Surfacing from the deepest pool I’ve ever fallen into, I emerge gasping for air, and searching for something to tell me where I am and how I got there. Strangers dressed in white who aren’t nice don’t tell me anything I need to know. They just circle the bed, brandishing that tube that brings a…
George Garrett, Days of Our Lives Lie in Fragments: New and Old Poems, 1957-1997: Garrett has long been admired for his fiction, but in the past forty years, he had amassed a large body of poetry as well. From bawdy satires to quiet lyrics, Garrett’s poems splendidly showed his affection for the world through unique sensibilities….
First I place you in the garden at the head of the white table; fruit in a clay bowl, flowers in their first opening around you. Now I build the wind, one from the north wreathed in cold and from the south, wet. I give you dominion over wind. Now I build the rooms where…
for Jeanie Bauserman This year, I vote for the ash and linden trees, the boxwood shrubs, the magnolia, the blacksmith, the curator, the music of motherhood, I vote for the pylons of fathers, the man in the turban, the sitar player, the Nigerian drummer, a country walk, a walking mall in the center of town,…
DeWitt Henry and James Alan McPherson, Fathering Daughters: Reflections by Men, essays: This remarkable, moving collection offers nineteen essays on a subject about which very little has been published: the relationship between father and daughter. Henry and McPherson have broken new ground, soliciting stirring, often heartbreaking essays from the likes of Rick Bass, Phillip Lopate,…
A spacious night, the ward quiet but for a male nurse humming Klezmer music to your roommate, an elderly Polish widow suffering in body only, her roofless mind deluged by grace as the first priest to orbit Earth administers extreme unction to New York City, its helium balloon of Christ punctured beyond repair and dying…
—James Michael Maguire, 1953–1980 Jimmy’s grave is flat and nothing in the cemetery grove of fat maples blowing electric green not a mile from the river wind blowing like the background sound of highspeed tires on the highway not far away nearby toy trucks and a two-month-old’s grave playing dead but it’s Jimmy I found…
Howard Norman, The Museum Guard, a novel: Norman’s third novel is an exquisite tale set in Halifax just before World War II. DeFoe Russett, orphaned at age eight, lives in a hotel and works as a museum guard with his uncle. DeFoe begins a tormenting affair with Imogen Linny, the caretaker of a small Jewish…
The early sun is so pale and shadowy, I could be looking up at a ghost in the shape of a window, a tall, rectangular spirit looking down at me in bed, about to demand that I avenge the murder of my father. But the morning light is only the first line in the play…
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