The first one was in Michigan and I loved him like I was digging in a foreign land and he was the ruin I came to discover. Michigan is as cold as people imagine and when I remember him now he is leaned against one of those gaudy American cars, big…
George Garrett, The King of Babylon Shall Not Come Against You, a novel: A reporter goes to a Florida town to reinvestigate a series of shocking crimes that occurred twenty-five years ago during the week that Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated. (Harcourt Brace)
Right now the men put aside their composing sticks and settle by the hellbox chatting in groups that never seem to vary from day to day. Naturally I’m anxious to fit in naturally, to be considered one amongst metal men and composers. I hesitate on the edge of the…
A noose of moonlight— I think I see what my father saw That night when he went out To the leaning barn— He followed the light, Scared up some rope in the tack room To toss over the beam. The wind rending itself through barbed fences. I found him The next morning, Kneeling…
Marilyn Hacker, Edge, translations of poems by Claire Malroux: Sandra Gilbert comments: “Claire Malroux’s piercing and subtly nuanced poems have been sensitively mediated for English readers in Marilyn Hacker’s poised translations. Malroux has put such American and British writers as Emily Dickinson and Emily Brontë into French with style and grace; her own work has…
“La poésie vit d’insomnie perpétuelle.” —Rene Char There’s a sickness in me. During the night I wake up & it’s brought a stain into my mouth, as if an ocean has risen & left back a stink on the rocks of my teeth. I stink. My mouth is ugly, human stink. A color like rust…
The bass we catch is too big with years, its dark stripes notched and wavering like a cut trunk’s rings. We drag it over the gunnel, stand back, and no one will touch it, at first. The children cry and want it gone. And when we do let it go, it is not out of…
Charles Simic, Walking the Black Cat, poems: In his thirteenth collection, a National Book Award finalist, Simic melds folklore and black magic with everyday life. (Harvest)
Saturday, Eighth and Broadway, a dozen turtles the color of crushed mint try for the ruby rim of a white enamel bowl on the sidewalk, wet jade jewel cases climbing two or three times the length of their bodies toward heaven till the slick sides of the bowl send them sliding back into their brothers’…
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