MASTHEAD Guest Editor Marilyn Hacker Editor Don Lee Poetry Editor David Daniel Assistant Editor Jodee Stanley Founding Editor DeWitt Henry Founding Publisher Peter O'Malley Editorial Assistants: Heidi Pitlor, Maryanne O'Hara, and Nathaniel Bellows. Intern: Monique Hamzé. Fiction Readers: Billie Lydia Porter, Anne Kriel, Barbara Lewis, John Rubins, Karen Wise, Loretta Chen, Todd Cooper, Michael Rainho,…
A tree spooked By its own evening whispers. Afraid to rustle, Just now Bewitched by the distant sunset Making a noise full of deep Misgivings, Like bloody razor blades Being shuffled, And then again the quiet. The birds too terror-stricken To make their own comment. Every leaf to every other leaf An apparition, A separate…
Born in Summerside, Prince Edward Island, Canada, in 1934, Mark Strand spent much of his childhood in Halifax, Montreal, New York, Philadelphia, and Cleveland. As a teenager he lived in Columbia, Peru, and Mexico. Upon graduating from Antioch College, he went to Yale to study painting with Joseph Albers. Turning from painting to poetry “wasn’t…
In barracks, Grandma, did dust chafe your lips? The men played poker, the women played bridge. And guards, rifles, the chain of black sleek boots? The girls cut out dolls, ripped paper in skirts. Or towers, gleaming, plugged with silver barrels? The copperheads slid through tundra and thistles. My mother, born in camp, draining your…
Glenn Thrip failed to notice the bullet hole in the rear window of his pickup until several days later, after they had removed his wisdom teeth. Snowed on codeine, he was clearing the Nissan’s floor of pennies, trying to extract the keys from beneath the mat, when he looked up and saw the fresh Amnesty…
Andre Dubus: Dancing After Hours, a new collection of thirteen stories, two of which were originally published in Ploughshares, from a short-fiction master-America’s resident Chekhov. (Knopf, Feb. 1996)
War Relocation Center” in a Dream A lotus is a lotus. A train is a train. No, this train is a lotus, this lotus is a train. The petals are white swords. The engine a head of steam. No, petals are spumes of ash blooming from this train. The bud opens to…
“. . . the Muse guides mariners in the shape of bees.” —Philostrates Her wild cunning hypothesis: the Sirens in the Odyssey were bees. And I imagine two virgins, joined at the thorax— grounded, centered, perfumed— who could hum the Greeks’ ancient choruses, who knew all the lullabies, the waltzes, the songs a wife would…
Bill Knott: The Quicken Tree, new work from a truly original and brilliant poet, whose language, ideas, and images always bedazzle. (BOA Editions)
No products in the cart.