My father checked himself into the VA Medical Center in Philadelphia a few weeks ago and it’s not clear when or if he’ll be able to leave again. He’s been managing congestive heart failure for a while. Now he needs surgery for a leaky…
This week, one of the two most productive writers I know wondered aloud, “Is this it? Is the brain case empty now?” as she rapped her skull smartly. Last week, I asked the other one, who is going through a bad time, whether she…
“I love coming to a marae because everything is orderly.” That was Albert Wendt yesterday at Te Herenga Waka, the marae at Victoria University and the site of a conference I’ve been attending, “Reading and Writing in the Pacific.” A first for me: attending…
“At some profound level,” writes Damien Wilkins in “American Microphone,” a very funny story about a dismal public reading, “I think of Americans as dangerously carbonated people.” This confirms my U.S.-Soft Drink Association Hypothesis as to why New Zealanders keep calling me “refreshing.” Wilkins…
I keep muttering “Somebody loves us all.” It’s the last line of “Filling Station,” one of my favorite Elizabeth Bishop poems, and also the title of Damien Wilkins’ latest novel, a terrific book Chris and I have been reading. I recently pored through Bishop’s…
The work wants to be made
Writing from both sides of the brain
"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty
a poetry page with reviews, interviews and other things
Mundane musings from a collector of the quotidian
I imbibe words and consume past minds. As a result, I often awake next to strange sentences and forgotten meanings.
The Parlando Project - Where Music and Words Meet
Poet, Writer, Instructor
Low-Residency Graduate Programs – MFA, MA, Certificate
Thoughts on writing and reading
poetry. observations. words. stuff.
breathing through our bones
(The poetry blog of Grant Clauser)
Into one's life a little poetry must fall
Scribblings in awe of poetry, transitions, mutations and death
Rising towards the light...
Writer and Artist
Little flecks of inspiration and creativity