"Sometimes grief itself (what Jayant Kamicheril describes as 'that kaleidoscope of broken feelings') must be our source of solace. . . ." I wrote these words in the introduction to Solace in So Many Words mainly in reference to grief experienced after loss of a child or loved one. But recently I have been struggling to find the solace in the news relating to Steubenville, Ohio rape case. There is only grief. Usually in this blog I cite what I have been reading, and that's … [Read more...]
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day: Poetry Ireland, Tyrone Guthrie Centre, and Yeats
Today's focus is on the Irish, so I have listed some of my favorite literary Irish things. If you're looking for contemporary Irish poetry, there is no better journal than Poetry Ireland Review (published quarterly). A subscription also includes a bi-monthly news letter, Poetry Ireland News. Though the overseas subscription rate is rather steep, the journal never disappoints and includes reviews and essays on craft as well as contemporary Irish and international … [Read more...]
Submit, submit, submit
Today’s post is all about submissions. I’ve received three emails recently that may be of interest. The first news is from C. J. Laity of Chicago Poetry Press, which is pleased to announce its intention to publish Journal of Modern Poetry, Volume 15 (JOMP 15), to be released in the spring of 2013. Those selected for inclusion in the upcoming Journal of Modern Poetry 15 publication will have a chance at a featured spot to read the selected poem on the main stage of the … [Read more...]
Winter weekend: reading Philip Levine and Donna Hilbert
It's a quiet weekend here and a perfect time to post. Did you read The New Yorker (Feb 11 & 18 issue)? Philip Levine has a poem "In Another Country" and when I say it's dreamy, I mean it literally. In this other country, ". . . There is no town, only / fields of long grass blowing in the wind / and beyond the wind the gray mountains." It ends, ". . . . The wind kept prodding / at my back as though determined / to push me away from where I was, / fearful, perhaps, I … [Read more...]
My valentine to reading
Between the sheets I confess, to sleeping with books, covers spread open and waiting— they beckon, a fluttering of leaves like lapping tongues. Oh, their smooth embossed spines. The tawdry ones are good for a night. Rumpled, smelling of smoke, usually borrowed and broken. They’re anybody’s book, sorry, sticky maybe, used and returned. The worldly wise leave an exotic taste, others have the common … [Read more...]
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