“Poetry is not the record of an event—it is an event.” —Robert Lowell Even in times of stillness and physical distance, reading a great poem has the ability to move us, transport us—in other words, poetry will always retain its power to feel, as Lowell...
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As diverse as our stories may be poets are nevertheless in the process of creating a single art, some trace of what we were able to accomplish with our language before we inevitably canceled each other out. Eventually, through lurking, inescapable age, or cataclysm,...
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I’m a little in love with the idea that a poem is an occasion for two people to share a trouble, whatever the outcome of that trouble might be. So, I would say that the listener I would want is a person with whom...
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Some years ago, a friend wrote to me admiring what he called at the time my “bivalve poems.” I thought he meant how a lot of the poems in my new book consisted of two stanzas of equal length, and that was partly true....
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Find an example of wood with your eyes. The floorboards, a door, trim around the window, cutting board, kitchen table, the sycamore there. Imagine it against your knuckles as you rap on it. Feel how hard. Hear the knock. Now, add time. Not that...
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As an academic philosopher and the author of many books of poetry, I’m often asked about the relationship between poetry and philosophy. What I’ve usually said in the past is something along these lines: Philosophy and poetry can both be ways of responding to...
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For as long as I can remember, I have composed poems from the bits of language revolving in my head when no more pressing thoughts intrude. While out for a walk or running an errand, a phrase or stanza might start up and repeat...
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In those days I began to see light under every bushel basket, light nearly splitting the sides of the bushel basket. Light came through the rafters of the dairy where the grackles congregated like well-taxed citizens untransfigured even by hope. Understand I was the one underneath the basket. I was...
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“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.” —Marianne Moore The best time of year is here again—happy National Poetry Month! Celebrate all month with exclusive Work in Progress features, from essays to conversations to poetry excerpts, honoring the inspiring poets who...
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I am thirteen. My mom and I are walking down a hallway in the wing of a San Francisco art museum and pass an auditorium. I can hear a voice on the other side of the door, loud, accented, lilting and rolling and sure...
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We had filled our backpacks with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We also threw in thermoses of chocolate milk we’d mixed ourselves. We thought the milk would stay cold. At the bottom of our backpacks shook boxes of pellets for our pump-styled air...
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The first poem I remember—really, it is the first poem I remember remembering—began: In a dark park a tree barked And a crocus croaked I watched my watch… At least, I think that was it, but I lost the book years ago, and I don’t know who wrote...
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“Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio” In the Shreve High football stadium, I think of the Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville, And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood, And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel, Dreaming of heroes. All the proud fathers are ashamed...
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“we dead stand undefended everywhere” —James Wright How did the Silver Jews have it? Punk rock died when the first kid said / “punk’s not dead.” This may be true of poetry, too. I die a little, in any case, whenever one of those mid-career In...
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When I was first asked to write on this subject, I imagined discussing what I’ve learned from such poets as Cavafy, Olds, and Bidart, when it comes in particular to the body and desire and where that desire can lead and how to speak...
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In classical Chinese paintings, we routinely encounter a phenomenon that is strange and even shocking in terms of Western manners. Alongside the artist's original painting, we find many later additions done by other hands: they are red stamps of different sizes, added by collectors—from...
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I was an undergrad, it was my junior year, and a poetry workshop (the teacher was famous and beloved, a darling, and I wanted to be a darling like that (like that? I should say, like her, because she was a person, not an...
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Fairy tales are full of impossible tasks When Tonya Harding is twenty years old she’ll become the first female figure skater to land a triple axel in competition, a jump that requires impossible strength to launch the body into the air from a forward position...
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August Kleinzahler, our favorite "witty, gritty poet" (Publishers Weekly), penned two original pieces for FSG's National Poetry Month. The poem "Snow Approaching on the Hudson" offers a striking and atmospheric view of New York City. In "Notes on Snow Approaching," Kleinzahler steps back...
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Our favorite time is here again—happy National Poetry Month! We'll be celebrating with thirty days of exclusive features, from essays to videos to poetry excerpts, honoring the great poets who have shaped and challenged our view of the world. In the words of T....