Poetry

The Greatest English Poet You Haven't Heard of
The wisdom of a poet in nature and in war
April 28, 2013

Edward Thomas began to write poetry when he was 36. Three years later he was dead, killed in battle in the First World War. Yet in that short span of time he produced the hundred-odd poems that make him one of the most beloved poets of the twentieth century.

America
April 23, 2013

America, I would like to get closer to you, butyou are the unconscious patient; one hundred internsbicker this morning above your bed. Yesterday,I read for no reason an essay written a decade agoon game theory & economics. Apparently, the problemwith accurate predictions is that sometimes peoplesimply don’t make the rational choice. Illness & sleepare weary metaphors. The poor, who are now homeless,displaced by the storm, rest their heads tonightin luxury beachfront hotel rooms. All I want,one woman says, is my old kitchen where I could cooka hot meal for my kids.

The Tragedy in the Bedroom
A masterpiece of Victorian adultery
April 21, 2013

In 1862, George Meredith published a sonnet sequence about adultery. It still has its power, if not its power to shock.

The Gist
April 03, 2013

We thought we wanted something cuddly,or at the very least, transparent.But everything has a bit of murk about itthese days, especially at this time of year.The box Carol is standing catty-corner tomay contain an antidote to your particular disease,o

Appraisal Theory
April 02, 2013

My son’s in his Watch This years. “Watch this!” He throwsopen the screen door, races through the kitchen, returns in a pant. “See that?” Although I’m watching,I don’t.

White Ashes
April 01, 2013

My dentist tells me about his dying white ash trees growing near the power lines.The blight that pulls apart            the roots, telling us we aren’t getting any younger.The tooth, he says, has its own widening rings;            each line not age b

Rude Mechanicals
March 21, 2013

                            Against a white wall someone’s hair was a treetop, the body,the trunk of a tree.

Ferry
March 19, 2013

Hell, it feels like nothingis carrying you across like you’re packed in bulrush  following the river forward or a motor with its little propeller   propped out of the water in back of the boat  staring up at easy beauty and thinking of those lines  t

Henry Hudson
March 18, 2013

We play a hundred feet beneath his feet: I kick the ball,she chases it. She’ll paw and nose it somebefore she brings it back, though at times she won’t.Then I fetch.

Eras of Yves Klein
March 14, 2013

The Era of Having Famous Painter ParentsThe Era of Bypassing the Problematics of ArtThe Era of Learning to Write with Left HandThe Era of the Irish JournalThe Era of Doing Rosicrucian Exercises Every Night After Supper and Mailing Them         to Cal

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