Fanny Howe

Blue river, icy sunk where something but nobody fell Now theology is necessary for the way there are these holes & questions Père Noël, whose presents like questions come from the mind: Let me be helpless & hopeless this coming year let me know God and not feel fear Winter tones are rose & glass […]

Adrift

The road to the Salts’ house, Fairfax County Everyone along the eastern seaboard has their own Saturday storm story, and I’m no different. I went to Washington DC to see my it’s-been-too-long nieces and nephews on Friday. I ended up having to wait until Sunday afternoon to finally make it to the Salt house. Our […]

The Thing Is

The road to High Head Castle, first built in the Middle Ages and then destroyed by fire in 1947. The thing is to love life to love it even when you have no stomach for it, when everything you’ve held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands and your throat is filled with the […]

When the Land is Calling

Doomsday The dark that’s gathering strength these days is submissive, kinky, silken, willing; stretched taut as a trampoline. World events rattle by like circus trains we wave at occasionally, as striped, homed and spotted heads poke out their windows. Feels like I’m wearing a corset, though I haven’t a stitch on. Burn the place setting […]

Wealth in Other Forms

Best description of reading poetry I’ve found was in a review of Amy Gerstler’s latest volume, Dearest Creature, from the Sunday Times Book Review. Written by a fellow poet David Kirby, it is clear he knows of what he speaks: “Look, a poem either sends you a bill or writes you a check. You can […]

Shadow Dancing

I’m still combing the beach of Bly’s small book, A Little Book on the Human Shadow. In some ways this is a sequel to my earlier posting, The Thatness. Bly is so open about his woundedness, in person and in his poetry. I don’t think I know of another poet who is so unabashedly brought […]

Working Along the Nerve

A scanning electron microscope image of a nerve ending. It has been broken open to reveal vesicles (orange and blue) containing chemicals used to pass messages in the nervous system. (Photo: Tina Carvalho) Sally Reed, friend and artist, left the following quote from Anne Truitt’s Daybook as a comment to the posting below. It is […]