
An essay about Nina Katchadourian’s extraordinary exhibition To Feel Something That Was Not Of Our World.
An essay about Nina Katchadourian’s extraordinary exhibition To Feel Something That Was Not Of Our World.
This amazing image by Margeaux Walter accompanies “The Partitive Case” in the prose poem issue of DMQ Review.
One poem about a (twice-)postponed wedding, and one about–well, longing, and loss, and the strange fascination of a telescoping antenna like the one on a boombox or kitchen radio: “Prothalamion in a Pandemic” and “Antenna.”
A role, not a permanent appointment. New short essay, “On Mentors,” in Amsterdam Quarterly 31.
After many years of living in California, I finally wrote a poem about the beach, and am very happy to have it appear (with audio) in issue 87 of The Cortland Review. (I remember when, years and years ago, TCR was one of the first online literary magazines that felt just as “real” as a print journal, or to me, anyway–I realize that “real” is a very subjective quality in this context. Anyway, it is now venerable in the online realm, and this is my first appearance in it.)
Another “thousand-year-old word poem,” in the Inflectionist Review: “The Word ‘I'”. The image is a detail the cover image by featured artist Poppy Dully.
A poem about something that we don’t talk about publicly very much. “Notes on Perimenopause” (December 8, 2020)
A Sense of Location and an Act of Leave-Taking
I also have two poems in the Summer/Fall issue of Poetry Northwest, “In the Botanical Garden” and “Love” (which is another thousand-year-old word poem).
The Oscar Wilde House at 1 Merrion Square in 1967 (photographer: Elinor Wiltshire; credit: National Library of Ireland)
I drafted this poem a few days after meeting up with Eavan Boland for a happy lunch and walk in Dublin between Christmas and New Year’s 2018, and revised it over the next year or so. It felt elegiac then. And now it is an elegy of sorts. I’m grateful to the Los Angeles Review for publishing it about six weeks after she died–but I would so much rather it were still in a folder and she were still here. I will never stop missing her.
A poem about staying “safer at home” during the pandemic: “Shelter” inĀ ROOM: A Sketchbook for Analytic Action.