The poem begins with a literal bang, reminiscent of an airstrike—“A sudden blow: . . . ” That first phrase of William Butler Yeats’s “Leda and the Swan” is followed by a quatrain-long sentence describing how Zeus, in the form of a swan,…
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. How can those terrified vague fingers push…
The town had a smokestack. It had a church spire. The church was prettier, but the smokestack was higher. It was a lone ruined column, a single snuffed taper, a field gun fired at heaven,
In the fall of 1972, I was a new graduate student, at a university ten times the size of my undergraduate school, in an unfamiliar city far from my old home in the suburbs of Washington, D. C. I was…
Reading Pablo Neruda’s Stones of the Sky, a poet remembers the pull of a moon rock, news of resistance found in the Mohawk Nation’s Akwesasne Notes, and the genesis of her craft.
I. de Las Piedras del Cielo De endurecer la tierra se encargaron las piedras: pronto tuvieron alas: las piedras que volaron: las que sobrevivieron subieron el relámpago,
I think about the mornings it saved me to look at the hearts penknifed on the windows of the bus, or at the initials scratched into the plastic partition, in front of which a cabbie went on about bread his…
I grew up ten miles north of Cincinnati, Ohio, in a quiet suburb that once had been a small village in its own right until it was engulfed by the city’s suburban expansion. It remains, today, a collection of tree-lined…
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