Rae Armantrout’s poem “Smidgins” fulfills an imperative of lyric, which is “Don’t be gassy.” Also another imperative, which is “Talk in riddles.” My crumpled, wrinkled / blurt / of flesh. // “Let’s face it,” / it says. * … Ravaged … Continue reading
I’m intrigued by the tension in Jake Skeet’s [sic] poem: Its title juxtaposes love with death, and its rhythms press against the nettle-like images. The first stanza’s images are scarred and rough with “burr and sage,” “bottles” and the “cirrhosis … Continue reading
I’ve acquiesced to much of what I can’t quite fathom in Louise Glück’s poetry. Enough reaches me to defeat surliness. I feel surprisingly addressed at times: … You are like me whether or not you admit it. / Unsatisfied. Meticulous. … Continue reading
It seems when I encounter a poem I start an argument with it; I approach it as a provocation. Why is it written this way? What is it trying to tell me? What should I feel or think after reading … Continue reading
“I get pretty impatient with people who consider any fourteen-line poem to be a sonnet. The turns of thought are crucial, as is the number of turns.” (Carl Phillips, interviewed by David Baker, http://www.kenyonreview.org) The interview inspiring these illustrations is … Continue reading
The world / was whole because / it shattered. When it shattered, / then we knew what it was. “Formaggio” is Italian for “cheese.” The poem so titled is in Louise Glück’s book Vita Nova. On first reading I experienced … Continue reading
Not the selves we ordered, but the ones received. So it went with those that got us — the trick of not caring for who you be is handed down. Each tiny burden of wiped snot is a pair of … Continue reading
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Once upon a time (Érase una vez…, they say in Spanish), I couldn’t conceive of settling for less than being a published poet. I was too callow and unstable, however, to give the project sustained hard work. I’m content now … Continue reading
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I’ve little practice handwriting Arabic. Even less am I schooled in the monastic rigors of calligraphy. I do confess to an effort to “draw” Arabic. My models are the characters as they appear in printed texts. I savor their swoops … Continue reading
EthicalDative 
‘Smidgins’: Afterthought
A “smidgin” is an imprecise, tiny amount of something, a modest dollop. As a poem title, the jocular word is self-effacing but also coyly assertive, like a humble-brag. I got dirt under my nails the other day with Rae Armantrout’s … Continue reading →