The book in which I found Heather McHugh's poem states that she "believes, almost desperately, in language." As do I. McHugh was born in San Diego to Canadian parents, was educated at Harvard, and owes a bit to Emily...
Of all the poems in the world, this is the one I think about most often. In a few spare stanzas, everything. If you'd like, read about William Carlos Williams here.
The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams...
The daughter and I are headed to Albuquerque tomorrow for a
Mom-n-me trip. I’m excited because neither of us has been there, and
because we’ll get to spend the kind of uninterrupted time that seldom occurs in
the rush...
In honor of this week of space exploration, I give you Louis MacNeice's poem, Star-Gazer. MacNeice was Irish, a contemporary of Auden, and broodingly handsome, which you can see here. And of course, you can read...
I've been reading about the second World War this week, which is probably why this poem struck me. It is most certainly influenced by Charles Simic's childhood in war-torn Yugoslavia; his family emigrated to America...
Next week, the massive production that is Bouchercon will be in Long Beach, near my neck of the woods. I'm thrilled to be part of the programming this year. It'll be my first time in attendance at this mystery...
"As soon as we express something, we devalue it strangely. We believe ourselves to have dived down into the depths of the abyss, and when we once again reach the surface, the drops of water on our pale fingertips no longer resemble the ocean from which they came...Nevertheless, the treasure shimmers in the darkness unchanged." ---Franz Kafka
