Showing posts from January, 2013


I read somewhere that in a single lifetime, we only have the capacity to truly believe in three things. 

Choose wisely.

A Word on Verbs
It’s often those who talk a streak
on world affairs and love and peace
who seem to love and peace the least.  

(first appeared in Poetry)

Isn’t satire how writers make enemies, says the wild grass and the silver pine....

Nope, that’s fiction, the wind replies.  

The Dark Gnu has been Released:

An odd little book
for the drifters and dreamers,
the tygers and sages,
and the children of all
inconceivable ages.

Order Information

Like all young people I set out to be a genius, but mercifully laughter intervened.

Lawrence Durrell 

Wiman Moves on to Yale

In all corners private and public, where women and men of letters collect to argue politics, poetry, and philosophy, the poets are discussing who best should replace Chris Wiman, who will relinquish  his position as editor of Poetry this year.

I myself would like to extend him a public note of thanks, and not just for his astonishing support of my peculiar verses over the years, but for resuscitating the art of criticism in the journal, for his willingness to offend the establishment, for tripling circulation, for publishing side-by-side the secular and the devotional, the free and the formal, the humorous and the serious, for his courage in the face of intense scrutiny, and for staying true to Harriet Monroe's original mission for the journal.

Over the last nine years, he has published a couple dozen of my poems, from nonce sonnets to epigrams to strange, esoteric pieces. Appearing in those hallowed pages is always a blessing; it is also a bit like having a target painted on o…
Just as a tree is known by its shadow ...

The people speak in narrative while the world is born to storytelling.   

Mawm and Daughter