October 15, 2018

A poem from the Fall 2018 issue.

It is such a tragedy, all this 
Working. The vacation 
I need is on your mark, 
Get set, go. It’s been years 
Since I’ve seen the light
October 08, 2018

Anne Spencer’s ecosystem of art and activism

As I read, I fell in love with Anne Spencer’s fierceness and wit. In some ways, she reminded me of my own grandmother—a voluble woman, gardener, and scrawler of notes on the back of lists. Finding Spencer’s scraps, I felt the same sort of matriarchal literary presence amid the dailiness of domestic life: glimpses of how an ambitious, literary-minded woman might manage a house.

March 05, 2013

A conversation with Miller Williams. 

I do believe that poetry is more satisfying when it has a pattern similar to those of songs. I wish that I could sing well, as I’m sure you know my daughter Lucinda does, and writes her own songs. Hank Williams (no kinship there) told me that since he often wrote his lyrics months before he set them to music, they spent those months as sort-of poems. I think the kinship is real.

June 12, 2018

Poems from the Summer 2018 issue.

How convenient when the brain
starts to glow.  You can help
an injured peacock out of the road
without being pecked to death.

March 13, 2018

An introduction to a previously unpublished James Dickey essay, from the 100th issue. 

In “The Kingdom of the Other,” an essay adapted from a manuscript titled “Under the Social Surface,” written in the 1950s, Dickey says that our written words, meaning our take on everything from abstractions to the glint of a new pocketknife’s blade, are formed from our memories, those shape-shifting resources that turn into people and forests, train stations and the ruminations of characters. (I was very young—twenty-one—when I took Dickey’s class, and I needed to hear that something inside me could be fascinating to a reader.)

March 13, 2018

Poems from the Spring 2018 issue.

One white anemone,
the year’s first flower,
saves the world.

March 13, 2018

A poem from the Spring 2018 issue.

I know we are happy

To hold them in our arms

     Watching 

Them squizzle

December 04, 2017

Although the journey of this book is more fraught than a cloud forest, it is more magical, too. The games we play become the way the poems tell their stories, the way they love and grieve. These games help reader and poet get to know each other, while also introducing other urgent relationships between country and self, mother and son, the living and the dead.

November 21, 2017

Three poems from our Kentucky Music Issue. 

Until the nameless traveler learns in terror 
His lidless eyes are open targets— 
Where sudden night flings in her quiet spear. 

 

September 05, 2017

A poem from the Fall 2017 issue.

I have tried to carry a persimmon home,
to share one fruit. I passed the tree running, 

a pursuit which allows no pockets, no bags.
Needs no equipment. No team.