I fumbled my idioms
adjectives were shocked
you could hear the adverbs grinning
all around that writer’s block
Poetry & Fiction
Keil’s Tree of Life
Charlie Keil caught up with Aretha Franklin’s “Tree of Life” last week. When your editor mentioned there were other wonders on Franklin’s Rare and Unreleased CDs, Keil mused about another rare Ree: “I think I still have somewhere a 45 rpm single of Aretha’s ‘Precious Lord’ that I picked up at Chess Records office.” Keil responded to Aretha’s call with this shapely poem …
Public Events & Private Truths: Two Poems from “A Dog’s Life”
If we’re lucky, Adam Scheffler’s poetry–lucid, demotic, right-valued–is on the verge of becoming a national resource.
Robert Lowell x 3
1. I was crossing Harvard Square, coming from the Coop, on my way to Adams House, where my study was. I saw Lowell near the kiosk and he saw me about the same time. He waved me over. “The most extraordinary thing has happened,” he said. “Can you come with me?”
Razzle Dazzle: Alison Stone’s New Poems
Alison Stone has been a vital voice in First of the Month‘s mixes for nearly 20 years. The following poems from her new collection, Dazzle, testify to her undimmed instinct for happiness inside the dailiness of life. Not that she’s Ms. Beamish. Stone often gives First first shot at her more engagé poems. One of them recently got up Facebook’s nose.
John Berryman On News We Can’t Use
Who can keep up? It wasn’t so long ago that we were concerned because the print press couldn’t keep up with the 24/7 news channels, which had scandals and disasters on the air while they were still in progress. Now, the 24/7 news channels can’t keep up with themselves: by the time they’ve assembled a panel of Wise Ones to analyze the most recent infamy, another one has unfolded. Or two. Or three. There is no pause, no day without too many tales to tell, let alone to tell well.
Which is why John Berryman’s 1939 poem “World-Telegram” has new currency. It is about the weight of headlines, of leads, of information that can barely be understood, let alone borne.
The Country & the City: Poems by Adrian Blevins
The first two poems here come from Adrian Blevins’ new collection, “Appalachians Run Amok”. Ms. Blevins’ exemplary wit sparked our current batch of posts (below) on the Country and the City.
There Is No Gun
There is no gun in this poem.
The Red Impala
Nunez, Calderon, and Luis (that’s me), we found an old Chevy Impala, a real big one from the Fifties. It was in the sandbox in front of the kids’ playground next to the project in which we lived. Calderon is very smart. He got a job selling bets at OTB, and we really trusted his judgment. “Nunez, Luis,” he said, “the car has no plates on it. The radio and battery are gone. It is safe to assume that it is abandoned.”