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Monthly Archives: January 2009

We can have this national conversation about poetry and it won’t hurt a bit.

Baltimore Sun interview with Elizabeth Alexander, on her inaugural poem “Praise Song for the Day.”

some vile, careless, casual gook/ had spoiled the best thing in the book

On murder in the first degree      The Law, I knew, is rigid: Its attitude, if A kills B,      To A is always frigid. …Nevertheless, I deemed it best And in the public interest To buy a gun, to oil it well, Inserting what is called a shell,      And go and pot      With sudden shot      This […]

Where the Bee Sucks (William Shakespeare)

Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip’s bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat’s back I do fly. After summer merrily: Merrily, merrily, shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

She says it’s God’s own irony that I have memory pangs but no memories.

Before my trauma event I lived with Joyce and her cat Reggae in Joyce’s apartment on the first floor of a five-story building on East Twelfth Street in Manhattan. The apartment has one bedroom and a small deck in back where we sat and did the crossword puzzle on Sunday mornings although sometimes we stayed […]

Emily Dickinson’s “Beclouded”

The Sky is low — the Clouds are mean. A Travelling Flake of Snow Across a Barn or through a Rut Debates if it will go — A Narrow Wind complains all Day How some one treated him Nature, like Us is sometimes caught Without her Diadem.

There’s such splendid work for the blind.

Do they matter?—those dreams from the pit?… You can drink and forget and be glad, And people won’t say that you’re mad; For they’ll know you’ve fought for your country And no one will worry a bit. – From “Does it Matter?” by Siegfried Sassoon

Book Lists

The Telegraph has a list of 100 novels everyone should read: I’ve read 36 of them. The Guardian apparently has a list of science fiction and fantasy books to read, which is listed all over the place as it’s become a meme; I got it here and have read 54 of the 150 or so […]

Really, Britain?

Extreme underwater ironing. (via)

a face that says half-past seven the same way whether a murder or a wedding goes on

A tall one I know at the end of a hallway broods in shadows and is watching booze eat out the insides of the man of the house; it has seen five hopes go in five years: one woman, one child, and three dreams. – From Carl Sandburg’s “Clocks“

Poems aren’t true, are they?

The Colbert ReportMon – Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c Elizabeth Alexander