Travel, a trip somewhere new, or a return to a land you love, always restores body and soul. Poetry, like travel, can do that too. In fact, I was recently inspired reading Defying Extinction, a new book of poems by … Continue reading

Travel, a trip somewhere new, or a return to a land you love, always restores body and soul. Poetry, like travel, can do that too. In fact, I was recently inspired reading Defying Extinction, a new book of poems by … Continue reading
Alicia Ostriker’s The Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog begins with a quote by Gertrude Stein: A very important thing is not to make up your mind that you are any one thing. The Old Woman, the Tulip, and … Continue reading
I attended the reading for the anthology, Pathetic Literature, that had been organized by its editor, Eileen Myles at Karma Books on East Third Street near Avenue A. The place was packed. Besides Eileen, Jerome Sala, Sparrow, and Morgan Bassichis … Continue reading
Last month, I saw Jeff Wright read at the Tompkins Square Library and really enjoyed the poems. He read from several of his books, and also a poem he had recently written. I asked him if I could come over … Continue reading
Last Saturday, when I attended a poetry reading at the Jefferson Market Library, I recorded the whole thing. My friend, the teacher and poet, Scott Hightower, had curated it and did the introductions as well. The poets, Skye Jackson, … Continue reading
I asked Anthony Cappo if I could record him reading from his new book, When You’re Deep In A Thing. Anthony is a born storyteller whose stories crystalize into poems that are personal and universal because they draw you … Continue reading
When I arrived in NYC in the fall of 1979, one of the first things I did was to go to Saint Mark’s Church and join a poetry workshop at the Poetry Project. After all, poetry was why I’d come. … Continue reading
… The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the stones Are nine-and-fifty swans. The nineteenth autumn has come upon me … Continue reading
On Thursday, I took the subway to the Upper West Side to record the poet and publisher, William Leo Coakley—you can call him Willie—at his apartment on 71st Street where he has lived (and loved) since 1961. As I set … Continue reading
“One of the marvels of the world is the sight of a soul in prison holding the keys in its hand.” Rumi The poet Scott Hightower learned that Life goes on after his partner of forty-one years suddenly died … Continue reading
I began reading Jaime Manrique’s Tarzan My Body Christopher Columbus over the summer, but because of some eye trouble, my watery itching eyes made it difficult to read. I persevered, however, because the poems valen la pena. As the … Continue reading