Her poetry is deceptively simple: lines might seem, at first, tossed-off when in fact they're precisely chiseled. All too often, taste-makers focus on obvious disruptors without acknowledging quiet revolutions taking place.
"It's a good thing I'm a poet and not a novelist. No publisher of novels in his or her right mind would allow books to have such weird, un-hooky titles. If I'd been a novelist, they'd have been called 1. Sex, 2. Hideous Graphic Death and 3. Football."
In a brief introduction to the book, Krieger remarks that those who write poetry after threats of universal death must not only "confront the ugliness of human brutality," but "express the heart's longing for peace and reveal its grief at our loss of decency."
Fear means you know you may be incorrect. You may find that when you read your poem as you -- when you abandon those auto-subscribed notions of sound and musicality -- you will reach and offer a much deeper attachment to your work.
I write this blog to encourage discussion among poets regarding poetry awards. To do this, I will begin with showing some figures on the awards, along with some observations. Finally, I'll end by posing 10 questions.
The term "alt-lit" has gradually devolved into meaninglessness, much like the term "indie music." In practice, the "alt-lit" designation merely signifies that something is really good, yet underappreciated; or delightfully quirky, but with few financial resources behind it
It may seem strange to say of a poet that his work is both tight and frenetic, but with Ron Padgett the description is apt. By the same token, comparing any poet to John Ashbery usually serves as little more than back-handed euphemism: a "less-than" sign hangs ghostly over any such analogy.
Last week, some of America's top poets answered five questions from a pool of questions offered by readers of poetry for National Poetry Month. In this second part of the series, our poets tackle five more of their questions.
Whimsical declarations and asyntactic juxtapositions are common features in contemporary poetry, but often they amount to little more than idiosyncratically coded confessions of limited interest to a general readership.
The poet John Hennessy shares a name with a millionaire college president, who was not long ago profiled in the New Yorker, and a cognac everyone knows, but not everyone drinks. His name positions his work in a cruel sort of fame and obscurity.