Poem-a-Day Friday: Natasha Trethewey

  I’ve never read Nathasha Trethaway‘s work. But, because she is the recently named US poet laureate. And because she is among the youngest poet laureates ever named. And because she is Southern and the first African American named since Rita Dove in 1993. And because I listened to her interview with Terry Gross and thought [Read More…]

Poem-a-Day Friday: Franz Wright

    Today is a special day for my little family. Our T-Rexy (aka Brooksie) is being baptized in a quiet backyard ceremony at my mother in law’s house this evening. On Monday I will be posting the words I’m planning to read at Brooksie’s baptism tonight. (That post may also answer any questions you [Read More…]

Poem-a-Day Friday: Louise Gluck (Also, Micha’s yellow folder)

  When I arrived at my creative writing program in 2002 (which my friend Courtney Queeney and I affectionately referred to as “Poetry Camp”), I was the least educated of the bunch. I don’t say that with false humility. It’s a matter of fact. No one with my GRE scores should have been admitted to [Read More…]

Poem-a-Day Friday: Farah Marklevits

Farah Marklevits is a friend of mine from Syracuse. I spent three years of graduate school in a workshop with the same five poets, who taught me as much about writing as our professors. (Ours was a special group. We actually loved each other, which never happens in MFA programs like ours.) I shared many cups [Read More…]

Poem-a-Day Friday: Jane Kenyon (again)

Last night, after the kids snuggled into beds and the cat (who is getting better!) ventured out of his sick room to sleep on the couch, I ate a frozen pizza from Target by myself and scrubbed the toilet and the floors. There’s something special about cleaning in preparation of something. My parents are coming [Read More…]

Poem-a-Day Friday: Emily Dickinson

May 15 was the anniversary of Emily Dickinson‘s death, 126 years ago. I have this deep friendship with Emily in my head. She laments like no one else. If I could take any class right now, it would be a Dickinson class. My deepest regret from grad school was dropping the Emily Dickinson/Walt Whitman course [Read More…]