In advent and the beginning of a new year, I tend to think a lot about birth and the many rebirths we experience as we accept the sacred in our lives. At first glance I almost thought this was a prose poem. However, the subtle line breaks create an interesting form and cadence that compliment Johnson’s long, luscious lines. “Soul wants the body badly, is the cage for her, song/ and feather.” References to birds and song, voice and flight... Read more
After a harrowing weekend of yelling at my children, I decided I needed to take drastic measures. I’d been getting sleep, eating well, exercising, and, yes, praying, but I still found myself on the razor’s edge of tension, slamming utensil drawers and screaming, “Stop!” if my son so much as edged one tine of his fork into his sister’s personal breakfast space. I proclaimed to my husband and my other spouse, Facebook, that if I could get through the rest... Read more
Over Thanksgiving, my sister and I spoke of transitions. We’re both susceptible to periods of high and illogical anxiety. She said how, as a teen, she was able to make the anxiety wax and wane through transitions: going home from school for the summer or for vacations, returning to college, starting her summer job. (more…) Read more
Often when Aomame finishes showering and prepares to dress, she stands naked before a mirror and considers her body. It is an athletic body, toned, if thin. She always wishes her breasts were larger, but thinks, quite practically, “You’ve gotta work with what you’ve got.” (more…) Read more
First, a note: I think this might be the last time I do this. If you’ve followed my writing about music for the last twenty years (in which case you are my mother, so thanks) you’ve heard me say things like this off and on for at least the last ten, so I don’t mean to be overdramatic. (more…) Read more
In the first days of my MFA program, one of the mentors—a fiction writer I hadn’t studied with yet—said she’d taken to sending letters to other writers when she found herself feeling jealous of their success. This struck me as worthwhile, both in terms of maintaining literary friendships and, you know, being a decent human being. I decided I would take this on if I ever felt jealous of another writer. (more…) Read more
Quick: before 2017 ends, I want to mark an anniversary that has somehow been missed in the surfeit of commemorations that have rained like confetti all year long on the Internet. (more…) Read more
Unimaginable. That’s precisely why I will imagine it. Shake them, shake the books, shake the siddur, prayerbook, shake the Tanakh, the Bible, shake them vigorously until the word is shaken loose, Yerushalayim, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Yerushalayim. (more…) Read more
Last year my husband and I celebrated our first Christmas with our infant daughter. She couldn’t understand the holiday, of course, but that didn’t stop us from discussing Advent calendars, wreaths, and Jesse Trees in depth, continuing a friendly argument about Santa Claus that has been going on since our engagement. (more…) Read more
I love the broad strokes and sweeping vision of this poem at the same time as I appreciate its specificity, its impressive attention to detail. The forces of good and evil that make up the archetypal beams of this poem create a kind of structural backdrop against which the poem whirs and sparks— from the girl’s golden braids to the hum of mosquitos; from the waste of addiction and suicide to the impossible brilliance of a young child’s summer. How... Read more
Good Letters
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