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More Poems by Eileen Myles
Questions I may not have the time for all of this but A) I enjoy the slap of my flipflops on the stair & though my name is not Roxanne I remember when I would’ve liked that like a girl playing witch in her yard with jars & spider webs & the world was misty. A) almost took it all. Even if I’m not Roxanne I know you liked my voice in the dark & I did too B) Rabbits like to be up and around at twilight & dusk ex- actly when I get
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Poems by Eileen Myles
Chris I told my therapist about the fire I guess in New York they told the landlord there were five of them but there was eleven practically all of them died there was a picture of one woman crying some were her kids it’s impossible to know where the fray of bright red cloth came from on the grass if the power’s off for a second it’s fun better is the second it all starts coming on, fans whirring radio everything we landed ourselves on a grassy slope with a view of the freeway the
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from INFERNO (a poet’s novel) — Eileen Myles
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Eileen Myles: Loving This World
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Eileen Myles: Clothed In Nature With An Open Ear
Eileen Myles: Clothed In Nature With An Open Ear by CAConrad “The tomato Missed. Being intended to hit god it hit his mother I speak for her.” –from Sorry, Tree (Wave Books, 2007) My friends and I waited in the theater to see Eileen Myles appear in the Harry Dodge film. “THERE SHE IS!” It was great! It was weird too seeing her walking but not in person, not at one of her famous poetry readings, meaning any of her poetry readings because she never gives less than a 100 percent. But there she was
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An Interview With Eileen Myles
An Interview With Eileen Myles by Stacy Szymaszek Stacy Szymaszek: We recently had a brief conversation in the Poetry Project’s office about Leslie Scalapino, where I learned you were friends. In honor of Leslie, I thought we could begin with her in our interview. As a response to the Gulf War, she sent her writing to newspapers she thought would publish her, but none of them would – this grew into her book Front Matter, Dead Souls. At around the same time (1991) you declared your candidacy for president, and wrote your brilliant “Dear Citizen”
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Christopher Merrill Poems
Fables, Travels, Fascination by Idra Novey I first met Christopher Merrill in India. We’d both come to Calcutta as part of a U.S. Delegation of Writers to take part in one of the largest book festivals in Asia but which was cancelled at the last minute after we’d all arrived. Our delegation took part in a number of readings and discussions around Calcutta anyway and I had the pleasure of hearing Merrill’s work aloud in English and then translated into Bengali. It was a fitting introduction to a writer of such a worldly perspective. Whether
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A Good Time for Prose: Christopher Merrill
A Good Time for Prose: An Interview with Christopher Merrill by Rebecca McKay I loved reading your new poems for the issue. Can you talk a little bit about your interest in the prose poem as a form? In the fall of 1989, which seems like a lifetime ago, I began to experiment with the prose poem, writing, sometimes automatically, the first draft of what by fits and starts became Necessities, a book-length improvisation due out next year. These pages, which combine surrealist imagery, elements of fable, and meditations on the language, opened a new
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Selected Poems – Nathalie Handal
excerpt from Seven Stars in Sevilla December ‘27 1. Rafael Alberti ¿Adónde el Paraíso, sombra, tú que has estado? Pregunta con sílencio? You rest your voice on the white roofs. I rest my eyes on the ports where I saw my grandmother once. She thought it was Tripoli. We are in Cádiz. You stand at the bottom of the night with the rain. I stand under the lightning not too far away. You dismantle summer to find your feet. I take the day apart to find a compass. You tell me we must accept the
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Dream of the Apples: Nathalie Handal’s Andalusian Interior
Dream of the Apples: Nathalie Handal’s Andalusian Interior by Catherine Fletcher From her first collection, Nathalie Handal’s poetic language has been a personal patois of English, French, Spanish, and Arabic. Her poetry has explored and fused images and sounds, moments real and imagined from her many lives in the United States, the Caribbean, Europe, and Palestine. As both critics and fellow poets including Tom Paulin and Lisa Suhair Majaj have noted, Handal’s work reflects a life in motion, of permanent transience in the Dominican Republic, France, the United Kingdom, or her own memory—“C’est comme cela,
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