Like so much of Peixoto’s work, this poem—originally in "Gaveta de Papéis" (Quetzal, 2008)—is surprisingly efficient. Readers quickly learn the place, and follow through each detail with a kind of peaceful comfort that is at odds with the scene being described. But then the turn at the end, a device so often used by Peixoto, gives new meaning to those earlier lines. It’s a poem I love re-reading.
Hugo dos Santos on "Alone, I Arrive in a Looted City" |
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"On the Essays of Kay Ryan, Outsider""Ryan is always clear, never coyly oblique. Indeed, there’s a relief in reading her ruthlessly specific judgments. By that, I don’t necessarily mean 'fierce opinions of other people’s work,' though she has those. For instance, she can approach an Emily Dickinson poem with the confidence of a picky reader, not a supplicant, and is perfectly comfortable pointing out that some stanzas aren’t that special." via LIT HUB |
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What Sparks Poetry:
Rion Scott on Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays""I often think about the precision in Hayden's language. The words that take on the work of casting several meanings. 'What did I know, what did I know/of love’s austere and lonely offices?' I know all the words he used, but in this formation, with the repetition, the odd use of the word 'offices' and its proximity to the words 'austere' and 'lonely,' the words seem alien and strange in the best way." |
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We oppose racism, oppression, and police brutality.
We will continue to amplify diverse voices in the poetry world. Black Lives Matter. |
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