So often, I feel like one of poetry’s real powers is in its intimacy and smallness. The way language can hover over the fullness of a life and underscore the quiet moments that make our humanity meaningful. In those moments the poem is often, for me, a fissure in the wall between interiority and exteriority able to illuminate both at once. This poem is a small reflection of that.
Matthew Shenoda on "Traces" |
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"LaTasha N. Nevada Diggs Interviewed"
"There is no sense of being linear because origin stories take on a kind of hopscotch grid. There’s ancestry and place, of being displaced and always displaced culturally, geographically, emotionally. If I say this, then that is a lie. If I say that, then I am denying something. I could be basic. I ain’t never been basic. There's joy and unsettling with that."
via BOMB MAGAZINE |
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What Sparks Poetry:
Marianne Boruch on "So we get there just as"
"Words came later, by accident in a silent room at a desk. But back there, one afternoon in that desolate expanse my husband and I and a stranger, the three of us came together over that creature stricken by a fellow human we desperately wanted to disown, a driver hot to desecrate the planet. I can’t tell you the rage in me as that car grew smaller and smaller then slipped into nothing’s pure distance." |
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