Grief & Poetry in Progress
Seventeen weeks since my mother died. If my grief were a baby, it wouldn’t be eating solid food yet. If my grief were a grapevine, the fruit would only now be ripening. But my grief will not grow, or rot on the vine. If anything has changed, it’s my understanding of how to approach it:…
I don’t mean the sort of revising that is part of the usual process of writing a poem. I’m thinking more about the revising of poems that have already appeared in print. If you’ve ever seen Galway Kinnell read, you might have noticed the margins of the book he’s reading from filled with pencil scrawls.…
I Heart Erin Belieu.
Back years ago when I did try and send out a few things, the first time I got rejected I nearly beat the mailbox to death. Seriously, I kicked it till the post broke. And I’m pretty sure that’s a felony. Okay, as the owner of all 3 of her books, I was predisposed to…