There’s a song that my husband likes to sing to our son at bedtime. It’s not a traditional bedtime song, by any means, but sung slowly and softly, it’s sweeter than any lullaby I know.
Let the Mystery Be: Steve Orlen (1942-2010) Read More »
I’m a sucker for shiny objects—scarves, bracelets, candy wrappers—and drawn to nearly anything bearing deep, saturated colors.
Don’t Eat the Mango: South Asian American Poetry Read More »
I love being read to. I also love reading aloud. I relish the permutation of reading that is shared. And, in my experience, the opportunity for shared reading tends to crop up in delightful and unexpected ways when I’m on the road.
On the Read Again Read More »
Next week, I’m embarking on one of two little first-book tours, and I’ll be blogging about those tours here.
Some years back, in the fall-out from the dot.com bubble-burst and the death of my grandmother, I sold my suits in a yard sale and took off for Mexico, where I spent six months immersing myself in a broader spectrum of reality than is customary in the U.S. and immersing myself in places where this reality is a given.
Narrative Possibility & the Broadly Real Read More »
I teach developmental composition in the Westbank of New Orleans, over the bridge from my home. If you were to keep on driving out there, away from New Orleans, you would be in the area on the map that looks like it’s breaking apart into the sea.
Brand New Car? BP Bought You That. Got You a Rolex? BP Bought You That. Read More »
A few years ago, the poet D.A. (Doug) Powell and I, in a fit of industry, embarked upon a project called The One Sentence Review.
The One Sentence Review Read More »
Perhaps to be human is to forget. Perhaps every culture survives by forgetting. In America we have forgotten so many things that we are sometimes called a people without a memory.
The Turkish Kitchen Read More »
I won’t go on at length about Lax’s fascinating biography or the wonders of his minimalism and documentary poetics, because I’ve come to know his work only recently and I don’t have a grasp on its range, but along with George Oppen, Anne Carson, and Ernesto Cardenal, he’s already up there as one of my favorite 20th century meditative writers
To Grid or Not to Grid Read More »
I’m about halfway through Martin Amis’s novel Money, relentless, repellent, ridiculous, exquisitely crafted Money, a 1980s period piece written as if it were destined to be a 1980s period piece.
