This poem is part of a series of poems on walking in nature that I’ve drafted recently, as I’ve been living in rural New England for the last three years and walking a good deal with my little dog. It’s also part of a series of poems as spells/“dispels,” embracing the poem as a channel for spiritual communion and for diminishing fear through utterance and movement.
Anna Maria Hong on "Dispellations: Palm Sunday" |
|
|
"Joseph Brodsky Slept Here"
"After a decades-long standoff with the last resident of a communal apartment, a private museum has finally opened in Brodsky’s shared home in St. Petersburg, a rare grass-roots victory in Russia."
via THE NEW YORK TIMES |
|
|
What Sparks Poetry:
Aaron McCollough on Denise Levertov's The Poet In The World
"We are, as she says, 'living our whole lives in a state of emergency' and therefore have no choice but to resist the petty politics of disenfranchisement peddled by nationalist revanchism and instead to embrace a truly radical form of conservatism—the effort to 'save that earthly life, that miracle of being, which poetry conserves and celebrates.'" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
