This is an early poem in my first book. It’s uncanny how much foreshadowing there is here. Counting the birds inside someone is the premise of my second book. I didn’t realize it was here the whole time. I didn't know what to do with my hands in Crush: they kept turning into birds. In my second book the birds landed. And they started talking.
Richard Siken on "Seaside Improvisation" |
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Alina Stefanescu on Alice Notley
"Poetry is the medium where the question 'where am I?' is inseparable from the story of what I am and what we have done. Poetry is the refusal of time-space that separates the living from the dead. And sometimes, poetry is the woman on a porch at night, her tongues loose and 'waggling,' the serpents rising from the roof of her mind if only to writhe across the scalp’s surface before slithering onto the page. Alice Notley taught me that. She keeps teaching."
via PERIODICITIES |
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What Sparks Poetry:
Elizabeth T. Gray, Jr. on Drafts
"What was this? Where did it come from? How did it get there? Had it not been in my notebook, in my handwriting, between two journal entries that I did recall writing, I would have tried to dismiss it somehow. But there it was. It would not be trifled with, so I put aside the various poetry experiments and series on which I’d been working and stepped into its weird lyric space-time of After the operation....” |
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