Q&A Sean Nevin on his poem ‘Sundowning’
Sean Nevin talks about his poem “Sundowning.”
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Q&A Sean Nevin on his poem ‘Oblivio Gate’
Sean Nevin talks about his poem “Oblivio Gate.”
Sean Nevin
Sean Nevin is the author of Oblivio Gate, selected for the Crab Orchard Award Series First Book Prize (Southern Illinois University Press) and A House That Falls (Slapering Hol Press). His honors include a Literature Fellowship in Poetry from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Robinson Jeffers Tor House Prize for Poetry selected by […]
The Aspirin Papers
—for Sean On the white lacquered radio from Manilla something by Ravel that is so heavily illustrated it has made you dizzy and nauseous. The tall villain from the Kingdom has been shot through the eye and your three year-old daughter paces before the muted hotel television wringing her hands and with half-breaths, […]
Encanto’s Ferry
He left the tent of the soup kitchen, passing a friend without speaking. A mockingbird freeing every song it had heard in those last brackish hours of evening. He lit a cigarette. Something clean like gin was what he was missing… He walked over the gravel to the new power station which at night […]
South Boston Morning, ’53:
Very pragmatic closets of falling water, bath and sewer, complex dwellers eating black bread, molasses and stringy beef, eggs like fat flowers smack the backs of griddlecakes and rain is thrown against the window white and elastic with one blue gull in a loud commentary. The sea is dark and choppy. So far, out […]
The Amulet
For Laura Blackbirds are scribbling in the winter heat of the trees. You are accompanying reindeer over frozen water, a large cow Collapses along a rising incline of rotten ice With hundreds of animals, now both quick and shy, Pushing you over into the pine woods And then nearly into a darkening […]
The Shadows at Boxford
It’s not the white powder cauliflower of still-distant moons. Maybe just the old salacious sump of salt pork frying with milk? It was, she thought, the modus operandi for alien abductions that became a predictable motive for verse. He says he’s going to the corner for Lucky Strikes, a quart of lemonade, and collard […]