Sandra Beasley Q&A on the form of her poem “Let Me Count the Waves”
Sandra Beasley talks about the formal strategy of her sestina “Let Me Count the Waves.”
closebits
This Little Game
When I’m washing my hands I think of a name of someone I don’t know. Like Evangeline or Rufus or BobBob. And I sing happy birthday inserting that name at the proper time, stopping only and turning off the water when I reach the end of the song. This little game ensures I am washing […]
After Reading Tu Fu, I Emerge from a Cloud of Falseness
wearing a suit of light. It’s too easy to be strange. I glow reading a few pages of an ancient Chinese poet to calm me, but soon I am traveling down terrible roads like an insect chased by golden armies. Then I am tired in […]
Journey Through the Past
Listening to Neil Young in California is like throwing away the old pills that used to cure something and turning your face towards the day, i.e. the ocean filling the window with grey boats floating in totally bright present aloneness. For several weeks on my lap top I had a picture of […]
This Handwriting
This afternoon I heard the small voice speaking again, though no one was there. I could not hear the words though from the helpless complicated tone I knew it was something like someday you will realize you already know you must go elsewhere to be free. Maybe the white island with just a few necessary […]
Mathew Zapruder Q&A discusses two of his poems
Mathew Zapruder talks about his poems “After Reading Tu Fu, I Emerge from a Cloud of Falseness” and “Journey Through the Past.”
A Theory of Everything
It has something to do with invisible string rippling out across a universal sunset, wrapping us up like the perfect brown corded package. Something to do with the vibration of stars— how they flicker in tune with each other, humming cosmically. And though I’ve never seen this reported anywhere I also believe it […]
This Is the World
This is also the world. A small boy drops a maple leaf down a well. A girl, slightly larger, does likewise— peering over the stone lip to guess the leaf’s curled and wayward descent. Across the yard, behind a stardust bush, the housecat is toying with something still alive. It flits through the grass, […]