Sandra Lim Q&A on form
Sandra Lim talks about determining the form that a poem will take.
Sandra Lim talks about determining the form that a poem will take.
Sandra Lim Q&A talks about a favorite poem by Emily Dickinson.
I can see draughty stars drift inside my skull. Roots and boles and boughs and leaves press at the backs of my eyes. A spider rambles inside my body and scuttles out of my mouth. This suit is an agony. Black flies from the creek fall into my teacup— keep one […]
Spring comes forward as a late-winter confection, and I cannot decide if it advances a philosophy of meekness or daring. This year’s snowdrops: is it that they are spare, and have a slightly fraught lucidity, or are they proof that pain, too, can be ornate? Even a propped skull is human nature. And […]
Rembrandt paints his carcass of beef. You see a little blood near the poppies and don’t think of detachment. Humbert and his girl are driving across America. One has a thirst so unslakeable, one walks right into the river. How exciting spring is! and how errant, holding out love and […]
Each night, the same dream: I’m an odd Victorian mansion in a field of wheat. And I’m either waiting for the field to catch fire or the hearse of love to pull up to the manse. Don’t wake me. In daylight, my mother talks of brideliness as a measure of time: in a kind of […]
Sandra Lim is the author of The Wilderness (W.W. Norton, 2014), selected by Louise Glück for the 2013 Barnard Women Poets Prize, and a previous collection of poetry, Loveliest Grotesque (Kore Press, 2006). She has received fellowships from the MacDowell Colony, the Vermont Studio Center, the Getty Research Institute, and the Jentel Foundation. She is […]