Sarah Lindsay is the author of four poetry collections, Debt to the Bone-Eating Snotflower (Copper Canyon Press, 2013), Twigs and Knucklebones (Copper Canyon Press, 2008), Mount Clutter (Grove Press, 2002), and Primate Behavior (Grove Press, 1997), a finalist for the National Book Awards. Sarah is a recipient of a the 2012 Carolyn Kizer Prize, a […]
I know how little I know from observation: that the dog sleeping on the rug with pure concentration will be sleeping, each time I look up, in a different direction, that five wart-lidded mushrooms can form on the lawn in the time rain takes to shift from falling to fallen, that my eyes […]
When Jupiter shields Valhalla impact basin from the light of the small white sun and the streaming particles of its wind, the patients who are able may come and linger in the courtyard, with its soothing views of a thoroughly fireproof world— concentric rings and ridges of ice and stone to the black horizon. The […]
Life on this planet persists in knitting its minerals into animal and vegetable variations, behaving at all times like the central point of the cosmos, and because it is water it seeks the paths of least resistance and pauses sometimes to admire itself, because it is earth it may subside in camouflage or darkness or […]
The tallest elephant draws night down in a swathe that unrolls and falls and folds on her shoulders, doubles back, doubles again, heaping its thicknesses into pure dark. Safe in that velvet, elephants sleep on the ground for an hour, and kudu on buckled knees. Birds cover their heads; dusk-hunting snakes compose themselves around […]
The world is large and full of ice; it is hard to amaze. Its attention may take the form of sea leopards. That much any penguin knows that staggers onto Cape Royds in the spring. They bark, they bow one to another, she swans forward, he walks on her back, they get on with it. […]
Sarah Lindsay discusses the genesis of her poem “Valhalla Burn Unit on the Moon Callisto.”
Sarah Lindsay talks about her writing time.