Live Nude Poems

Here's a pic, stolen from January O'Neil's blog, Poet Mom  (thanks!). I'm the hairy guy at the back, along with the much-less-hairy  January, Colleen, Walnut and Jennifer , beginning from the rear. I had a great time with this, even including the 45 steps to the third floor of the Phillips House  in Salem MA, where the event was held. In the heat we all talked about our favorite poets, even admitting to some schoolboy/schoolgirl like crushes like mine for Frank Stanford . I'm an awfully fickle reader and lover of poetry as a rule. I simply dump shit I don't enjoy reading and wait for my next pass of donations to get rid of it. But somehow my fickleness has never evidenced itself with Frank Stanford. I read and read and I never get tired. If you haven't read him, I feel badly for you. Circle of Lorca BY FRANK STANFORD When you take the lost road You come to the snow And when you find the snow You get down on your hands and knees Like a sick d...

Hi everybody. Long time no see. I had visitors for a week, I got behind on Night Train , the kids got sick all at once, and here I am, with no posts for a while except my self-puffery, which I'm trying to avoid (but no one else will do it; see my dilemma?). I've been trying to restart my poetry engine by going back and forth between new-to-me poets and standbys. I'll have a short review or commentary on Drought Resistant Strain , poetry by Mather Schneider and possibly another, on an anthology called New European Poets , up on the blog soon .  The latter will be a little slower in coming because I have to rethink my approach to 'criticizing' poetry, not just because of this book, but mostly. See, I'm ignorant of a lot of contemporary European poetry (among many other things), and it's so different in some ways from American poetry it's as if the two barely communicate--or have communicated--at all. And I want to communicate , in my own work, which is...