“When I look back at those years during which poetry formed such an important part of my identity, I am tempted to rub my eyes, as though recalling a time when I ran off and joined the circus.”
– Phillip Lopate, At the End of the Day: Selected Poems
and an Introductory Essay (Marsh Hawk Press, 2010)
Read more about Phillip Lopate.
Read an interview with Phillip Lopate at Poets & Writers.
Read two poems from At the End of the Day: Selected Poems and an Introductory Essay.
Posts Tagged ‘American novelists’
Phillip Lopate
2010/01/24Siri Hustvedt
2009/06/18
“I think we all have ghosts inside us, and it’s better when they speak than when they don’t.”
- Siri Hustvedt, The Sorrows of an American (Sceptre, 2009)
Kelly Cherry’s Hazard and Prospect
2009/05/08The Rose
Kelly Cherry
A botanical lecture
It’s the cup of blood,
the dark drink lovers sip,
the secret food
It’s the pulse and elation
of girls on their birthdays,
it’s good-byes at the railroad station
It’s the murmur of rain,
the blink of daylight
in a still garden, the clink
of crystal; later, the train
pulling out, the white cloth,
apples, pears, and champagne –
good-bye! good-bye!
We’ll weep petals, and dry
our tears with thorns
A steep country springs up beyond
the window, with a sky like a pond,
a flood. It’s a rush
of bright horror, a burning bush,
night’s heart,
the living side of the holy rood
It’s the whisper of grace in the martyrs’ wood
from Hazard and Prospect: New and Selected Poems
(Louisiana State University Press, 2007)
Anne Lamott on writing
2009/04/09
“Day by day, you have to give the work before you all the best stuff you have, not saving up for later projects. If you give freely, there will always be more.”
- Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
John Updike (1932 – 2009)
2009/01/28“A healthy male adult bore consumes each year one and a half times his own weight in other people’s patience.”
“Each morning my characters greet me with misty faces willing, though chilled, to muster for another day’s progress through the dazzling quicksand the marsh of blank paper.”
“Writers take words seriously – perhaps the last professional class that does – and they struggle to steer their own through the crosswinds of meddling editors and careless typesetters and obtuse and malevolent reviewers into the lap of the ideal reader.”
“The writer must face the fact that ordinary lives are what most people live most of the time, and that the novel as a narration of the fantastic and the adventurous is really an escapist plot; that aesthetically the ordinary, the banal, is what you must deal with.”
“The refusal to rest content, the willingness to risk excess on behalf of one’s obsessions, is what distinguishes artists from entertainers, and what makes some artists adventurers on behalf of us all.”
“I would especially like to recourt the Muse of poetry, who ran off with the mailman four years ago, and drops me only a scribbled postcard from time to time.”
“From earliest childhood I was charmed by the materials of my craft, by pencils and paper and, later, by the typewriter and the entire apparatus of printing. To condense from one’s memories and fantasies and small discoveries dark marks on paper which become handsomely reproducible many times over still seems to me, after nearly 30 years concerned with the making of books, a magical act, and a delightful technical process. To distribute oneself thus, as a kind of confetti shower falling upon the heads and shoulders of mankind out of bookstores and the pages of magazines is surely a great privilege and a defiance of the usual earthbound laws whereby human beings make themselves known to one another.”
