Year One, by Franz Wright
Year One
I was still standing
on a northern corner.Moonlit winter clouds the color of the desperation of wolves.
Proof
of Your existence? There is nothing
but.
Year One
I was still standing
on a northern corner.Moonlit winter clouds the color of the desperation of wolves.
Proof
of Your existence? There is nothing
but.
The Next Big Thing: remember chain mail? This is that, but for writers.
The Next Big Thingis a pretty cool self-interview situation in which one author tags five other…
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Robinson Alone and Kees Remembered: An Interview with Author Kathleen Rooney
Literature and art and music have a long and storied (sordid?) history of key characters offing…
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Mother Ginger and The Nutcracker: An Interview with Jenna Bush Hager
Every year at the Long Center is one of the most worthwhile pieces of what some would call “high…
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Discovering the Afterlife and the Democracy of 7-Eleven: An Interview with Poet Dorothea Lasky
Some of the greatest, most insightful, most dangerous, and most damn interesting writing happening…
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A Feature Interview with Michael Pollan, Best-Selling Author of The Omnivore’s Dilemma and Other Great Books
There’s no shortage of great nonfiction books, but not too often does an author have a significant…
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Divine Fits and Substitute Teaching: An Interview with Spoon’s Britt Daniel
Spoonis the epitome of a sure thing. Every couple years they release a new album of understated pop…
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Democracy, Hype, and Hooters: An Interview with Ed Droste of Grizzly Bear
Few bands can make music as unabashedly “pretty” as Grizzly Bear, but it may not have been until…
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The city once again has forgotten to clean up after itself, and pieces
of last night scatter in the breezes.
Everyone broke them up, plots of land
each with their own story, their own climax and resolution—
where the Smiths lived, once
had the Browns. If you said you were one of them
no one would deny it. And telephone poles stood like students
waiting their turn. There, the new year is back
into last year’s habits, like a ghost
who frequents the haunts of his lifetime. And we could fall in love.
—
This poem originally appeared in Quarterly West.
(Source: bigbigmess)
I was interviewed for an hour long radio show in the Bay Area, hosted by the most excellent J.P. Dancing Bear, editor of American Poetry Journal and Dream Horse Press. It was a very good time.
Listen here.
Sometimes it’s easy to lose faith in poetry. It’s easy to think that no one cares, that there is no readership for it, save for the people who have the initials M.F.A. affiliated with their names. Then a little random thing like this happens:
Apparently, someone found my poem “Citrus” on the Kenyon Review website, liked it and sent it to a tumblr called Sharing Poetry. And there, with no knowledge by me, my poem, one that has never appeared in a book, was liked and reblogged by dozens of people. I think that’s awesome.
Even if most of the people who read the poem have no idea that I am alive and an actual human being, it’s nice to know such a thing can happen. In a way, a poem is more beautiful if it’s not attached to the walking flaw that is a person. Then it can just be.
I did a reading for the St. Edward’s Literary Festival, and for it I was interviewed by Sigma Tau Delta. I was asked about what superhero power I’d want and my least favorite word, among other random things.
Here ‘tis.
A while back The Austin Chronicle did a brief write-up of Punchline. My favorite part:
“Using quotations from Einstein, Lorca, and Carl Sagan as jumping off points, the compact but ambitiously scoped Punchline touches on religion, cityscapes, the I Ching, absent others (departed or just not picking up the phone), and the kind of the-universe-is-expanding soul-searching that’s fueled insomniac nights for as long as that universe has had a name.”
Read the rest here.
One of the funnest and most worthwhile things I’ve done promoting Punchline was appearing on Writing on the Air, which is a weekly radio show on KOOP Community Radio in Austin. It’s hosted by Francois Pointeau, with backup from Dillon McKinsey.
A proud moment: I was actually censored by the government for saying not “fuck” or “shit” or threatening to kill heads of state, but for uttering the phrase “holy crap.” Isn’t that crazy?
Listen here.