For Nada and Gary
Epithalamion: how to say it?
Belted beside a player piano?
Or quired behind a file of hired sea nymphs?
Where to stand? Hip-deep in the loving cup
where two lovers' lips make the leaps?
Pleding Troth, Truth's downstairs neighbor
whose broken English belies sad eyes?
Lovers of this little world, unite! You have much to gain by chain.
Queen of clank, King of clink, kiss and make up
a republic in which we all someday can live.
Give yourselves away, be brides,
be merry and multiply, square roots
of our song. How to sing it? Alone
with us, in this company, swear nothing, love long.
This is gonna be a loooooong post. What follows is a freely edited transcription of my notes from the Zukofsky/100 conference at Columbia t...
Midway through my life's journey comes a long moment of reflection and redefinition regarding poetics (this comes in place of the conver...
Will be blogging more or less permanently now at http://www.joshua-corey.com/blog/ . Or follow me on Twitter: @joshcorey
My title is taken from the comments stream of an article recently published by The Chronicle of Higher Education , David Alpaugh's "...
Elif Batuman has amplified her criticism of the discipline of creative writing (which I've written about before ) in a review-essay tha...
Thursday, September 29, 2011 Berlin. Fog of sleep deprivation coloring an otherwise perfect blue autumn day a sort of miasmic yellow i...
Trained it down to DePaul's Loop campus this morning to take part in a panel, "Why Writers Should Blog," alongside Tony Trigil...
In one week Lake Forest will hold its commencement and I'll take off my professor's hat for the summer. A few weeks later, in June, ...
Farewell, Barbara Guest .
That's one of my own lines. From an untitled (they're all untitled) severance song: After form fails a furling, reports dying away,...