Posts Categorized: Poetry

The City, Our City

Contributor Wayne Miller‘s new poetry collection, The City, Our City, is now available from Milkweed Editions as a paperback and e-book!

A series of semi-mythologized, symbolic narratives interspersed with dramatic monologues, the poems collected in The City, Our City showcase the voice of a young poet striking out, dramatically, emphatically, to stake his claim on “the City.” It is an unnamed, crowded place where the human questions and observations found in almost any city—past, present, and future—ring out with urgency. These poems—in turn elegiac, celebratory, haunting, grave, and joyful—give hum to our modern experience, to all those caught up in the City’s immensity.

You can read his poem, “The People’s History,” in issue 33.1, which also startles and haunts and compels:

The People moved up the street in a long column—
like a machine boring a tunnel. They sang
the People’s songs, they chanted the People’s slogans:
We are the People, not the engines of the City;
we, the people, will not be denied. Then the People
descended upon the People, swinging hardwood batons
heavy with the weight of the People’s intent.
And the People surged, then, into the rows before them [ . . . ]

Gathering Radiance

Dear Poetry People,

This weekend here in Indiana was glorious–a positively tropical 75!–and as a result I decided to take a drive through Brown County State Park to marvel at the magnificent reds and golds. I had forgotten, however, about wind and rain the previous week, and upon passing through the gate was devastated to see many of the turned leaves fallen, or hanging brown. I forgot how fast autumn goes, how easy it is to miss a season, or let life drain by. As I drove back, cider in hand, I couldn’t help long for a copy of  Louise Gluck’s chapbook October. It is a lyric beauty that both rails against and welcomes, questions and illuminates, the coming darkness that October foreshadows. Each year her words somehow prepare me for an impending winter, all the while reminding me of the wonder in a flagrant fall that announces its arrival. May you too enjoy October, for:

“This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us.
Surely it is a privilege to approach the end
still believing in something.”

 

MFA Master Class with Steve Scafidi

Last week, one of IR‘s favorite contributors, Steve Scafidi, spent several evenings here in Bloomington to write, read, and talk about poetry with us.  Check out some scenes from our time with Steve:

A poem should matter as much as stepping on a nail, or being kissed —
If I step on a nail I could die; if I’m kissed my life could change from such a thing.
Steve Scafidi, IU MFA Master Class