My daughter’s sleep/ wave machine/ becomes a granular datum of cheer
The poet Richie Hofmann discusses growing up in Germany, reading translated poems, and of course, his poetry.
Perhaps my need to appear/ happy at all times comes from a fear/ of my true thoughts and desires.
Olivia Laing discusses the spaces she works, the one skill that writers need, and the writers she returns to again and again.
Will some lightly clapping hands remain/ in places where death walked through?
Constantly shifting my interests trying to mirror those of the men, I no longer knew who I was without pretending or playing games.
Wayétu Moore discusses her transformative debut novel She Would Be King, a retelling of Liberia’s formation story steeped in magical realism.
Each month, Blurbed features a curated list of things to read, events to attend and news from the Journal.
In her new collection, Rebecca Solnit bravely tackles the American crises that imperil our humanity as well as our survival.
It was you, wasn’t it, Belmira? I know you can’t hear me, now that you’ve gone someplace far away.
The house is endless only in its emptiness, so vast/ there seemed trapped the wind itself.
Ritvo refuses to wade with us in our fruitless investigation of life's meaning. Instead, he gives us poetry: affirming, beautiful, and mortal.