Who’s to Say We Aren’t Robots?
Rebecca Morgan Frank’s Oh You Robot Saints!, reviewed by J. Ahana-Laba
Rebecca Morgan Frank’s Oh You Robot Saints!, reviewed by J. Ahana-Laba
A Review of Carlos Sirah’s The High Alive: An Epic Hoodoo Diptych
“The dark, for me, is always a place of brimming; even when it is anguishing and unbearable. . .”
“In English, speakers are actors and objects are acted upon. A persimmon is there to be eaten. For Powhatan speakers, it just as likely might not be there since the persimmon, like other objects of the natural world, has an agency and animacy of its own.”—an essay by Emily Parzybok
“I wanted people to fall in love with nature through words and want to protect it, the way I had as a child, writing on a concrete stoop in a subdivision. In a way, words were my quarry. I mined their layers for meaning, and when I made something beautiful and useful from them, I felt lighter somehow, as if the overburden of living—the debris of its many griefs—had been lifted.”—an essay by Melissa Reeser Poulin
“At times, forgetting is essential. In the poem, that refers to the way one person, a mother, a woman, part of a traditional family where roles and expectations are clearly cut, needs to forget about that part of hers in order to breathe, to tend to the little things that make her happy—like doing her nails—to keep it going. We are a multitude of things, after all.”
Conducted by Jennifer Elise Foerster
The most difficult death is forgiveness
“A poem’s sweetness leads to its own devouring.”—an essay by Jehanne Dubrow
“Often, as I attempt to solve literary problems, I find my mind working not in language, but in music or in space.”