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There should be a warning on the cover of Moby-Dick. Beware, it should say, reading this will require blood.

We are always towards an abstraction, one way or the other, but the use of detail, how we emphasize or mute, or play with an image is at the heart of contemporary poetics.

These poems thread and rethread the nature of identity—in theology and philosophy, called the problem of haecceity.

Mary Karr and Christopher Robinson discuss Heather McHugh's poem "I Knew I'd Sing."

Last week we made the exciting announcement that Ben Pease's Scattered Rhymes podcast was making itself a home at THEthe.

[Poem of the Week: Maya Funaro and Colie Hoffman]

Amid labyrinthine syntax, Timothy Donnelly is battling a kind of Minotaur: half-self, half-metaphysical conundrum; Donnelly's sword is his mind.

We have seven hues, a silver gyre, seven swords of vision, and a prophet's flaming tyre. Beats me as to what Campbell means, but almost all lyrical poems contain such moments of high gibberish.

One senses Zapruder has only been thinking of his subjects only for as long as it takes him to write the poem: they’re happening, as opposed to happened.

Grad school: Don't go. That is, don't go--unless you must.

We're pleased to announce that Ben Pease's Scattered Rhymes podcast is going to become the official podcast of THEthe!

[Recording: Joe Weil]

I try to tell my students that professionalism can be murderous. It can not offer what poetry truly has to give. It can succeed at the level of men, but it can not fail at the level of the truly profound and meaningful pact we make with love, beyond, and perhaps, because of our futility.

[Poem of the Week: Rosanne Wasserman]

Forgiveness is therefore the very life of conversation and the heart of discourse. Without a constant flow of forgiveness even disagreement is impossible.

All metaphors are, eventually, false, inaccurate, distortians of reality. Reality itself is a distortion. Frost--the conservative--said as much.