Elizabeth Bishop

“Poetry Means You’re Writing About the World”: An Interview with Anne Winters

I was introduced to Ms. Winters’ work in graduate school and, ever since, have been a ardent admirere of her lushly orchestrated, yet intimate and searingly honest poems about the “big issues” that so many contemporary poets seem to shy away from: race, class, poverty, and gender.

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Lowell’s Bedlam: John McCullough

by John McCullough July 6, 2011 Poetry and Poetics

All acts of observation are partial and reveal as much about the observer as the observed.

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Lowell’s Bedlam: M G Stephens

by M G Stephens July 5, 2011 Poetry and Poetics

Alfred Corn’s play gives us an inner portrait of Robert Lowell that is not found in either the biography or the poetry itself.

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Poem of the Week: Carolyn Kizer

by Joe Weil March 31, 2011 Poems of the Week

[The Great Blue Heron]

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Alfred Corn’s play Lowell’s Bedlam

by THEthe Poetry Blog Editors March 29, 2011 Poems of the Week

[April 7, London]

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Portland

by Stuart Krimko March 25, 2010 Memoir

I’m sitting up in bed, or on the couch, as it were, where I have been trying to sleep off the slew of vodka-and-tonics I downed last night at our Sand Paper Press reading here in Portland. Shawn Vandor, whose Fire at the end of the rainbow was just reviewed over at Dossier, and I [...]

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The Flaming Poodle of the Mind: Poetry Readings, Vaudeville & Louise Gluck’s Legs

by Joe Weil March 16, 2010 Aesthetics

If I am anything at all, I am a vaudevillian. Considering that vaudville has been stone dead the last 80 years, that’s a hard thing to be, but wouldn’t you want to attend a reading where, first, someone read Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art” beautifully, followed by a white poodle jumping through a fiery hula hoop, then a great tap dancer, and then a good torch singer doing “Strange Fruit,” topped off by a rousing version of Etheridge Knight’s “All Fucked Up”?

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Seventeen Years Ago Last March: Elizabeth Bishop’s Grand Finale

by Adam Fitzgerald March 6, 2010 Art

‘Crusoe in England’ was first published in The New Yorker in 1971, then later collected in ‘Geography III,’ perhaps Bishop’s finest single volume of poems. (Only recently I discovered the title of which was suggested to her by John Ashbery. He had found a little geography textbook of the eponymous name, and sent it to her, thinking she’d rather enjoy it. Turns out, she did.)

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