Watch Your Language shadows So to Speak, offering what the poems can’t—not explanations of the origins of lyric impulse, but a recreation of the process involved in coaxing it.
The dead lover is the eternal muse, his voice revoked by death, his consent unattainable.
We have to do so much for you, don’t you see? You play all day while we work so hard.
I suspect that everything I do or say after 11 pm is lunatic. Panic about it at 5 am. In real life a police officer shoots a man twenty times in his own backyard. Is there someplace else to stand? No. (Shaved pubes.)
But they also promise a conditional escape: if you attain the right knowledge and listen to the right people, you might be able to save yourself and those you love.
When Pittsburgh refuses to see the world, the city becomes unbearably precious and self-congratulating; and when Pittsburgh refuses to see itself, it takes as truth each insult it has ever received.
The Downward Spiral, a record explicitly concerned with the decay that issues from indulgence, was recorded in the house that killed the 1960s, in the city that projects image over substance, where glamor circumscribes and hides destitution on a daily basis, in the state that makes consummate the double nature of the frontier as both the height of American exceptionalism and the embodiment of its most brutal expansionist tendencies
Armen Davoudian’s first full-length book, The Palace of Forty Pillars, shows for the first time in far too long what meters and rhymes and inherited forms, used deftly and clearly to speak of real lives, can do.
In forlorn diners and working-class bars lay the solution to a mystery hiding in plain sight. If one could only drill down into the center of the country’s psyche, one might reason a way back from the brink.
I’m at the Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles with a friend waiting on a green card. He’s just moved to Ohio. Same as me.
But more and more Robinson’s public statements have tended to emphasize a broadminded civic rhetoric and a wishy-washy liberalism that seem a far cry from the radicalism evinced in early works like Mother Country.
Falling out of love, with an object as much as with a person, is a rupture between the past and present selves.