Allen Grossman has died.  For all his "poet's poetry" and scholarly persona, he declared, “The making of poems is a practice — a work human beings can do . . ."  That is, not so much an act of eruditon, but of humanity.

A practice.

A doing.

Good-bye, Prof. Grossman.

Take a look at this poet

Sara Deniz Akant has eight poems featured here by Pen America, and two more appear in jubilat 25 (not yet online).  I am new to her writing, and I'm intrigued by it.  The two poems in jubilat ring like Hopkins: that is, their sprung rhythm.  I hope to hear them read.

Here's a sample from jubilat . . .

Gammadin

the rollings changed, gone
as soon as they came to
conceal, dense trees.

so often the case in our dreams.

there seemed no end to these dimless
woods : immense, in-hammered,
in solid-start : in gammadin we stood.

A good start to summer reading.  Looking forward to the rest of the season!
 

My semi-annual blog post

Every once in a while, I remember that I set up this blog years ago.  Why, I don't know.  Okay, I do know.  Everybody else has a blog, so why not me?  I must get with the times. The problem is that I can't stay with the times.  It's boring.  And a verbal selfie.