Posts
“In Their Names” argues that the best way to help victims of crime is to create circumstances that will diminish the chance that they will become victims again.
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There’s bad news and good news at the Woods Hole Film Festival.
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Rachel Hadas’s book of prose poems is a set of meditations grounded in a life well lived and much observed, an experimental field for examining the nature of [human] potentialities.
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My reviewing this movie is like Proust reviewing a tea-dipped madeleine, but I think even old Marcel could spot when bits of the sponge cake were stale or too soggy.
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This week’s poem: Cheryl J. Fish’s “Wind (Iceland 10)”
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Mother Nature provided singular and poetic assistance during Sunday’s afternoon outing at Tanglewood.
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It’s difficult to say if Steve Forbert sounds youthful now or if he has long since fully grown into his always expressive and distinctive voice. Or both.
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Ozzy also gave us all the inspiration to overcome whatever dipshit, fucked up, and idiotic things we did, because he did just that, and generated plenty of good in the process.
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It would be hard to name another successful artist so passionately demeaned by the music press.
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Arts Remembrance: Fanny Howe — A Poet for the Spiritually Audacious
Fanny Howe’s writing pursued, as she put it, “bewilderment as a poetics and a politics.”
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