Poetry – Page 61 – Michigan Quarterly Review

Poetry

Who Is Billie Nardozzi a.k.a (((Rachel)))?

1 Comment / Emily Nagin

Pittsburgh’s self-styled Premier Poet answers the door in a shimmering, jewel-blue blouse, hair teased into a softer version of a mullet. He’s wearing understated make-up and a mild perfume, something between vanilla and baby powder. On his fingers, rings set with blue jewels catch the early evening light.

Who Is Billie Nardozzi a.k.a (((Rachel)))? Read More »

Pittsburgh’s self-styled Premier Poet answers the door in a shimmering, jewel-blue blouse, hair teased into a softer version of a mullet. He’s wearing understated make-up and a mild perfume, something between vanilla and baby powder. On his fingers, rings set with blue jewels catch the early evening light.

On “Daybed”: An Interview with Zach Savich

Leave a Comment / Cameron Finch

“One thing I did while writing this book was to try to imagine what it would mean if this world—with all its horrors, sufferings, reasons to turn away—were Paradise. That’s not a logical thought or a purely “positive” one. Among other places, it took me to Blake, in whose work affirmation and annihilation often mix.”

On “Daybed”: An Interview with Zach Savich Read More »

By Cameron Finch

“One thing I did while writing this book was to try to imagine what it would mean if this world—with all its horrors, sufferings, reasons to turn away—were Paradise. That’s not a logical thought or a purely “positive” one. Among other places, it took me to Blake, in whose work affirmation and annihilation often mix.”

“The Way I Feel the World”: An Interview with Lawrence Joseph

Leave a Comment / Rachel Farrell

I was born into a Detroit that was the fourth largest city in the United States, one of America’s greatest and most important cities.

“The Way I Feel the World”: An Interview with Lawrence Joseph Read More »

By Philip Metres

I was born into a Detroit that was the fourth largest city in the United States, one of America’s greatest and most important cities.

“Constant Spring,” by Lorna Goodison

Leave a Comment / MQR Staff

Here you are still doing the island’s housekeeping,
Scour and rinse out the mouth of a river
bind weeds and refuse clogged.

“Constant Spring,” by Lorna Goodison Read More »

By Lorna Goodison

Here you are still doing the island’s housekeeping,
Scour and rinse out the mouth of a river
bind weeds and refuse clogged.

“The Day Has Come When My Mother,” by Cathy Song

Leave a Comment / Rachel Farrell

The day has come when my mother
no longer knows me.
It comes on a day of dying
paperwhites, crumpled
like words torn from a typewriter.

“The Day Has Come When My Mother,” by Cathy Song Read More »

The day has come when my mother
no longer knows me.
It comes on a day of dying
paperwhites, crumpled
like words torn from a typewriter.

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