“I saw sea stars clinging on sea stacks and tufted puffins walking like older men. It always comes back to water and animals and seeing animals in their habitats unbothered by humans.”
“I saw sea stars clinging on sea stacks and tufted puffins walking like older men. It always comes back to water and animals and seeing animals in their habitats unbothered by humans.”
“Paris, for me, after having lived there so many years, gives a sense of permanence and rootedness to my work. It feels like home, as do Napoli and Charleston…”
“I was a Fulbright professor in Oldenburg, staying for a year, and the room I rented was in the town’s very tiny red light district, arranged by my boss as, I think, a kind of joke.”
Having wandered through my share of vast, eerily deserted archaeological sites, I was pulled in by the first line of Ernest Hilbert's poem, "Dusk in the Ruins": "I arrive, one more uninvited guest." With this unsentimental tone established, the speaker explores...
By Megan Harlan Few places can both cure and inspire farsickness like a library. Now, we all know—or have been firmly told—that print is officially dead and the Internet has killed the research desk. But what Google, e-books, and their ilk can't provide is the...
I have always been fascinated by the way Emily Dickinson -- legendary for rarely traveling beyond her western Massachusetts backyard -- populates her poems with so many exotic locales. And she does so with such playful abandon, as if the place-names are her own vast...
This poem jumped out at me in a recent issue of the literary journal, Southwest Review, thanks to its unlikely subject-matter -- it's the first poem I've ever run across about a motorcycle rally. But I love the way the poem rushes headlong into the strange,...
I'm planning a trip to New York -- I almost wrote, "home" to New York, though I haven't lived there in years -- where my family and I will be staying way downtown, in the thick of Manhattan's original streets. It got me thinking about Columbus Park -- not far from...