Poem: If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda

I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that...
On Writing: Where And How I Write

On Writing: Where And How I Write

I read something today that really surprised me. The brilliant Kris Rusch wrote that some writers cannot write on planes. This surprised me, because I’ve never been one of those writers who just writes in a certain location or a certain environment. Sure,...
Poem: Bumblebees Are Made of Ash

Poem: Bumblebees Are Made of Ash

Bumblebees Are Made of Ash Martha Silano (@marthasilano in Thrush Literary Journal) The day is a dragonfly hovering in the Timothy. It could rain for months before the sun goes down. An orange buoy bobs while a sparrow sings through a wall. The world smells of cedar,...
Poem: Ligament

Poem: Ligament

Last spring, I had the pleasure of spending an evening with Charif Shanahan at the AWP conference, when we were both invited readers for a reading sponsored by our publishers. I’m excited that his poem Ligament appeared in The New York Times Magazine in the...
In Search of Doors: V.E. Schwab

In Search of Doors: V.E. Schwab

A simply marvelous Tolkien Lecture by the wonderful writer Victoria Schwab. Schwab speaks of J.K. Rowling, Neil Gaiman, Susanne Clarke and so many more writers who have my world astonishing, more hopeful and yes, stranger as well. I truly enjoyed every moment of this...