11/17/17: Thanksgiving

When I went over to Casey’s house she had made soup for me and I almost cried because of it. She couldn’t have known that it was exactly the gesture that I needed at that moment, but somehow she did. She was just delighting in being able to share with me. Food people are like that, I’ve found. They are mostly prompted to do what they do out of care.

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Winter for the writer: Anne Carson and ancient blindness

While I was in Las Vegas last weekend I picked up a copy of Anne Carson’s first collection of poetry, Short Talks. The Brick Books edition has an introduction by Margaret Christakos, who clearly understands the breadth of Carson’s work. Christakos points out to the reader the themes of winter landscapes in Short Talks, the use of reflection and light as tropes and what those might have to do with snow and ice and growing up in Ontario, as Carson did. Continue reading