CONTRIBUTORSâ NOTES AND COMMENTS
SHERMAN ALEXIE was born in 1966 and grew up on the Spokane Indian Reservation. His first collection of stories, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven (1993), won a PEN/Hemingway Award. In collaboration with Chris Eyre, a Cheyenne / Arapaho Indian filmmaker, Alexie adapted a story from that book, âThis Is What It Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona,â into the screenplay for the movie Smoke Signals. His most recent books are the poetry collection Face, from Hanging Loose Press, and War Dances, a volume of stories and poems from Grove Press. He is lucky enough to be a full-time writer and lives with his family in Seattle.
Of âTerminal Nostalgia,â Alexie writes: âFor such a young country, the United States is intensely nostalgic. And Internet cultureâwith its endless remixes of pop cultureâis even more nostalgic. As for the particular brand of nostalgia that afflicts Native Americans? Well, it has a lot to do with romanticizing pre-Columbian culture. Thinking about all this, I thought Iâd write a ghazal (a seventh-century Arabic poetic form) that combined American pop culture nostalgia with Native American cultural nostalgia. The result is, I believe, funny and sad at the same time, although, when Iâve performed it live, it seems that people are afraid to laugh.â
A. R. AMMONS was born outside Whiteville, North Carolina, in 1926. He started writing poetry aboard a U.S. Navy destroyer escort in the South Pacific in World War II. After his discharge, âArchieââeveryone who knew him called him Archieâattended Wake Forest University, where he studied the sciences. He took a class in Spanish, married the teacher, and went on to work as an executive in his father-in-lawâs biological glass company before he began teaching poetry at Cornell University in 1964. Ammons wrote nearly thirty books of poetry, many published by W. W. Norton, including Glare (1997); Garbage (1993), which won the National Book Award and the Library of Congressâs Rebekah Johnson Bobbitt National Prize for Poetry; A Coast of Trees (1981), which received the National Book Critics Circle Award for Poetry; Sphere (1974), which was awarded the Bollingen Prize; and Collected Poems 1951â1971 (1972), which won the National Book Award. He lived in Ithaca, New York, where he was Goldwin Smith Professor of Poetry at Cornell University until his retirement in 1998. He received a MacArthur Fellowship in 1981, the year the award was established. He was the guest editor of The Best American Poetry 1994. He died on February 25, 2001.
âI write for love, respect, money, fame, honor, redemption,â Ammons told his Paris Review interviewer. âI write to be included in a world I feel rejected by. But I donât want to be included by surrendering myself to expectations. I want to buy my admission to others by engaging their interests and feelings, doing the least possible damage to my feelings and interests but changing theirs a bit. I think I was not aware early on of those things. I wrote early on because it was there to do and because if anything good happened in the poem I felt good. Poems are experiences as well as whatever else they are, and for me now, nothing, not respect, honor, money, seems as supportive as just having produced a body of work, which I hope is, all considered, good.â
One day in 1987, Archie and his wife, Phyllis, were driving north on the I-95 in Florida when a gigantic mound of rubble came into view. The sight hit Ammons like an epiphany: âI thought maybe that was the sacred image of our time,â he said. In The Best American Poetry 1993, Ammons commented: âI wrote âGarbageâ in the late spring of 1989. Because of some medical problems that developed soon after the poem was written, I didnât send it anywhere for a long time. The American Poetry Review very generously accepted it but because of a backlog had to delay publication for a while. By Capoteâs view, the poem is typing, not writing. I wrote it for my own distraction, improvisationally: I used a wide roll of adding machine tape and tore off the sections in lengths of a foot or more. The whole poem is over eighty pages long, so I sent only the first five sections to APR. Norton will publish the whole poem as a book in 1993. Iâve gone over and over my shorter poems to try to get them right, but alternating with work on short poems, I have since the sixties also tried to get some kind of rightness into improvisations.
âThe arrogance implied by getting something right the first time is incredible, but no matter how much an ice skater practices, when she hits the ice itâs all a one-time event: there are falls, of course, but, when itâs right, it seems to have been right itself.â
RAE ARMANTROUT was born in Vallejo, California, in 1947. She teaches writing at the University of California, San Diego. Just Saying, her latest book of poems, is forthcoming from Wesleyan University Press in 2013. âSoft Moneyâ is from her collection Money Shot (Wesleyan, 2011). Her previous book, Versed, also from Wesleyan, won the 2010 Pulitzer Prize.
Armantrout writes: âI started âSoft Moneyâ after hearing an old Duran Duran song, called either âRioâ or âRio Dancer,â on the radio. Some of the verses I could make out were, âRio, Rio dancer âcross the Rio Grande,â and âShe donât need to understand.â The poem spins out of that standard depiction of an exoticized erotic object. It proceeds to run some changes on the always complex relationship between sex and power.â
JOHN ASHBERY was born in Rochester, New York, in 1927. His Notes from the Air: Selected Later Poems (Ecco, 2007) won the 2008 Griffin International Prize for Poetry. The Landscapist, his collected translations of the poetry of Pierre Martory, was published in 2008 by Sheep Meadow Press in the United States and by Carcanet in the United Kingdom. The Library of America published the first volume of his Collected Poems in fall 2008; his most recent collections are Quick Question (2012) and Planisphere (2009), both from Ecco, and a new translation of Arthur Rimbaudâs Illuminations (W. W. Norton, 2011). In 2006, the City Council of New York declared April 7 to be John Ashbery Day in perpetuity in the five boroughs that constitute New York City. âWakefulness,â the poem selected for this volume, is the title poem of Ashberyâs seventeenth book, which was published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux in 1998.
In 1973, Elizabeth Bishop read Ashberyâs Three Poems and wrote to the bookâs author: âAt first I felt extremely baffledâonly a sense of âmotionâ and the extremely good writing led me onâbut now after many re-readings I think I am getting to understand them betterâespecially âThe Recitalââand some of âThe System.â Actually, when I do enjoy passages or pages most, they remind me very oddly of Kierkegaard (whose name I donât remember how to spell right, I think). Although no theologian, probably no Christian, Iâve always been able to read him with the greatest pleasureâand your THREE POEMS have now begun to give me the same sort of pleasure. I hope you donât mind my saying thisâthat I shd. be saying something like they remind me of Yeats! Whateverâyou have really arrived at a personal, purely logical, and deepâas well as beautiful way of saying things. Iâm not a critic and have difficulties expressing myself about poemsâbut Iâm sure this book is very importantâas they say all the time, of courseâbut really, as well.â Ashbery was the guest editor of the inaugural volume in this series, The Best American Poetry 1988.
MARGARET ATWOOD was born in Ottawa, Ontario, in 1939. She was educated at Victoria College, the University of Toronto, Radcliffe College, and Harvard University. She is the author of numerous books of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction. Her novels include The Blind Assassin, which won the Booker Prize in 2000; The Robber Bride (Doubleday, 1993); and The Handmaidâs Tale (1985), which was adapted for the screen by Harold Pinter. The film was directed by Volker Schlöndorff and released in 1990. Oryx and Crake, a dystopic novel, was published in 2003. Both The Tent (mini-fictions) and Moral Disorder (short stories) appeared in 2006. Her most recent volume of poetry, The Door, was published in 2007. An alliterative childrenâs book, Princess Prunella and the Purple Peanut, a paean to a particular letter, was published by Workman in 1995. Atwood has edited The New Oxford Book of Canadian Verse in English (1982), The Best American Short Stories (1989), and The Oxford Book of Canadian Short Stories in English (1986). She lives in Toronto, Canada.
Of âBored,â Atwood writes: âThis is one of a series of poems on my father and his deathâpublished in Morning in the Burned House. The details are from my assistant wood-sawing, house-building, etc., as a child in northern Quebec.â
FRANK BIDART was born in Bakersfield, California, in 1939. In 1957 he entered the University of California, Riverside. In 1962 he began graduate work at Harvard, where he studied with Reuben Brower and Robert Lowell. His books include Star Dust (2005) and Desire (1997), both from Farrar, Straus and Giroux, and a chapbook, Music Like Dirt (2002). Desire received the 1998 Bobbitt Prize for poetry from the Library of Congress and the Theodore Roethke Memorial Poetry Prize. Bidart is the coeditor of Robert Lowellâs Collected Poems (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003). He has taught at Wellesley College since 1972. His long poem âThe Second Hour of the Nightâ appeared in the 1998 edition of The Best American Poetry. He lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Bidart writes: âThink of âInjunctionâ as the injunction heard by an artist faced with the forever warring elements of the world that proceed from the forever unreconciled elements of our nature. It is not meant to stand alone, but to be part of the tapestry of Music Like Dirt.â
STEPHANIE BROWN was born in 1961 in Pasadena, California, and grew up in Newport Beach. She has degrees from Boston University, the University of Iowa Writersâ Workshop, and the University of California, Berkeley. She is the author of two books of poetry, Domestic Interior (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008) and Allegory of the Supermarket (University of Georgia Press, 1998). She is the recipient of fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Bread Loaf Writersâ Conference. Her poems have been published in The American Poetry Review (including covers in 1996 and 2005), Ploughshares, Green Mountains Review, and other print and online journals. She was a curator of the Casa Romantica Reading Series for poets and fiction writers in San Clemente, California, from 2004 to 2010. She has taught creative writing at the University of California, Irvine, and the University of Redlands, but has primarily made her living as a librarian and library manager. She is currently a regional branch manager for Orange County Public Libraries in Southern California. She is a book review editor for the online journal Connotation Press: An Online Artifact and poetry editor for the ZĂłcalo Public Square website.
Of âFeminine Intuition,â Brown writes: âA couple of notes: The three parts of the poem are meant to suggest the three parts (Kore, Demeter, Hecate) of the female life story. âA Woman Clothed with the Sunâ is another name for the Virgin Mary. The more I try to write about this poem, the more it resists me . . . so Iâll leave it at that.â
CHARLES BUKOWSKI was born in Andernach, Germany, in 1920, the only child of an American soldier and a German mother. At the age of three, he came with his family to the United States and grew up in Los Angeles. He attended Los Angeles City College from 1939 to 1941, then left school and moved to New York City to become a writer. He gave up writing in favor of drinking in 1946. After a ten-year binge, he developed a bleeding ulcer and decided to take up writing again. âThatâs the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink,â he wrote in Women. âIf something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.â He worked a wide range of jobs to support his writing, including mail carrier and postal clerk, dishwasher, guard, elevator operator, gas station attendant, stock boy, warehouse worker, and shipping clerk. His first story appeared when he was twenty-four. At the age of thirty-five he began writing poetry. He wrote, he once said, for âthe defeated, the demented, and the damned.â His first book of poetry was published in 1959. He went on to publish more than forty-five books of poetry and prose, including The Last Night of the Earth Poems (Black Sparrow Press, 1992), Post Office (Black Sparrow, 1980), Sifting Through the Madness for the Word, the Line, the Way: New Poems (Ecco, 2003), and Come On In! (HarperCollins, 2006). Bukowskiâs poems swagger and boastâthey are âin your faceâ with boozy breath and unabashed braggadocio; they win you over with their feigned artlessness and candor that conceal artistry and calculation. According to unofficial bookstore records, shoplifters favor Bukowski over any other writer. He died of leukemia on March 9, 1994.
Bukowski wrote: âThe more said about a poem, the less it becomes.â
ANNE CARSON was born in Toronto, Canada, in 1950. She teaches ancient Greek at various places, now at New York University. Her most recent books are NOX (New Directions, 2011) and Red Doc> (Knopf, 2013).
Of âThe Life of Towns,â Carson writes: âThe poem is part of an ongoing war with punctuation; we fought to a standstill here.â
HENRI COLE was born in Fukuoka, Japan, in 1956. He has published eight collections of poetry, including Middle Earth. He has received the Kingsley Tufts Award, the Rome Prize, the Berlin Prize, a Guggenheim Fellowship, and the Lenore Marshall Award. His most recent collection is Touch (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011). He teaches at Ohio State University and is poetry editor of The New Republic. He lives in Boston.
Cole writes: âI wrote âSelf-Portrait as Four Styles of Pompeian Wall Paintingâ over a period of a year while living in Rome. I saw many paintings during this time, most of them religious and violent. My goal was not so much to put pictures into words, but to take something of their naked realism and project it into the realm of the abstract, where the lyric poem exists. Yet it was in the secular Pompeian wall paintings (200 BCâ100 AD) that I found the simplest trope for autobiography. At first I saw the four styles as chronological representations of four stages in my life. But as I began to write and scrutinize myself, the four styles became mixed up and seemed to coexist metaphorically in me.
âIn the first style there are vivid stucco reliefs made to look like Greek mortar and drafted blocks; it is more a plastic than a painted style; there is rarely a presence of figures. The second style substituted stucco work with illusionistic representations of architectural elements, colonnades, podia, views of gardens and landscapes. The third style abandoned perspective and flattened out into unified fields with inserted f...