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Part 4 Contributors

 

Tony Barnstone
Willis Barnstone
Ellen Bass
Christopher Buckley
Neeli Cherkovski
Boris Dralyuk
Alicia Elkort
Mary Fitzpatrick
Michael C. Ford
Kate Gale
Frank X. Gaspar
Dana Gioia
Shotsie Gorman
S.A. Griffin
Donna Hilbert
Brenda Hillman
Glenna Luschei
Phoebe MacAdams
devorah major
Clive Matson
K. Silem Mohammad
Rusty Morrison
Harry Northup
Holly Prado Northup - In Memoriam
Cathie Sandstrom
Shelley Scott - In Memoriam
Daniel Shapiro
Mike Sonksen
Pam Ward
Sholeh Wolpe
Gary Young
Mariano Zaro


Part 1 Contributors

Rae Armantrout
Bart Edelman
David Garyan
Suzanne Lummis
Glenna Luschei
Bill Mohr
D. A. Powell
Amy Uyematsu
Paul Vangelisti
Charles Harper Webb
Bruce Willard
Gail Wronsky

Part 2 Contributors

Elena Karina Byrne
liz gonzález
Grant Hier
Lois P. Jones
Ron Koertge
Glenna Luschei
Rooja Mohassessy
Susan Rogers
Patty Seyburn
Maw Shein Win
Kim Shuck
Lynne Thompson
Carine Topal
Cecilia Woloch

Part 3 Contributors

Michelle Bitting
Laurel Ann Bogen
Laure-Anne Bosselaar
Lucille Lang Day
Corrinne Clegg Hales
Marsha De La O
Charles Jensen
Eloise Klein Healy
Glenna Luschei
Clint Margrave
Henry Morro
Alexis Rhone Fancher
Phil Taggart
David L. Ulin
Jonathan Yungkans
Lorene Zarou-Zouzounis


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Thomas Bartscherer
Susan Bassnett
Gillian Beer
David Bellos
Richard Berengarten
Charles Bernstein
Sujata Bhatt
Mario Biagioli
Jean Boase-Beier
Elleke Boehmer
Eavan Boland
Stephen Booth
Alain de Botton
Carmen Boullossa
Rachel Bowlby
Svetlana Boym
Peter Brooks
Marina Brownlee
Roberto Brodsky
Carmen Bugan
Jenni Calder
Stanley Cavell
Sampurna Chattarji
Sarah Churchwell
Hollis Clayson
Sally Cline
Marcelo Cohen
Kristina Cordero
Drucilla Cornell
Junot Díaz
André Dombrowski
Denis Donoghue
Ariel Dorfman
Rita Dove
Denise Duhamel
Klaus Ebner
Robert Elsie
Stefano Evangelista
Orlando Figes
Tibor Fischer
Shelley Fisher Fishkin
Peter France
Nancy Fraser
Maureen Freely
Michael Fried
Marjorie Garber
Anne Garréta
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Lydia Goehr
Vasco Graça Moura
A. C. Grayling
Stephen Greenblatt
Lavinia Greenlaw
Lawrence Grossberg
Edith Grossman
Elizabeth Grosz
Boris Groys
David Harsent
Benjamin Harshav
Geoffrey Hartman
François Hartog
Siobhan Harvey
Molly Haskell
Selina Hastings
Valerie Henitiuk
Kathryn Hughes
Aamer Hussein
Djelal Kadir
Kapka Kassabova
John Kelly
Martin Kern
Mimi Khalvati
Joseph Koerner
Annette Kolodny
Julia Kristeva
George Landow
Chang-Rae Lee
Mabel Lee
Linda Leith
Suzanne Jill Levine
Lydia Liu
Margot Livesey
Julia Lovell
Thomas Luschei
Laurie Maguire
Willy Maley
Alberto Manguel
Ben Marcus
Paul Mariani
Marina Mayoral
Richard McCabe
Campbell McGrath
Jamie McKendrick
Edie Meidav
Jack Miles
Toril Moi
Susana Moore
Laura Mulvey
Azar Nafisi
Paschalis Nikolaou
Martha Nussbaum
Tim Parks
Molly Peacock
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Elizabeth Prettejohn
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Kate Pullinger
Paula Rabinowitz
Rajeswari Sunder Rajan
James Richardson
François Rigolot
Geoffrey Robertson
Ritchie Robertson
Avital Ronell
Élisabeth Roudinesco
Carla Sassi
Michael Scammell
Celeste Schenck
Sudeep Sen
Hadaa Sendoo
Miranda Seymour
Daniel Shapiro
Mimi Sheller
Elaine Showalter
Penelope Shuttle
Werner Sollors
Frances Spalding
Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak
Julian Stallabrass
Susan Stewart
Rebecca Stott
Mark Strand
Kathryn Sutherland
Rebecca Swift
Susan Tiberghien
John Whittier Treat
David Treuer
David Trinidad
Marjorie Trusted
Lidia Vianu
Victor Vitanza
Marina Warner
David Wellbery
Edwin Williamson
Michael Wood
Theodore Zeldin

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Assistant Editor: Ana de Biase
Assistant Editor: Conor Bracken
Assistant Editor: Eugenio Conchez
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Assistant Editor: Krista Oehlke
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Assistant Editor: Emily Starks
Assistant Editor: Robert Toperter
Assistant Editor: Laurence Webb
Art Consultant: Verónica Barbatano
Art Consultant: Angie Roytgolz

 
Click to enlarge picture Mary Fitzpatrick
Mary Fitzpatrick
Californian Poets Part 4: Five Poems
by
Mary Fitzpatrick


 

 



Pandemic

As if the star clusters of the Milky Way
were each a nation on the night sky’s map
serenely blinking, touching gleam to gleam
until a few knots turn angry red
then yellow    or sputter black
and dying pull
thousands of memories
into their holes    and     like the rest of us    stretch
new arms to keep     touching for only
in constellations
do stars form stories
stories of how they belong.

        **    **    **    **

How numerous the world the human
species how ripe
for annihilation we are: masked,
pocked, weaponed—at last
the zombie apocalypse: ‘going viral.’
Chasing news and rumors, deep
shock of behavioral change. A week’s
cascade—one e-mail
then the next—flattening Spring’s fat
agenda: all those celebrations planned.

        **    **    **    **

This loss and that sacrifice, small when stacked
against the ER’s blue blizzard of gloves and gowns,
gurneys beeping into a morgue. I embrace
renunciation, this purple Lent of solitude,
abhor the squawking crow—
its black untethered feathers falling.

        **    **    **    **

One month in, I pass the research institute’s
astrophysics video screen, where Hubble’s
remote galaxies once spun—
        those pulsing clustered worlds being born—
and I see the screen is white.
                                        Blank.
                                                It’s just me—
                                a little bleak—
        and this world,
this here, this now.



How the Doctors Prepare

One must stay motivated                                or slip. A slip
could be fatal. One must                                 stay motivated: who
do you love could die?                                    Who, if you die, would
mourn? Change or die —                                 this anthem of change
managers—and here                                      we are. Stop celebrating
gathering shopping                                         learning—our hunger
for the world is post-                                      poned. Who is tempted? Who
squanders caution or love?                             In them we find our danger.
This Lent, we are Renunciates.                        We have given up much.
It is a kind of prayer.                                     We offer it for one another.



Orpheus

                            “The Underworld is made of men’s memories and the ruins of their habits.”
                                                                                        — Jean Cocteau


When Death loves you, there is nothing
more to want.
                      Deft, she pulls on her black
gloves and motions you: attend. Speech
is useless, but song—song….
                                 Whose
dream are you? Into whose vision
do you descend? Singing in your slop and mire…

Sound bells
                the canvas
                      of your little boat
and you race along
          a glassy face.
                    When singing stops
the water blackens. There
                                        adrift with you,
Death—
                 amorous—
her fingers
                 bid you pluck
each stanza, each
                           bleating quatrain.



Good Friday

What had been promised?
           That the light would return
                      The land blush green
                                 The antibiotics restore
The fevered amnesiac
           Shivering in her pool of sweat
                      Now gasping
                                 For more water
What had been promised?
           A reliable test for the invisible
                      Contagion, a world
                                 Without masks, the kind
Of place we might walk
           Arm in arm, even
                      Embrace when
                                 Meeting the dead.



What to Do From Confinement

                      This Spring’s a wet catalogue of flowers
                                 addendum of birds, a lovely time
                                            to have to stay home.


Bewick’s wren          gnatcatcher        bushtit
I see your eyes        watching glass-   black
from the leaf litter    shadow ranch
from under the smoky sage stalks
                                                       smoky
as in smell               earth green
gone silver               how you hide
goldfinch                 towhee
                                                       heart
of one who waits      and learns
that she must wait   again                 so near
to crescendo            the final act
chord, world            interrupted         in fact
no cymbals clash
                                                       I am in
suspended time       everything’s        thicker
I feel selfish            I languish            these mockingbirds
repeat                    a subtle chase
                                                       who
are they fooling?                               I want
another nest in the neighborhood
                                                       warbler
vireo                      flycatcher            I wish I could