Persimmon

This morning I've been thinking that persimmons are the late-to-come-out queer poet elders of fruits. People either love them or are unaware of them, they are very messy/ tender, and they are difficult to market as commodities, as they are most delicious after their expiration dates, when they can only be sold at a steep … Continue reading Persimmon →

Protected: Grief We Share

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missing

A couple of weeks ago I attended a seminar about "missing voices" of women in Irish poetry. Between academics who held their subjects at an impassioned, scholarly distance, to writers who presented movingly on now dead friends, and, finally, others doing their best to fit within the shapes academia allows both for researchers and subjects, … Continue reading missing →