visit the AGNI blog!
Join our conversation in progress, curated by the award-winning story-writer and poet David Ebenbach.
Whatever the circumstances of two people breaking up, however complicated the psychological causes, the effects can be expressed with the finest visceral nuances. Niehaus gives “tips,” and narrates the sensations: “dead cells swirl off your arms, lipids grip the sides of your arteries.” The second-person captures with precision how hard we work to convince ourselves of things.
The peculiar compressions of memory: what details withstand the passing of time, and what they then transmit when we meet them again, our attention moving like a stylus through grooves of vinyl—though in this instance the grooves belong to a scallop shell saved in a box of “beach-combings.”
Mind-bending, really, to consider the scales of mattering, what a universe is spanned between. At one end, a couple’s determined parsing of the implications of a decision to be taken, and at the other, what’s sometimes casually invoked as “the grand scheme of things”—which in Rossi’s slow pulling-back of the lens feels anything but casual.
Some poems are more or less elaborate enactments of feeling, or Yeatsian arguments between self and soul. Certain others, like these five, are swift, decisive flashes of recognition, letter shapes that seem to evaporate at the moment their import registers.
As the sick are taken for walks around the hospital, accumulating laps, sax uses the idea of circuits as occasions for transformation—of images and, adventurously, of registers ranging from grim to lyrical to comic to, finally, what can only be called cosmic.
Voicing the inner negotiation she carries out with her idea of luck, Gewanter’s speaker creates precisely the sensation of options narrowing—how what had been “a room of desires” has shrunk down to the size of a “little coin purse.” The final verb tells us everything.
On the occasion of the publication of Magpiety, comprising her new and selected work, David Rivard offers a long-wanted overview of Melissa Green’s poetic career, tracing the stages of evolution of this singular poet, who, as he writes, “still seems as much of an outlier as she did when her first book, The Squanicook Eclogues, first appeared in 1987.” Rivard reads the work by way of a fellow poet’s magnifications, while at the same time establishing the different contexts that clarify the terms of her singularity.
In these two short poems, Yi Tal (1561-1618), an important promulgator of the T’ang style in Korean poetry, creates what feels like the lost thrill of wandering—evoking with a minimalist precision the lone self moving through landscape, all senses alive and all possibilities open.
Darling locates the eruptions from an unsettling marriage of form and fury—what Nietzsche framed long ago as the Apollonian and Dionysian principles—in the work of Kara Candito. The familiar conception is assessed here in the friction between gender assumptions and metrical effects, how everything comes together in “the moments of rupture that let the light through.”
A review of Don DeLillo’s Zero K by Woody Lewis
Though focused on Don DeLillo’s most recent novel, Zero K—one of the writer’s shorter works—Woody Lewis finds a signifying design, a kind of ratio of inner and outer, that illuminates the larger trajectory of the writer’s work. DeLillo seems to be contracting his surfaces as he deepens his probe of first and last things.
Barbie Chang, the indeterminate possible author stand-in (the indeterminacy itself part of the presentation), hurries us to the heart of a turbulent family drama. Longstanding loyalties and grievances are registered through the child’s dramatic, if not necessarily skewed, understanding of what is happening around her.
Voice initiates, and voice carries through—a melding of cultures and idioms, tradition and novelty, authenticity and the ersatz, all under the strange numerical rubric of 250. And what is 250? Not to know would make you, in the faux-hip figuration of the ’60s, L 7. Straighten the leg of that 7 and you’ll see it means “square.”
A town built on a mine, a present moment literally still warm with history, every least action backlit by this strange living posterity—the larger resonance rings out clearly. As does Stanford’s almost telescopic collapsing of the most indeterminate of questions into a single humble emblematic artifact.
No poet compressed so much so lyrically into such a small space as Mandelstam. Maybe it was because his poems had to circulate on the Stalin express, often transmitted without paper, from one memory bank to another. The effects still dazzle—“as if an airy anthill banquet/sped in high gear in somber green” or “There is a land inside my eyelids”—as these fresh renderings attest.
Freud wrote: “The unconscious of one human being can react upon that of another without passing through the conscious.” An idea worth pondering. Could he have been thinking of a mother and her obstinate child? Certainly Teicher was, and he has found a way to bring the truth of that observation hyper-consciously to life.
Translated from the French by Hoyt Rogers
The great French poet died July 1st at age 93, just as these two selections were being cued up. Reading them now, in the award-winning translations of Hoyt Rogers, one can’t help but feel a spirit going to the most primary places—cellars and attics of ancient-seeming abodes—to reckon with time and the question of what might lie on the other side of various glimpsed thresholds and doors.
Here are two poems full of feathers and suffused with wanting—of forgetfulness, of transformation. Though it is Virgil who is at one point invoked, the spirit of a modern Ovid presides, as Grae declares: “We can leave/ the dress behind that didn’t fit or fly to a new city/ & wear the metropolis as our skin.” Rustlings and night-sounds abound.
Moore is a poet of lyrical longing and the bittersweet consolations of longing addressed. How sweetly memory melts into the continuance of things, gestures what is yet to be. And what power of suggestion is found in “the chalky white roads/that wind through the distance in his [Bellini’s] paintings” . . .
Compressed chains of perception create startling sensory bursts. Lemon moves in with close-focus attention to remind us, lest we forget, that the world in our peripheral awareness is at every moment in a state of heady percolation.
Transformation, transfiguration, maybe even transcendence—Kozma’s declarative odes put the lens tight onto moments of destruction and release. If the apostrophizing O’s seem hyperbolic at first, they steadily earn their keep as the lines advance.
Wharton combines a rag-picker’s eye for anomalous lore from the natural world—from peacocks to penguins to bonobos—with a sly appreciation of the ironies that spark up when inferences to human behaviors are made. Witty, but also sad and affecting at times, these linked-up tales are full of reminders that we have achieved no evolutionary exemption; we ourselves are subject to just such estranged inspections.
A Q&A with Boston Lit Mag Editors in the Roundtable Series
On Monday, April 3rd, at 7:00 p.m., editors from AGNI, Harvard Review, Post Road, Redivider, Salamander, and other local journals will answer questions and talk about their magazines. Moderated by Jenn Scheck-Kahn of Journal of the Month. Porter Square Books, Porter Square Shopping Center, 25 White St., Cambridge. Free and open to the public.
The Launch of AGNI 85:
On Monday, April 24th, 2017, at 7:00 p.m., AGNI launches issue 85 with readings by Wen Stephenson, Kim Adrian, Noah Warren, and a fourth reader TBA, with a musical interlude by a local singer-songwriter. Our release party follows. Boston Playwrights’ Theatre, 949 Commonwealth Ave., Boston. Free and open to the public.
Natasha Trethewey has chosen Cyrus Cassells’s poem “Elegy with a Gold Cradle” (AGNI 83) for The Best American Poetry 2017.
On November 23rd, Poetry Daily featured Steve Kronen’s “Maker of Bowls” from AGNI 84, and on December 7th, Joseph J. Capista’s “The Telescope,” also from the new fall issue.
Stephen Kessler has won the 2016 PEN Center USA Translation Award for Luis Cernuda’s Forbidden Pleasures: New Selected Poems (Black Widow Press). The collection includes “The Family,” first published in AGNI 79.
Congratulations to Peter Balakian, winner of the 2016 Pulitzer Prize in Poetry! The winning collection, Ozone Journal, includes two poems first published in AGNI, “Near the Border” and “Slum Drummers.” Balakian’s work has appeared in the magazine more than a dozen times, starting in 1977.
Heather Abel’s story “Desire and Other Isms” (AGNI 82) is cited as distinguished in The Best American Short Stories 2016.
Shruti Swamy’s story “A Simple Composition” (AGNI 81) has won an O. Henry Prize and will be reprinted in the 2016 anthology The O. Henry Prize Stories.
On May 30th, AGNI author and former U.S. poet laureate Ted Kooser featured Arden Levine’s poem “Offering” (AGNI Online) in his newspaper and online column “American Life in Poetry.”
On May 17th, Three Quarks Daily featured Tyler Mills’s entry at the AGNI blog “Designing Time: The Idea of Plot in the Lyric Essay.” Visit the AGNI blog to read this essay and others.
On May 15th, Poetry Daily featured Kara van de Graaf’s “The Doubles” from AGNI 83.
On the last Thursday in April, the Bay Area bookstore Mrs. Dalloway’s Literary and Garden Arts will feature Edgar Kunz’s “Window Washers” (AGNI 81) in its National Poem in Your Pocket Day celebration. A warm thanks to Mrs. Dalloway’s!
Kirun Kapur’s poem “Girls Girls Girls” (AGNI Online) has been selected for the 2015 Best of the Net anthology!
A new interview by our Sumita Chakraborty at LARB shows sides of AGNI poet Melissa Green that no one else has captured, with a sound and shape rare for author interviews. Five stars!
On November 26th, 2015, Poetry Daily will feature Kathleen Graber’s “New Year” from AGNI 82.
Megan Mayhew Bergman’s story “Romaine Remains” (AGNI 79) is cited as distinguished (we knew that!) in The Best American Short Stories 2015. In The Best American Essays 2015, K. E. Duffin’s “Castle Hill” (AGNI 80) and Carol Ann Davis’s “On Practice, School Buses, Hummingbirds, Rumi, and Being Led” (AGNI 79) are cited as notable (they’re distinguished too, not to mention anguished).
On September 1st, 2015, David Ebenbach became the founder, curator, and primum mobile of the AGNI blog. Visit it, write for it, and add your comments. The conversation is just beginning.