Some video games can evoke complex emotions, activate a voice, and cultivate a political imagination—like the best poetry.
Throughout his life, poet Muin Bseiso narrated the history of Palestinian struggle and criticized Western portrayals of Gaza. Today, Bseiso’s son dodges Israeli bombs to preserve his archives.
If George Eliot was interested in religious coexistence, she was also interested in unbelief.
Clark’s poetry collection questions how those excluded from spoken conversation devise new avenues for transmission.
“I hope people will see the heartbreak of a little kid having to grow up and say goodbye to his childhood in order to survive.”
The best poets tend to trouble conventions, including those they find necessary.
"One of the things that is interesting about Keats' letters to Fanny Brawne is that you can't infer a damn thing that’s happened between them."
How to interpret Coleridge’s voluminous patchwork of triumphs, fragments, stolen snippets, and unrealized plans? Does any larger pattern emerge?
Even the most successful authors—like Phillis Wheatley and W. E. B. Du Bois—fail to publish all they’d like. What can that reveal about literature?
Three new poetry collections depart on a cosmic journey to reckon with ecology and our relations to a suffering earth.
Does loving a work of literature mean seizing it? How should critics feel about their feelings toward a text?
Maria Dahvana Headley’s translation of “Beowulf” forces us to think about what we need to be true about the past, and our access to it.
“We didn’t think of ourselves as hippies, we thought of ourselves as serious people with politics.”
“We have to witness everything… You don't do it by yourself. That mode of looking is not like any individual feat; it is a feat of joining.”
A new play centers on a Black woman who stops “accommodating white people” and, instead, asks them “about their love affair with my death.”
Amid this turbulent present, can poetry call attention to creative forms of survival and persistence, human and nonhuman?
“I research specific instances of Black artists who strip themselves out of mythologized dressings around race, sexuality, and gender.”
Within western poetry, women writers of color—and their lived experiences—are not nearly as recognized nor represented as their white peers.
Annotations isn’t a book you read for the plot. It’s more of a “Notes toward...” that remains just that: always towards, never quite arriving.
“There is nothing supreme about being white.”