“Can You Understand?” by Reneissance, a live, in studio version of a song I linked to in issue #10 of my newsletter, is from this album:

My twelfth grade teacher was a devout Catholic named Mr. Giglio. When I asked him if he would read some of the poems I’d been writing, he said yes. I only remember one of the poems I gave him, though, In rhymed couplets, of which I was quite proud, it imagined a post-nuclear-holocaust dystopian future and ended by passing judgment on God for having let such a thing happen.Mr. Giglio’s response was to tell me, “I think you should stop writing poems and focus on writing critical essays like what we’re doing in class. That’s what you’re good at.” When I asked him to explain why, he wouldn’t tell me. “I’ve said what I have to say” was as much as I got out of him, and that’s when I realized two things. First, his response had nothing to do with the quality of my writing; what I had written about had offended his religious sensibilities; and, second, that if my poem had disturbed him deeply enough that he felt it necessary talk me out of writing more, then I must be doing something right.

Read the entire issue here.

By Eugène Delacroix, circa 1828.

From #25 of my newsletter “Four by Four: Four Things To Read, Four Things to See, Four Things to Listen to, and Four Things About Me.”

From #28 of my newsletter Four by Four: Four Things To Read, Four Things To See, Four Things To Listen To, and Four Things About Me:

I don’t know how old I was when George, the man who was my stepfather for a few years, took my brother and me to the Palisades Amusement Park, but one memory of that trip is permanently etched into my memory: trying to find my way through the Crazy Crystals Glass House, maze of mirrors. My brother found his way pretty quickly, but I kept banging my head into dead ends, so much so that I think I actually raised a small bump on my forehead. At one point, I thought I had succeeded because I walked back out into the park, but it turned out that I’d found my way back to the entrance. I didn’t want to go back in, but George told me I had to get through the right way, just like my brother, so I went back in and kept hitting my head, until the park attendant came in and led me out. I think I might have been crying. I was mortified, of course, especially because my little brother had outdone me, and George did not let me off the hook. He teased me about this for the rest of the day.

Pre-COVID memories.

I am thrilled that this interview is up at Green Linden Press. Catherine Fletcher asks really good questions about my book, T’shuvah, about my writing process, translation, about poetry-as-healing/therapy. The questions made me think, which is why I had such a good time answering them.

from “The Necessity to Speak,” by Sam Hamill

“The true poet gives up the self. The I of my poem is not me. It is the first person impersonal, it is permission for you to enter the experience which we name Poem."

—Sam Hamill, “The Necessity to Speak” in A Poet’s Work

Dealing with health insurance is a healthy pain in the ass! And I have, truly, a good employer-provided plan.

Teaching starts tomorrow. Two syllabi down, one to go. I wish I were more excited.

Four by Four is a curated list of four articles, four images, for pieces of music, and four things about me—lessons learned, books read, random fact…that sort of stuff. Right now subscriptions are free. Number 11 is live. I hope you’ll check it out.

This song, music and lyrics by the award winning composer David First with vocals by Yvette Massoudi, speaks to the desire for peace in Israel/Palestine without choosing a side.

The final installment of my series Israel and Palestine: Whose Side Are You On? is now live on Subtack.

“Subtext,” the second part of my series, Palestine and Israel: Whose Side Are You On?, is live on Substack.

I’ve written a three part series called “Israel and Palestine: Whose Side Are You On?” “Part 1: Context” posted today. Parts two and three will follow tomorrow and the day after. Because the question is not always as simple as one might think.

I’ve decided on two notebook projects for 2024. First, I bought a 5 year memory book from Leuchtturm1917, and I am looking forward to seeing if I have the discipline to keep it until 2028. Second, I bought Moleskin, one-page-per-day 2024 planner. I am going to try to repeat the daily writing practice that I did in 2020. I got so much good material out of that year that I want to see if I can repeat it.

My mother runs a dog rescue in New Jersey. These are pictures I’ve taken of her dogs over the years. I confess I don’t remember their names, but I do like the pictures.

I put this out every two weeks: A curated list of articles, images, music, and some stuff about myself. I hope you’ll check it out:

From my wedding thirty years ago. My wife had no idea what to expect.

This is quite an honor. It’s a post from Asymptote that one of the poems by Salvador Espriu that Sonia Alland and I translated was the fourth most popular piece of the year.

I cried my last one for now.

I had the deep pleasure of being interviewed about T’shuvah, my new book of poems, by Jaime Alejandro for his Arts Calling podcast. He asks really good questions. We talked about poetry and spirituality, about what it means to see yourself as part of a literary tradition, about the process of publishing, and more.