poem index

poet

Jason Shinder

Jason Shinder

Jason Shinder was born in Brooklyn, NY in 1955. He was the founder and director of the YMCA National Writer's Voice, as well as the director of Sundance Institute's Writing Program. He taught in the graduate writing programs at Bennington College and the New School University.

He is the author of Among Women (Graywolf Press, 2001), Every Room We Ever Slept In (1993), a NY Public Library Notable Book, and the chapbook Uncertain Hours.

About his second book, Among Women, Carol Muske-Dukes wrote: "I don't know of any male poet who approximates the honest terror and desire, the sense of shock that runs through these poems. They are so fixed in a merciless surgical light and yet they're so tender and alive with emotion."

Shinder is also the editor of many anthologies, most recently: The Poem That Changed America: "Howl" Fifty Years Later (2006) and The Poem I Turn To: Actors and Directors Present Poetry That Inspires Them (2008).

His awards and fellowships include serving as Poet Laureate of Provincetown, MA, and a 2007 Literature Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts. He divided his time between Provincetown and New York City. Shinder died in April 2008.

by this poet

poem
When I talk to my friends I pretend I am standing on the wings 

of a flying plane. I cannot be trusted to tell them how I am. 
Or if I am falling to earth weighing less 

than a dozen roses. Sometimes I dream they have broken up 

with their lovers and are carrying food to my house. 
When I open the mailbox I
poem
Irene loves a man
      who is afraid of sex-- 
            she's attended

to everything,
      said it was okay,
            held me until I slept.

She says, Why don't you just
      not think about it?
            But I want to know

every sensation,
      nothing untouched,
            though I pull
poem
My friend says she is like an empty drawer 

being pulled out of the earth. 
I am the long neck of the giraffe coming down 

to see what she doesn't have. 

What holds us chained to the same cold river, 
where we are surprised by the circles 

we make in the ice? When we talk about the past

it is like pushing