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About this poet

Simone Muench was raised in Louisiana and Arkansas, and holds a PhD from the University of Illinois at Chicago. She is the author of six full-length collections, including Lampblack & Ash (Sarabande, 2005), winner of the Kathryn A. Morton Prize for Poetry, and Suture (Black Lawrence Press, 2017), co-written with poet Dean Rader

Muench is the recipient of a 2013 NEA Fellowship for poetry, two Illinois Arts Council fellowships, the 49th Parallel Award for Poetry, and others. In 2014, she recieved the Meier Charitable Foundation for the Arts Achievement Award.

Muench is the Writing Program Diector at Lewis University, where she teaches English, Creative Writing, and Film Studies. She is the chief faculty advisor for Jet Fuel Review, and a senior poetry editor for Tupelo Quarterly. She lives in Chicago, Illinois. 


Selected Bibliography

Wolf Centos (Sarabande, 2014)
Orange Crush (Sarabande, 2010
Lampblack & Ash (Sarabande, 2005
The Air Lost in Breathing (Helicon Nine, 2000)

Wolf Cento

Very quick. Very intense, like a wolf
at a live heart, the sun breaks down.
What is important is to avoid
the time allotted for disavowels
as the livid wound
leaves a trace      leaves an abscess
takes its contraction for those clouds
that dip thunder & vanish
like rose leaves in closed jars.
Age approaches, slowly. But it cannot
crystal bone into thin air.
The small hours open their wounds for me.
This is a woman's confession:
I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me.



Sources: [Anne Sexton, Dylan Thomas, Larry Levis, Ingeborg Bachmann, Octavio Paz, Henri Michaux, Agnes Nemes Nagy, Joyce Mansour, William Burroughs, Meret Oppenheim, Mary Low, Adrienne Rich, Carl Sandburg]

Copyright © 2011 by Simone Muench. Used with permission of the author.

Copyright © 2011 by Simone Muench. Used with permission of the author.

Simone Muench

Simone Muench is the author of six collections of poetry, including Wolf Centos (Sarabande, 2014). She is a senior poetry editor for Tupelo Quarterly, and lives in Chicago.

by this poet

poem

1:
Young women carrying baskets of oranges used to stand near the stage in London theatres and sell oranges at sixpence apiece and themselves for little more

between dresses we came.
between naked and nothing
we slipped into the delirious
coils of perfected ears, 

       pear dust on our skin