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poet

Dorothea Lasky

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Dorothea Lasky
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Born on March 27, 1978, in St. Louis, Missouri, Dorothea Lasky received her BA from Washington University. She continued her studies at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, where she received her MFA. She has also earned a masters degree in arts and education from Harvard University and a PhD in creativity and education from the University of Pennsylvania.

Lasky is the author of five books of poetry: Milk (Wave Books, 2018); Rome (Liveright, 2014); Thunderbird (Wave Books, 2012); Black Life (Wave Books, 2010); and AWE (Wave Books, 2007). She has also authored numerous chapbooks and pamphlets, including The Blue Teratorn (YesYes Books, 2012); Matter: A Picturebook (Argos Books, 2010); Poetry is Not a Project (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2010); and Art (H_NGM_N Books, 2005). She coedited the book Open the Door: How to Excite Young People About Poetry (McSweeney’s, 2013).

"In lines that remind me of the way William Carlos Williams insisted that only the imagination gives us access to reality,” poet Julia Bloch writes, “Lasky's poems evoke a practice of living, as bloody and awful and lovely as living can ever be."

In 2013, Lasky was named a Bagley Wright Lecturer at Harvard University. She currently lives in New York City, where she is an assistant professor of poetry at Columbia University’s School of the Arts.

 


Bibliography

Poetry

Milk (Wave Books, 2018)
Rome (Liveright, 2014)
Thunderbird (Wave Books, 2012)
Black Life (Wave Books, 2010)
AWE (Wave Books, 2007)

 

by this poet

poem
They are not real
She said from the cellar
And slowly unveiled
The flat scope
Lizards and their eggs
That I hang around the neck
You will break your legs
He warned me
And I believed him
Ruby edgings around
The mushroom-colored stones
And the man who told me
The women
Are like pictures in a book
They are not real
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poem

I would tell her
Except she wouldn't care
I'd write him
Except he'd never write me back
There is a rat they left hanging
I'd save it
Except it's dead
What is the force that swirls me
I asked of the wind
There was no reply
It was beyond me
And I was floating in

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poem

 

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