poem index

poet

Jennifer Grotz

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Jennifer Grotz

Jennifer Grotz was born in Canyon, Texas, in 1971. She received a BA from Tulane University in 1993, an MFA from Indiana University in 1996, and a PhD from the University of Houston in 2005.

She is the author of Window Left Open (Graywolf Press, 2016); The Needle (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2011), named the 2012 Best Book of Poetry by the Texas Institute of Letters; and Cusp (Mariner Books, 2003), winner of the Katherine Bakeless Nason Poetry Prize. She is also the translator of Psalms of All My Days (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2015) by Patrice de La Tour du Pin.

Henri Cole writes, “I admire the solemn precision of her poems. Her mind thinking—about life and art, about landscape and love, about loneliness and loss—illuminates everything it touches.”

Grotz is the recipient of numerous honors and awards, including the Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers’ Award and a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts. She currently serves as the assistant director of the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conferences, and she teaches at the University of Rochester and Warren Wilson College. She lives in Rochester, New York.


Selected Bibliography

Window Left Open (Graywolf Press, 2016)
The Needle (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2011)
Cusp (Mariner Books, 2003)

by this poet

poem

The lettering on the shop window in which
you catch a glimpse of yourself is in Polish.

Behind you a man quickly walks by, nearly shouting
into his cell phone. Then a woman

at a dreamier pace, carrying a just-bought bouquet
upside-down. All on a street where pickpockets abound

along

2
poem
        "When your eyes have done their part, 
        Thought must length it in the heart."
           —Samuel Daniel

 
. . . Thought lengths it, pulls 
an invisible world through 
a needle's eye 
one detail at a time,

beginning with 
the glint of blond down 
on his knuckle as he
poem

Driving alone at night, the world’s pitch, black velvet 
stapled occasionally by red tail lights
on the opposite highway but otherwise mild 
panic when the eyes’ habitual check 
produces nothing at all in the rearview mirror,
a black blank, now nothing exists 
but the dotted