In Worcester, Massachusetts, I went with Aunt Consuelo to keep her dentist's appointment and sat and waited for her in the dentist's waiting room. It was winter. It got dark early. The waiting room was full of grown-up people, arctics and overcoats, lamps and magazines. My aunt was inside what seemed like a long
In March 2015, Patrick Donnelly was named the seventh poet laureate of Northampton, Massachusetts. Donnelly, who is a poet, translator, editor, and teacher, is also director of The Frost Place’s Poetry Seminar. He is the author of Nocturnes of the Brothel of Ruin (Four Way Books, 2012) and The Charge (Ausable Press, 2003). He will serve a two-year term.
In March 2015, Jan Schreiber was named the second poet laureate of Brookline, Massachusetts, taking over for Judith Steinbergh. He will serve a two-year term.
recent & featured listings
|Literary Organization||Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center||Massachusetts|
|Literary Organization||The Frost Foundation||Massachusetts|
|Literary Organization||PEN New England||Massachusetts|
|Literary Organization||Worcester County Poetry Association||Massachusetts|
|Literary Organization||Concord Poetry Center||Massachusetts|
|Literary Organization||Grub Street, Inc.||Massachusetts|
|Poetry-Friendly Bookstore||The Book Shop of Beverly Farms||Massachusetts|
|Poetry-Friendly Bookstore||The Broadside Bookshop||Massachusetts|
|Poetry-Friendly Bookstore||Brookline Booksmith||Massachusetts|
|Poetry-Friendly Bookstore||Bunch of Grapes Bookstore||Massachusetts|
I've been meaning to tell you how the sky is pink here sometimes like the roof of a mouth that's about to chomp down on the crooked steel teeth of the city, I remember the desperate things we did and that I stumble down sidewalks listening to the buzz of street lamps at dusk and the
The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript Sway in the wind like a field of ripe corn. When evening quickens faintly in the street, Wakening the appetites of life in some And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript, I mount the steps and ring the bell, turning Wearily, as one