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
In the fall of 2014, Danielle Legros Georges was chosen as the second poet laureate of Boston, Massachusetts. The author of The Dear Remote Nearness of You (Barrow Street Press, 2016) and Maroon (Curbstone Books, 2001), she is a professor at Lesley University.
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.
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|Festival||Massachusetts Poetry Festival||Massachusetts|
|Writing Program||The Solstice MFA in Creative Writing||Massachusetts|
|Writing Program||University of Massachusetts: Amherst||Massachusetts|
|Writing Program||University of Massachusetts: Boston||Massachusetts|
|Writing Program||Boston University||Massachusetts|
|Writing Program||Emerson College||Massachusetts|
|Landmark||Emily Dickinson’s Home||Massachusetts|
|Landmark||The Longfellow House||Massachusetts|
|Landmark||Stanley Kunitz’s Home||Massachusetts|
|Landmark||The George Edward Woodberry Poetry Room||Massachusetts|
If the water, everywhere, and if she
is. If ghosts, like water, like if all
rivers and oceans and rains are one
ghost, surrounding and throughout.
If she is, like if the lakes and bays
of Seattle define Seattle, if the ices
Of Mars and Massachusetts
"Relinquunt Omnia Servare Rem Publicam."
The old South Boston Aquarium stands in a Sahara of snow now. Its broken windows are boarded. The bronze weathervane cod has lost half its scales. The airy tanks are dry. Once my nose crawled like a snail on the glass; my hand tingled to burst the bubbles