Another captivating voice, I like — strike that — love, the narrative drive of her poetry: Amy Dryansky: No Birds Were Harmed in the Making of this Poem Language is fossil poetry, Emerson said, in reference to I know not what, possibly an aster in stony clay, a theory of light. Something that finds its way out. The interviewer asked if I’d ever abandoned a creative project, and if so, did I come back to it? Yes, I have, yes, […]

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