Posts, toasts, & roasts
official t4d blog
Love, Legacy, & Ecological Disaster: A Look at Jessica Gigot’s “To the Class of 2033”
“I tried to love the world a whole fucking lot,” Jessica Gigot writes in “To the Class of 2033.” I honestly don’t know if I have.
Forward, Back, Nothing: A Look at Stacy Boe Miller’s “Uptown Girl”
Miller understands nostalgia acts as a space between “Uptown Girl” and “a woman in her truck,” and being caught as either can lead to a kind of death.
Dodging Cliché in Shared Experience: A Look at Stacy Boe Miller’s “Quarantine”
Miller’s poem is not a description of quarantine, but an account of a consciousness under quarantine.
Be Bold With Your Thoughts: On Criticizing Your Darlings
Keep reading, writing, and don't be afraid to be bold with your thoughts.
Gospels of Snow: A Look at Bill Neumire’s “When I was alone,”
Each line feels so complete unto itself, and paradoxically, when you pull back and look at the whole, the lines are dependent on each other. The effect is that of a literary photomosaic.
Embodied Ekphrasis: A Look at “Postural Tachycardia Syndrome” by Ronnie K. Stephens
The poem stages a powerful convergence of visual and bodily suffering, a brilliant collaboration of crafts, as it dissolves the boundary between image and language until poem and artwork somehow manage to stand alone and blend simultaneously.
Incantation VS Repetition: A Look at “Reclaiming the Crone” by Elizabeth Rosell
While some poets dull the effectiveness of a word or phrase with each use, Rosell’s repetitions are a whetstone for words, sharpening their meaning and creating something dangerous, strange, and “so much more” than a poetic trick.
Circling the Ordinary: A Look at “How Could I Have Known” by Clint Margrave
The genius of “How Could I Have Known” works by subtraction. Its power lies not in accumulating performative metaphors, but in the quiet space it creates for shared attention between poet and reader.
A Bent Bildungsroman: A Look at Brandon Shane’s “What Was Wrong With me”
Shane’s poem, at its heart, is a bildungsroman, albeit a slightly bent one. - Michael Schmeltzer
Stepping Into Another Poet’s Lines: A look at S. Salazar’s “3 Golden Shovels”
Every borrowed word in a golden shovel isn’t just quoted text; it becomes a pivot point in syntax and imagery. Salazar’s 3 Golden Shovels show how the form can be both homage and invention - Kate Hanson Foster
Unfiltered Genius: A Look at “Fame Is a Fickle Friend” by Martha Silano
Meeting Martha was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. I learned so much from her work—and continue to be inspired by a voice and craft that stayed razor-sharp, right through her final poem. - Kate Hanson Foster — Martha’s work is confident, jovial, and like all the extroverts I’ve loved in my life, invites you along for adventures despite your introverted ways. - Michael Schmeltzer
The Unmoored Dagger: A look at “on a late drive home…” by Bill Neumire
Notice how Neumire juxtaposes the “future” with “right here, right now”? Brilliant isn’t it? Time is a character in all our lives but not every poem treats it like so. Neumire understands that (as a parent) time is another partner. The various tenses in the piece makes us fully aware of this.
Graveyard of Intentions: A Look at Ronnie K. Stephens’ Poem, “Derelict”
When I look out the window at my less-than-perfect garden, I know the weeds are there because I let them grow—and in that way, they’re an extension of my own neglect. In “Derelict”, the speaker doesn’t just observe the weeds, they are the weeds—life that doesn’t die easily, life that persists even if unwanted.
Our Bodies as a Sight of Revelation: a Look at Stacy Boe Miller’s “I Saw a Picture of My Legs”
Stacy Boe Miller’s poem, “I saw a Picture of My Legs” not only potentially uncorks women’s feelings about their legs, but begins with a self-asserting bang: “They were holding up a building.”
Aspirational Boredom: A Look at “The INtrovert and the nectarine” by Anna Joyce
Joyce’s poem is the perfect pause, an escape for the introvert and the overwhelmed. “Is there anything better than hiding / in the kitchen” the poem begins…