Poetry Super Highway

Poetry Super Highway

January 28-February 3, 2013: Bruce Taylor and Olivia Lansdale

Bruce Taylor and Liv Lansdale


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Bruce Taylor
taylorb@uwec.edu

Bio (auto)

Bruce Taylor, Professor Emeritus, University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, is the author of seven collections of poetry, and editor of eight anthologies including Wisconsin Poetry, and, with Patti See, Higher Learning: Reading and Writing about College. His poetry and translations have appeared in such places as Able Muse, The Chicago Review, The Columbia Review, The Cortland Review, The Formalist, The Nation, The New York Quarterly, Poetry, Rattle, Rosebud and Writer’s Almanac. He has won awards and fellowships from the Wisconsin Arts Board, Fulbright-Hayes, the National Endowment for the Arts, the National Endowment for the Humanities, the Council of Wisconsin Writers, and the Bush Artist Foundation. He lives in Lake Hallie, Wisconsin with his wife, the writer Patti See.

Visit Bruce on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Bruce Taylor and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Yesterday’s Poem

regrets everything,
is strangled by circumstance,
mourning and wishing
and wondering why.

I used to love yesterday’s
poem, all echo and hindsight
trailing the little that was
left of not that long ago,

a record of the gone beyond
all I thought said and done,
it seemed to be everything
there was to say, at the time.

For instance this cup
of half cold coffee half full
and the shadow of that birch
tossed upon another page

the waves of course
and if not that gull
another hovering
just hovering.


From The Longest You’ve Lived Anywhere:
Poems New and Selected 2013 – Upriver Press

Liv Lansdale
cyanogen_rqf@hotmail.com

Bio (auto)

Liv Lansdale is twenty and grew up in Towson, Maryland where she currently lives. She has edited a few literary magazines, interned at Baltimore’s City Lit Press, and is a double major (creative writing and sustainable development) at Columbia University. She once caught a shark with her bare hands.

The following work is Copyright © 2013, and owned by Liv Lansdale and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Resurrection of Shells

Sorry the box wouldn’t close. I would have liked it to, would
have liked it to contain our pot of ink & the verb nager
& your reasons for leaving me out of your will again,
honestly, did you scoop the wrong papers off the floor?

At least you made amends with all the folks in the machine,
I mean the old broken ones, breathing their assertion on
on both sides of the aisle
                                     before interrupting our vacation
again. You know, we’re not automata, no matter how much
brow liner we use. Four concave streaks in our foreheads
suggest otherwise but that’s marriage for you & unlike worry
lines they are deliberate,

                                  spectacularly beautiful. They never

heal. Oh, & the brown, brown ink, still brewing, coffee-like,

knows it is a gift intended to warm our house, a trinket
for my father’s daughter, that clanging panache doll
here to remember the small violence that is my trust in
you. Good evening. I had the power, once, to pioneer us.
I am not a sideshow. I can almost hear the ocean from here.

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