This post was written by guest blogger Carrie Frye.
Sarabande Books has put out a chapbook of the Louise Gluck poem “October.” The poem appeared maybe a year and a half ago in the New Yorker, in an issue I accidentally tossed in a recycling binge. It’s an amazing poem — electrifying, really. So it’s great to be able to lay hands on a copy.
The chapbook contains only the one poem, which is nice as it keeps the reader from glutting herself — it’s like being allowed to look at only one painting in a museum.
As the title suggests, the poem’s preoccupations are metaphysically autumnal. Here’s a piece from section III:
Winter was over. In the thawed dirt,
bits of green were showing.Come to me, said the world. I was standing
in my wool coat at a kind of bright portal
I can finally say
long ago; it gives me considerable pleasure. Beautythe healer, the teacher
death cannot harm me
more than you have harmed me,
my beloved life.
Last week, Rake’s Progress linked to this Gluck site. I found this article part. interesting, though I must confess that I can’t remember anyone asking Billy Collins about his bulimia or Robert Pinsky about his habit of cutting himself.