Note: This poem has been temporarily hidden by the author.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
Note: This poem has been temporarily hidden by the author.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.
Poet Luisa A. Igloria (Poetry Foundation web page, author webpage ) was recently appointed Poet Laureate of the Commonwealth of Virginia (2020-2022). She is Co-Winner of the 2019 Crab Orchard Open Competition in Poetry for Maps for Migrants and Ghosts (Southern Illinois University Press, September 2020). She is the winner of the 2015 Resurgence Prize (UK), the world’s first major award for ecopoetry, selected by former UK poet laureate Sir Andrew Motion, Alice Oswald, and Jo Shapcott. She is the author of What is Left of Wings, I Ask (2018 Center for the Book Arts Letterpress Chapbook Prize, selected by former US Poet Laureate Natasha Trethewey); Bright as Mirrors Left in the Grass (Kudzu House Press eChapbook selection for Spring 2015), Ode to the Heart Smaller than a Pencil Eraser (Utah State University Press, 2014 May Swenson Prize), Night Willow (Phoenicia Publishing, 2014), The Saints of Streets (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2013), Juan Luna’s Revolver (2009 Ernest Sandeen Prize, University of Notre Dame Press), and nine other books. She is a member of the core faculty of the MFA Creative Writing Program at Old Dominion University which she directed from 2009-2015; she also teaches classes at The Muse Writers’ Center in Norfolk. In 2018, she was the inaugural Glasgow Distinguished Writer in Residence at Washington and Lee University. When she isn’t writing, reading, or teaching, she cooks with her family, knits, hand-binds books, and listens to tango music.
And if that quasar ever needed to be put into perspective, there’s your paternal grandmother. Whew.
Peter: I have *lots* of stories like that!
I am ready to read more, please. :-)
(Note: this is officially Luisa’s Morning Porch response for today, written yesterday in anticipation of an Irene-caused internet blackout, which has in fact happened. Our lastest news, as of last night on Facebook, is that the Igloria residence just barely escaped flooding at high tide, and that Luisa managed to thwart a ceiling leak right over her writing desk! Radio silence since then suggests that her local wireless network is down as well.)
Terrific poem and OMG, what a story of your grandmother, Luisa!