Podcast appearances and mentions of William Carlos Williams

Reposted from Murder Magnets: A Poker Face Podcast, which you can find at https://podcastica.com/podcast/murder-magnets-a-poker-face-podcast  — It's a full house this week to tackle Charlie's latest adventure in the cutthroat land of New York City real estate. Join Penny, Becky, Jason, and special guests Jen and Rob to talk it out. Next up: Poker Face S2E10 “The Big Pump.” Let us know your thoughts! You can email or send a voice message to bullshit@podcastica.com.  Or check out our Facebook group, where we put up comment posts for each episode, at facebook.com/groups/podcastica. Links: Check out Rob's art and articles on AI: ROBGON.COM Dirge Without Music by Edna St. Vincent Millay: https://poets.org/poem/dirge-without-music  This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/56159/this-is-just-to-say  One Art by Elizabeth Bishop: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47536/one-art  Check out all our other shows at podcastica.com.  Check out Becky's podcast “What's On Tonight” at https://www.facebook.com/people/Whats-On-Tonight/61566882612402/  Show support and get ad-free episodes and a bunch of other cool stuff: patreon.com/jasoncabassi  Or go to buymeacoffee.com/cabassi for a one-time donation. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A bit over a hundred years ago, Ezra Pound corralled a group known as the Imagists that would have a profound effect on poetry as we know it. A controversial figure, Pound explored and enlivened the economy of language and rich images that became founding principles of the group, along with H.D. (Hilda Doolittle), Richard Aldington, William Carlos Williams, Amy Lowell, and F.S. Flint.At the Table:Katie DozierTimothy GreenJoe BarcaDick WestheimerBrian O'Sullivan

Marcus Rattler joined me for Episode No. 168, and -- while none of my guests have been mental slouches -- Marcus has to be one of the sharpest dudes I've sat down with to date. Mr. Rattler is a son, a sibling, a father, and a musician. He's one heck of an educated guy, and he brings good energy with him as he navigates this life.Marcus plays steel pan and drums in sundry outfits, and you can check out his content on TikTok (@marcus.rattler.music), on Instagram (@marcusrattler), on Facebook, and on YouTube. He's got a really great story, incredible vision and ambition, and plenty of positive to spread across Mother Earth, be it in the Kansas City area, Canada, Trinidad & Tobago, Miami, or Chicago, he's bound to bring the good juju with him.I was lucky enough to sit down with Marcus for a couple of hours and talk life goals, his band Legerdemain, his wish to work with Tech N9ne, and a few of his favorite musicians, too, which were these:Jonathan ScalesArt Blakey & the Jazz MessengersTech N9neEric WhitacreMany thanks to Marcus for his time, his kindness, his clarity, and his good nature. And many thanks to you for supporting the podcast.Note: I fucked up and referred to works by William Carlos Williams, mistakenly calling them E.E. Cummings' works.disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the audio samples contained within this episode. They are clips from a Parliament tune called, "Supergroovalisticprosifunkstication (The Bumps Bump)," which comes from their 1975 release, Mothership Connection, c/o The Island Def Jam Music Group.

Written as a love letter to her ancestral motherland, Daughter de Borikén (Editorial Pulpo, 2024) speaks to those who intimately know what it feels like to be diáspora-displaced. It is an ode to her guerrera ancestras and to the sacred archipelago of Borikén that gave them breath. In her poems, Lola shares her rage against the colonizers and an unconditional love for the land that, although it didn't birth her, she has always known as home. Lola Rosario Aponte es una fogosa defensora de Puerto Rico - Daughter de Borikén, es su primer poemario, una obra que parece ser la fruta de varias décadas de solidaridad descolonial y acción comunitaria. Rosario Aponte ha elaborado una especie de manifiesto de varias capas, atacando las realidades socioeconómicas, políticas y culturales colonialistas que enfrentan a la isla. Con una voz audaz y elocuente, aporta una perspectiva amplia sobre cómo desaprender las innumerables falsedades del colonialismo, empezando con la palabra. Su trabajo va desafiando las narrativas del colonialismo, entrelazando la identidad, la resistencia y la libertad en cada verso. Sus letras son un acto de reivindicación que apuesta por un futuro donde la cultura puertorriqueña exista sin el peso de la opresión, invitándonos a reflexionar sobre el pasado y a imaginar un mundo nuevo, donde el arte sea la herramienta de transformación y sanación colectiva. Entrevista realizada por Jeffrey Herlihy-Mera, Catedrático de Humanidades, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Mayagüez, Carmen Haydée Rivera, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Río Piedras y Lola Rosario Aponte. Este podcast y el Instituto Nuevos Horizontes son patrocinados por la Mellon Foundation. Temas dialogados y personas mencionadas en este episodio: Editorial Pulpo Insistir en sólo hablar inglés en casa en Nueva York John Villavicencio y la lengua quechua en Perú y la lengua quichua en Ecuador Jorge Duany William Carlos Williams y su obra Yes, Mrs. Williams: A Personal Record of My Mother La familia de William Carlos Williams en Guayaquil La lengua como filosofía Lenguas “extranjeras” vis-à-vis “domésticas” para familias diaspóricas Nuyorican Poets Cafe Héctor "Tito" Matos (His plena "Gringo Imperialista" is used as an epigraph for the poem “¡Larguense Ya!”) Noel Quiñones Denice Frohman Esmeralda Santiago Catañol La Real Academia Española (y sus deficiencias) Spanglish Code switching Estudiantes STEM y code-switching Rechazo de escritores nuyorican en Puerto Rico Charla Magistral de Carmen Haydée en la UPR-M Carlos Colón Ruiz Census and paper genocide Idalís García-Reyes Alma Datil Calderón Noel Quiñones Denice Frohman Tito Puente Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Written as a love letter to her ancestral motherland, Daughter de Borikén (Editorial Pulpo, 2024) speaks to those who intimately know what it feels like to be diáspora-displaced. It is an ode to her guerrera ancestras and to the sacred archipelago of Borikén that gave them breath. In her poems, Lola shares her rage against the colonizers and an unconditional love for the land that, although it didn't birth her, she has always known as home. Lola Rosario Aponte es una fogosa defensora de Puerto Rico - Daughter de Borikén, es su primer poemario, una obra que parece ser la fruta de varias décadas de solidaridad descolonial y acción comunitaria. Rosario Aponte ha elaborado una especie de manifiesto de varias capas, atacando las realidades socioeconómicas, políticas y culturales colonialistas que enfrentan a la isla. Con una voz audaz y elocuente, aporta una perspectiva amplia sobre cómo desaprender las innumerables falsedades del colonialismo, empezando con la palabra. Su trabajo va desafiando las narrativas del colonialismo, entrelazando la identidad, la resistencia y la libertad en cada verso. Sus letras son un acto de reivindicación que apuesta por un futuro donde la cultura puertorriqueña exista sin el peso de la opresión, invitándonos a reflexionar sobre el pasado y a imaginar un mundo nuevo, donde el arte sea la herramienta de transformación y sanación colectiva. Entrevista realizada por Jeffrey Herlihy-Mera, Catedrático de Humanidades, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Mayagüez, Carmen Haydée Rivera, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Río Piedras y Lola Rosario Aponte. Este podcast y el Instituto Nuevos Horizontes son patrocinados por la Mellon Foundation. Temas dialogados y personas mencionadas en este episodio: Editorial Pulpo Insistir en sólo hablar inglés en casa en Nueva York John Villavicencio y la lengua quechua en Perú y la lengua quichua en Ecuador Jorge Duany William Carlos Williams y su obra Yes, Mrs. Williams: A Personal Record of My Mother La familia de William Carlos Williams en Guayaquil La lengua como filosofía Lenguas “extranjeras” vis-à-vis “domésticas” para familias diaspóricas Nuyorican Poets Cafe Héctor "Tito" Matos (His plena "Gringo Imperialista" is used as an epigraph for the poem “¡Larguense Ya!”) Noel Quiñones Denice Frohman Esmeralda Santiago Catañol La Real Academia Española (y sus deficiencias) Spanglish Code switching Estudiantes STEM y code-switching Rechazo de escritores nuyorican en Puerto Rico Charla Magistral de Carmen Haydée en la UPR-M Carlos Colón Ruiz Census and paper genocide Idalís García-Reyes Alma Datil Calderón Noel Quiñones Denice Frohman Tito Puente Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Written as a love letter to her ancestral motherland, Daughter de Borikén (Editorial Pulpo, 2024) speaks to those who intimately know what it feels like to be diáspora-displaced. It is an ode to her guerrera ancestras and to the sacred archipelago of Borikén that gave them breath. In her poems, Lola shares her rage against the colonizers and an unconditional love for the land that, although it didn't birth her, she has always known as home. Lola Rosario Aponte es una fogosa defensora de Puerto Rico - Daughter de Borikén, es su primer poemario, una obra que parece ser la fruta de varias décadas de solidaridad descolonial y acción comunitaria. Rosario Aponte ha elaborado una especie de manifiesto de varias capas, atacando las realidades socioeconómicas, políticas y culturales colonialistas que enfrentan a la isla. Con una voz audaz y elocuente, aporta una perspectiva amplia sobre cómo desaprender las innumerables falsedades del colonialismo, empezando con la palabra. Su trabajo va desafiando las narrativas del colonialismo, entrelazando la identidad, la resistencia y la libertad en cada verso. Sus letras son un acto de reivindicación que apuesta por un futuro donde la cultura puertorriqueña exista sin el peso de la opresión, invitándonos a reflexionar sobre el pasado y a imaginar un mundo nuevo, donde el arte sea la herramienta de transformación y sanación colectiva. Entrevista realizada por Jeffrey Herlihy-Mera, Catedrático de Humanidades, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Mayagüez, Carmen Haydée Rivera, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Río Piedras y Lola Rosario Aponte. Este podcast y el Instituto Nuevos Horizontes son patrocinados por la Mellon Foundation. Temas dialogados y personas mencionadas en este episodio: Editorial Pulpo Insistir en sólo hablar inglés en casa en Nueva York John Villavicencio y la lengua quechua en Perú y la lengua quichua en Ecuador Jorge Duany William Carlos Williams y su obra Yes, Mrs. Williams: A Personal Record of My Mother La familia de William Carlos Williams en Guayaquil La lengua como filosofía Lenguas “extranjeras” vis-à-vis “domésticas” para familias diaspóricas Nuyorican Poets Cafe Héctor "Tito" Matos (His plena "Gringo Imperialista" is used as an epigraph for the poem “¡Larguense Ya!”) Noel Quiñones Denice Frohman Esmeralda Santiago Catañol La Real Academia Española (y sus deficiencias) Spanglish Code switching Estudiantes STEM y code-switching Rechazo de escritores nuyorican en Puerto Rico Charla Magistral de Carmen Haydée Rivera en la UPR-M Carlos Colón Ruiz Census and paper genocide Idalís García-Reyes Alma Datil Calderón Tito Puente Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Producer/Host: R.W. Estela Hi, I'm RW Estela: Since 1991, I've been presenting A Word in Edgewise, WERU's longest-running short feature, a veritable almanac of worldly and heavenly happenings, a confluence of 21st-century life in its myriad manifestations, international and domestic, cosmopolitan and rural, often revealing, as the French say, the more things change, the more they stay the same — though not always! Sometimes in addressing issues affecting our day-to-day lives, in this age of vagary and ambiguity, when chronological time is punctuated elliptically, things can quickly turn edgy and controversial, as we search for understanding amid our dialectic. Tune in Monday mornings at 7:30 a.m. for an exciting journey through space and time with a few notable birthdays thrown in for good measure during A Word in Edgewise . . . About the host: RW Estela was raised as a first-generation American in Colorado by a German mother and a Corsican-Basque father who would become a three-war veteran for the US Army, so RW was naturally a military brat and later engaged in various Vietnam-era civil-service adventures before paying his way through college by skiing for the University of Colorado, playing Boulder coffeehouses, and teaching. He has climbed all of Colorado's Fourteeners; found work as an FAA-certificated commercial pilot, a California-licensed building contractor, a publishing editor, a practitioner of Aikido, and a college professor of English; among his many interdisciplinary pursuits are the design and building of Terrell Residence Library (recently renamed the Terrell House Permaculture Living & Learning Center at the University of Maine), writing Building It In Two Languages (a bilingual dictionary of construction terminology), aerial photo documentation of two dam removals (Great Works and Veazie) on the Penobscot River, and once a week since 1991 drafting an installment of A Word In Edgewise, his essay series addressing issues affecting our day-to-day lives — and WERU's oldest continuous short feature. When pandemics do not interfere, he does the Triple Crown of Maine open-water ocean swims (Peaks to Portland, Islesboro Crossing, and Nubble Light Challenge) and the Whitewater Downriver Point Series of the Maine Canoe and Kayak Racing Organization. RW is the father of two and the grandfather of three and lives with his partner Kathleen of 37 years and their two Maine Coons in Orono. The post A Word in Edgewise 4/28/25: The April-May Cusp, William Carlos Williams, & Ann-Margret . . . first appeared on WERU 89.9 FM Blue Hill, Maine Local News and Public Affairs Archives.

April 25, 2025 - "This is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams, read by Chris Valle by The Desmond-Fish Public Library & The Highlands Current, hosted by Ryan Biracree

Listen to ASCO's Journal of Clinical Oncology Art of Oncology article, "Tamales” by Megan Dupuis, an Assistant Professor of Hematology and Oncology at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. The article is followed by an interview with Dupuis and host Dr. Mikkael Sekeres. Dupuis reflects on how patients invite their doctors into their culture and their world- and how this solidified her choice to be an oncologist. TRANSCRIPT Narrator: Tamales, by Megan Dupuis, MD, PhDI do not know if you know this, but tamales are an important—nay, critical—part of the Mexican Christmas tradition. Before I moved to Texas, I certainly did not know that. I did not know that the simple tamal, made of masa flour and fillings and steamed in a corn husk, is as essential to the holiday season as music and lights. Whole think pieces have been written in The Atlantic about it, for God's sake. But, I did not know that. A total gringa, I had grown up in upstate NY. We had the middle-class American version of Christmas traditions—music, snow, Santa, and a Honey Baked Ham that mom ordered 2 weeks before the holiday. I had never tried a homemade tamal until I moved to Texas. We had relocated because I was starting a fellowship in hematology/oncology. A central part of our training was the privilege of working at the county hospital cancer clinic. Because we were the safety-net hospital, our patients with cancer were often under- or uninsured, frequently had financial difficulty, and were almost always immigrants, documented or otherwise. In a typical clinic day, over 90% of my patients spoke Spanish; one or two spoke Vietnamese; and typically, none spoke English. From meeting my very first patient in clinic, I knew this was where I needed to be. Have you ever been unsure of a decision until you have been allowed to marinate in it? That is how I felt about cancer care; I had not been sure that my path was right until I started in the county oncology clinic. I loved absorbing the details of my patients' lives and the cultures that centered them: that Cuban Spanish is not Mexican Spanish and is not Puerto Rican Spanish; that many of my patients lived in multigenerational homes, with abuelos and tios and nietos all mixed together; and that most of them continued to work full-time jobs while battling cancer. They had hobbies they pursued with passion and lived and died by their children's accomplishments. I learned these details in the spaces between diagnosis and treatment, in the steady pattern woven in between the staccato visits for chemotherapy, scans, pain control, progression, and hospice.  In one of those in-betweens, my patient Cristina told me about tamales. She had faced metastatic breast cancer for many years. She was an impeccable dresser, with matching velour tracksuits or nice slacks with kitten heels or a dress that nipped in at the waist and flared past her knees. Absolutely bald from treatment, she would make her hairlessness look like high fashion rather than alopecia foisted upon her. Her makeup was always painstakingly done and made her look 10 years younger than her youthful middle age. At one visit in August, she came to clinic in her pajamas and my heart sank. This was a familiar pattern to me by now; I had taken care of her for 2 years, and pajamas were my canary in the coal mine of progressing cancer.  So on that sunny day, I asked Cristina what her goals would be for the coming months. The cancer had circumvented many of her chemotherapy options, and I only had a few left. “Doctora D, I know my time is limited…” she started in Spanish, with my interpreter by my side translating, “but I would really like to make it to Christmas. My family is coming from Mexico.” “Oh that's lovely. Do you have any special Christmas plans?” I ventured, wanting to understand what her holidays look like. “Plans? Doctora D, of course we are making tamales!” She laughed, as though we were both in on a joke. “Tamales? At Christmas?” I asked, signaling her to go on.  “Yes yes yes, every year we make hundreds and hundreds of tamales, and we sell them! And we use the money to buy gifts for the kids, and we eat them ourselves too. It is tradicio´ n, Doctora D.” She underlined tradicio´ n with her voice, emphasizing the criticality of this piece of information. “Okay,” I said, pausing to think—December was only four months away. “I will start a different chemotherapy, and we will try to get you to Christmas to make your tamales.” Cristina nodded, and the plan was made.  Later that evening, I asked one of my cofellows, a Houston native, about tamales. He shared that these treats are an enormous part of the Houston Christmas tradition, and if I had any sense, I would only purchase them from an abuela out of the trunk of a car. This was the only way to get the best homemade ones. “The ones from restaurants,” he informed me, “are crap.”  So summer bled into fall, and fall became what passes for winter in Texas. On 1 day in the middle of December, Cristina came into clinic, dressed in a colorful sweater, flowing white pants, black boots, and topped off with Barbie-pink lipstick. “Cristina!” I exclaimed, a bit confused. “You don't have an appointment with me today, do you?”  She grinned at me and held up a plastic grocery bag with a knot in the handles, displaying it like a prize.  “Tamales, Doctora D. I brought you some tamales so you can join our Christmas tradition.” I felt the sting of tears, overwhelmed with gratitude at 11:30 in a busy county clinic. I thanked her profusely for my gift. When I brought them home that night, my husband and I savored them slowly, enjoying them like you would any exquisite dish off a tasting menu. Sometimes, people think that oncologists are ghouls. They only see the Cristinas when they are in their pajamas and wonder why would any doctor ever give her more treatment?  My answer is because I also got to see her thriving joyfully in track suits and lipstick, because I got to spend countless in-betweens with her, and because I helped get her to the Christmas tradiciones I only knew about because of her. And in return, she gave of herself so easily, sharing her life, her passion, her struggles, and her fears with me. Caring for Cristina helped me marinate in the decision to become an oncologist and know that it was the right one. And if you are wondering—yes. Now tamales are a Christmas tradicio´n in the Dupuis household, too. Mikkael Sekeres: Hello, and welcome to JCO's Cancer Stories: The Art of Oncology, which features essays and personal reflections from authors exploring their experience in the oncology field. I'm your host, Mikkael Sekeres. I'm a professor of Medicine and Chief of the Division of Hematology at the Sylvester Comprehensive Cancer Center, University of Miami. What a pleasure it is today to be joined by Dr. Megan Dupuis from Vanderbilt University Medical Center. She is Assistant Professor of Hematology and Oncology and Associate Program Director for the Fellowship program. In this episode, we will be discussing her Art of Oncology article, "Tamales." Our guest's disclosures will be linked in the transcript. Both she and I have talked beforehand and agreed to refer to each other by first names. Megan, welcome to our podcast, and thank you for joining us. Megan Dupuis: Oh, thanks so much for having me, Mikkael. I'm excited to be here. Mikkael Sekeres: I absolutely loved your piece, "Tamales," as did our reviewers. It really did resonate with all of us and was beautifully and artfully written. I'm wondering if we could just start—tell us about yourself. Where are you from, and where did you do your training? Megan Dupuis: Sure. I'm originally from upstate New York. I grew up outside of Albany and then moved for college to Buffalo, New York. So I consider Buffalo home. Big Buffalo Bills fan. And I spent undergrad, medical school, and my PhD in tumor immunology at the University of Buffalo. My husband agreed to stick with me in Buffalo for all twelve years if we moved out of the cold weather after we were done. And so that played some factor in my choice of residency program. I was lucky enough to go to Duke for residency—internal medicine residency—and then went to MD Anderson for fellowship training. And then after Anderson, I moved up to Nashville, Tennessee, where I've been at Vanderbilt for almost four years now. Mikkael Sekeres: That's fantastic. Well, I have to say, your Bills have outperformed my Pittsburgh Steelers the past few years, but I think I think we have a chance this coming year. Megan Dupuis: Yeah. Yep. Yep. I saw they were thinking about signing Aaron Rodgers, so we'll see how that goes. Mikkael Sekeres: Yeah, not going to talk about that in this episode. So, I'm curious about your story as a writer. How long have you been writing narrative pieces? Megan Dupuis: I have always been a writer—noodled around with writing and poetry, even in college. But it was when I started doing my medicine training at Duke that I started to more intentionally start writing about my experiences, about patients, things that I saw, things that weighed either heavily on me or made a difference. So when I was at Duke, there was a narrative medicine writing workshop—it was a weekend workshop—that I felt like changed the trajectory of what my interest is in writing. And I wrote a piece at that time that was then sort of critiqued by colleagues and friends and kicked off my writing experience. And I've been writing ever since then. We formed a narrative medicine program at Duke out of this weekend workshop experience. And I carried that through to MD Anderson when I was a fellow. And then when I joined at Vanderbilt, I asked around and said, "Hey, is there a narrative medicine program at Vanderbilt?" And somebody pointed me in the direction of a colleague, Chase Webber, who's in internal medicine, and they said, "Hey, he's been thinking about putting together a medical humanities program but needs a co-conspirator, if you will." And so it was perfect timing, and he and I got together and started a Medical Humanities Certificate Program at Vanderbilt about four years ago. And so- Mikkael Sekeres: Oh, wow. Megan Dupuis: Yeah. So I've been doing this work professionally, but also personally. You know, one of the things that I have been doing for a long time is anytime there's an experience that I have that I think, “Gosh, I should write about this later,” I either dictate it into my phone, “write about this later,” or I write a little message to myself, “Make sure that you remember this experience and document it later.” And I keep a little notebook in my pocket specifically to do that. Mikkael Sekeres: Well, it's really a fabulous, updated use of technology compared to when William Carlos Williams used to scribble lines of poetry on his prescription pad and put it in his rolltop desk. Megan Dupuis: Although I will admit, you know, I don't think I'm much different. I still do prefer often the little leather notebook in the pocket to dictating. It'll often be when I'm in the car driving home from a clinic day or whatever, and I'll go, “Oh, I have to write about this, and I can't forget.” And I'll make myself a little digital reminder if I have to. But I still do keep the leather notebook as well for the more traditional type of writing experience. Mikkael Sekeres: I'm curious about what triggers you to dictate something or to scribble something down. Megan Dupuis: I think anything that gives me an emotional response, you know, anything that really says, “That was a little bit outside the normal clinical encounter for me.” Something that strikes me as moving, meaningful—and it doesn't have to be sad. I think a lot of novice writers about medical writing think you have to write only the tragic or the sad stories. But as often as not, it'll be something incredibly funny or poignant that a patient said in clinic that will make me go, “Ah, I have to make sure I remember that for later.” I think even surprise, you know? I think all of us can be surprised in a clinical encounter. Something a patient says or something a spouse will reflect on will make me sit back and say, “Hmm, that's not what I expected them to say. I should dive into why I'm surprised by that.” Mikkael Sekeres: It's a great notion as a starting point: an emotional connection, a moment of surprise. And that it doesn't have to be sad, right? It can be- sometimes our patients are incredibly inspirational and have great insights. It's one of the marvelous things about the career we've chosen is that we get to learn from people from such a variety of backgrounds. Megan Dupuis: That's it. It's a privilege every day to be invited into people's most personal experiences, and not just the medical experience. You know, I say to my patients, “I think this cancer diagnosis is in some ways the least interesting thing about you. It's not something you pick. It's not a hobby you cultivate. It's not your family life. It's a thing that's happened to you.” And so I really like to dive into: Who are these people? What makes them tick? What's important to them? My infusion nurses will say, "Oh, Dr. D, we love logging in and reading your social histories," because, yeah, I'll get the tobacco and alcohol history, or what have you. But I have a little dot phrase that I use for every new patient. It takes maybe the first five or six minutes of a visit, not long. But it's: Who are you? What's your preferred name? Who are your people? How far do you live from the clinic? What did you used to do for work if you're retired? If you're not retired, what do you do now? What are the names of your pets? What do you like to do in your spare time? What are you most proud of? So those are things that I ask at every new patient encounter. And I think it lays the foundation to understand who's this three-dimensional human being across from me, right? What were they like before this diagnosis changed the trajectory of where they were going? To me, that's the most important thing. Mikkael Sekeres: You've so wonderfully separated: The patient is not the diagnosis; it's a person. And the diagnosis is some component of that person. And it's the reason we're seeing each other, but it doesn't define that person. Megan Dupuis: That's right. We're crossing streams at a very tough point in their life. But there was so much that came before that. And in the piece that I wrote, you know, what is the language? What is the food? What is the family? What are all of those things, and how do they come together to make you the person that you are, for what's important to you in your life? And I think as oncologists, we're often trying to unravel in some way what is important. I could spend all day talking to you about PFS and OS for a specific drug combination, but is that really getting to meeting the goals of the patient and where they're at? I think it's easy to sort of say, “Well, this is the medicine that's going to get you the most overall survival.” But does it acknowledge the fact that you are a musician who can't have neuropathy in your fingers if you still want to play? Right? So those things become incredibly important when we're deciding not just treatment planning, but also what is the time toxicity? You know, do you have the time and ability to come back and forth to clinic for weekly chemotherapy or what have you? So those things, to me, become incredibly important when I'm talking to a person sitting across from me. Mikkael Sekeres: Do your patients ever get surprised that you're asking such broad questions about their life instead of narrowing down to the focus of their cancer? Megan Dupuis: Sometimes. I will say, sometimes patients are almost so anxious, of course, with this new diagnosis, they want to get into it. You know, they don't want to sit there and tell me the name of the horses on their farm, right? They want to know, “What's the plan, doc?” So I acknowledge that, and I say to them in the beginning, “Hey, if you give me five minutes of your time to tell me who you are as a person, I promise this will come back around later when we start talking about the options for treatments for you.” Most of the time, though, I think they're just happy to be asked who they are as a person. They're happy that I care. And I think all of us in oncology care—I think that's... you don't go into a field like this because you're not interested in the human experience, right? But they're happy that it's demonstrable that there is a... I'm literally saying, “What is the name of your dog? What is the name of your child who lives down the street? Who are your kids that live far away? You know, do you talk to them?” They want to share those things, and they want to be acknowledged. I think these diagnoses can be dehumanizing. And so to rehumanize somebody does not take as much time as we may think it does. Mikkael Sekeres: I 100% agree with you. And there can be a selfish aspect to it also. I think we're naturally curious people and want to know how other people have lived their lives and can live those lives vicariously through them. So I'm the sort of person who likes to do projects around the house. And I think, to the dismay of many a professional person, I consider myself an amateur electrician, plumber, and carpenter. Some of the projects are actually up to code, not all. But you get to learn how other people have lived their lives and how they made things. And that could be making something concrete, like an addition to their house, or it can be making a life. Megan Dupuis: Yeah, I love that you say that it is selfish, and we acknowledge that. You know, sometimes I think that we went into internal medicine and ultimately oncology... and I don't mean this in a trite way: I want the gossip about your life. I want the details. I want to dig into your hobbies, your relationships, what makes you angry, what makes you excited. I think they're the fun things to learn about folks. Again, in some ways, I think the cancer diagnosis is almost such a trite or banal part of who a human is. It's not to say that it's not going to shape their life in a very profound way, but it's not something they picked. It's something that happened to them. And so I'm much more excited to say, “Hey, what are your weekend hobbies? Are you an amateur electrician?” And that dovetails deeply into what kind of treatment might help you to do those things for longer. So I think it is a little bit selfish that it gives me a lot of satisfaction to get to know who people are. Mikkael Sekeres: So part of what we're talking about, indirectly, is the sense of otherness. And an undercurrent theme in your essay is otherness. You were an 'other' as a fellow in training and working in Texas when you grew up in upstate New York. And our patients are also 'others.' They're thrust into this often complicated bedlam of cancer care. Can you talk about how you felt as an 'other' and how that's affected your approach to your patients? Megan Dupuis: I think in the cancer experience, we are 'other,' definitionally, from the start, for exactly the reasons that you said. I'm coming to it as your physician; you're coming to it as my patient. This is a new encounter and a new experience for both of us. I think the added layer of being this person from upstate New York who didn't... I mean, I minored in Spanish in college, but that's not the same thing as growing up in a culture that speaks Spanish, that comes from a Spanish-speaking country—the food, the culture. It's all incredibly different. And so the way that I approached it there was to say, “I am genuinely curious. I want to know what it's like to be different than the culture that I was raised in.” And I'm excited to know about that thing.   And I think we can tell—I think, as humans—when somebody is genuinely curious about who you are and what's important to you, versus when they're kind of just checking the boxes to try to build a relationship that's necessary. I think my patients could tell that even though I'm not necessarily speaking their language, I want to know. I ask these questions because I want to know. I think if you go to it from a place of curiosity, if you are approaching another person with a genuine sense of curiosity... You know, Faith Fitzgerald wrote her most remarkable piece on curiosity many, many years ago. But even the quote-unquote “boring” patient, as she put it, can have an incredible story to tell if you're curious enough to ask. And so I think that no matter how different I might be culturally from the patient sitting across from me, if I approach it with a genuine sense of curiosity, and they can sense that, that. that's going to build the bond that we need truly to walk together on this cancer journey. I think it's curiosity, and I think it's also sharing of yourself. I think that nobody is going to open up to you if they feel that you are closed to sharing a bit of yourself. Patients want to know who their doctor is, too. So when I said I asked those five or six minutes' worth of questions at the beginning of a new patient encounter, I share that info with them. I tell them where I live, how long it takes for me to get to clinic, who my people are, the name of my dog, what I like to do in my spare time, what I'm proud of. So I share that with them too, so it doesn't feel like a one-way grilling. It feels like an introduction, a meeting, the start of a... I don't want to say friendship necessarily, but a start of a friendliness, of a shared communal experience. Mikkael Sekeres: Well, it's a start of a relationship. And you can define 'relationship' with a broad swath of definitions, right? Megan Dupuis: That's right. Mikkael Sekeres: It can be a relationship that is a friendship. It can be a relationship that's a professional relationship. And just like we know some personal things about some of our colleagues, the same is true of our patients. I was wondering if I could pick up on... I love that notion of curiosity that you brought out because that's something I've thought a lot about, and I've thought about whether it could be at least one way to combat burnout. So could you put that in context of burnout? Do you think maintaining that curiosity throughout a career is one potential solution to burnout? And do you think that being open with yourself also helps combat burnout, which is counterintuitive to what we've always been taught? Megan Dupuis: Wow. I think that this is such an important question, and it's almost like you read my justification for a Medical Humanities Certificate Program. One of the foundational arguments for why I thought the GME should support the creation of this program at Vanderbilt was because we hypothesized that it would improve burnout. And one of the arms of that is because it engenders a sense of genuine curiosity. When you're thinking about the arms of burnout: it's loss of meaning in your work; it's depersonalization of patients, right, when they're treated as objects or numbers or a ticket in the system that you have to shuffle through; when it's disconnection from the work that you do. I absolutely think that curiosity is an antidote to burnout. I don't think it's the whole solution, perhaps, because I think that burnout also includes systemic injury and structures of our medical healthcare system that no individual can fix in a vacuum. But I do think when we're thinking about what are the changes that we as individual physicians can make, I do think that being open and curious about your patient is one of the best salves that we have against some of these wounds. You know, I've never left a room where a patient has shared a personal story and felt worse about it, right? I've always felt better for the experience. And so I do think curiosity is an incredibly important piece of it. It's hard, I will acknowledge. It's hard for the speed that we move through the system, the pace that we move through the system. And I'm thinking often about my trainees—my residents, my fellows—who are seeing a lot, they're doing a lot, they are trying to learn and drink from the fire hose of the pace of medical development, checking so many boxes. And so to remain curious, I think at times can feel like a luxury. I think it's a luxury I have boomeranged back into as an attending. You know, certainly as a resident and a fellow, I felt like, “Gosh, why does this attending want to sit and chitchat about this person's music career? I'm just trying to make sure their pain is controlled. I'm trying to make sure they get admitted safely. I'm trying to make sure that they're getting the right treatment.” And I think it's something that I've tried to teach my trainees: “No, we have the time. I promise we have the time to ask this person what their childhood was like,” if that's something that is important to the narrative of their story. So it sometimes feels like a luxury. But I also think it's such a critical part of avoiding or mitigating the burnout that I know all of us face. Mikkael Sekeres: I think you touched on a lot of really important points. Burnout is so much more complicated than just one inciting factor and one solution. It's systemic. And I love also how you positioned curiosity as a bit of a luxury. We have to have the mental space to also be curious and engaged enough in our work that we can take interest in other people. I wanted to touch on one more question. You write in your essay that a patient in pajamas is a canary in the coal mine for deteriorating health. And I completely, completely agree with that. I can vividly recall a number of patients where I saw them in my clinic, and I would look down, and they had food spilled on their sweatshirt, or they were wearing mismatched socks, or their shoes weren't tied. And you thought to yourself, “Gee, this person is not thriving at home.” Do you think telemedicine has affected our ability to recognize that in our patients? Megan Dupuis: Yes, I do think so. I can remember vividly being a fellow when COVID first began in 2020, and I was training in an environment where most of my patients spoke Spanish or Vietnamese. And so we were doing not just telemedicine; we were doing telephone call clearance for chemotherapy because a lot of the patients didn't have either access to the technology or a phone that had video capability. A lot of them had flip phones. And trying to clear somebody for chemotherapy over the phone, I'll tell you, Mikkael, was the number one way to lead to a recipe of moral injury and burnout. As a person who felt this deep responsibility to do something safe... I think even now with telemedicine, there are a lot of things that you can hide from the waist down, right? If you can get it together enough to maybe just put a shirt on, I won't know that you're sitting there in pajama bottoms. I won't know that you're struggling to stand or that you're using an assistive device to move when you used to be able to come into clinic without one, or that your family member is helping you negotiate stepping over the curb in clinic. These are real litmus tests that you and I, all of us, use when we're deciding whether somebody is safe to receive a treatment. And I think telemedicine does mask some of that. Now, on the other hand, does telemedicine provide an access point for patients that otherwise it would be a challenge to drive into clinic for routine visits and care? It does, and I think it's been an incredible boon for patients who live far away from the clinic. But I think we have to use it judiciously. And there are patients where I will say, “If you are not well enough to get yourself to clinic, I worry that you are not well enough to safely receive treatment.” And when I'm thinking about the rules of chemo, it's three: It has to be effective, right? Cancer decides that. It has to be something the patient wants. They decide. But then the safety piece—that's my choice. That's my responsibility. And I can't always decide safety on a telemedicine call. Mikkael Sekeres: I completely agree. I've said to my patients before, “It's hard for me to assess you when I'm only seeing 40% of you.” So we will often negotiate them having to withstand the traffic in Miami to come in so I can feel safe in administering the chemotherapy that I think they need. Megan Dupuis: That's exactly right. Mikkael Sekeres: Megan Dupuis, it has been an absolute delight getting to chat with you. It has been just terrific getting to know you and talk about your fabulous essay, "Tamales." So thank you so much for joining me. Megan Dupuis: Thank you for having me. It was a wonderful time to chat with you as well. Mikkael Sekeres: Until next time, thank you for listening to JCO's Cancer Stories: The Art of Oncology. Don't forget to give us a rating or review, and be sure to subscribe so you never miss an episode. You can find all of ASCO's shows at asco.org/podcasts. Thank you again.   The purpose of this podcast is to educate and to inform. This is not a substitute for professional medical care and is not intended for use in the diagnosis or treatment of individual conditions. Guests on this podcast express their own opinions, experience, and conclusions. Guest statements on the podcast do not express the opinions of ASCO. The mention of any product, service, organization, activity, or therapy should not be construed as an ASCO endorsement.  Like, share and subscribe so you never miss an episode and leave a rating or review. Guest Bio: Dr Megan Dupuis is an Assistant Professor of Hematology and Oncology at Vanderbilt University Medical Center.  

Read by Juliet Prew Production and Sound Design by Kevin Seaman

Marianne Moore (1887-1972) achieved something rare in American letters: a modernist poet who was popular with both critics and the public. Famous for her formal innovation, precise diction, and wit - as well as her black tri-corner hat and cloak, which she wore as she dashed around Manhattan - she was lauded by T.S. Eliot (and numerous prize committees) and treated by the public as a true American poet. Muhammad Ali asked her to write the liner notes to his album notes; Ford Motor Company asked her to name their line of cars. In this episode, Jacke talks to Moore scholar Cristanne Miller about Moore's life, Moore's work, and a new digital archive project that unites the two. Additional listening: 564 H.D. (with Lara Vetter) 56 Shelley, H.D., Yeats, Frost, Stevens (with Professor Bill Hogan) 176 William Carlos Williams's "The Use of Force" (with Mike Palindrome) The music in this episode is by Gabriel Ruiz-Bernal. Learn more at gabrielruizbernal.com. Help support the show at patreon.com/literature or historyofliterature.com/donate. The History of Literature Podcast is a member of Lit Hub Radio and the Podglomerate Network. Learn more at thepodglomerate.com/historyofliterature. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Words and music - Was können Worte ausdrücken, wo Musik still sein muss, was Musik, wo Worte wie Wörter stumm ... Das Komponisten- und Hörspielmacherduo Milliken und Wiesner umkreist hierzu die Poesie der Moderne. Im Zentrum stehen Prosagedichte aus Gertrude Steins Buch "Tender Buttons" von 1914 sowie Lyrik von William Carlos Williams. Sie hinterfragen amüsant wie sprachspielerisch den von Gefühlen geleiteten Blick auf die Alltagsdinge - von der Vase, dem Wohnzimmer bis zur Obstschale. Und die Musik antwortet über eine Palette von Instrumenten und Stilen, die von Leidenschaften erzählt. Mit: Dagmar Manzel (Deutsche Stimme) Julian Day, Brett Dean, Cathy Milliken, Michael Schiefel und Vanessa Tomlinson (Englische Stimmen) Musikaufnahme: Lutz Glandien Wortaufnahme und Final Mix: Jean Szymczak Komposition: Cathy Milliken Musik-Arrangements und Regie: Dietmar Wiesner Produktion: SWR 2022

"A day in the life, a moment of connection with God is a lifetime. Every breath we take is a world of opportunity. Every moment. Time looks like a heartless, relentless march forever forward to our end. As poet William Carlos Williams said, “Time is a storm in which we are all lost.” But is time a rapidly dwindling, limited resource that we must spend frivolously before it's all gone? Maybe time isn't a desperate scrabble to use it all up – before we run out of it. The English word ‘moment' comes from the Latin word momentum, implying relentless movement – The march of time. The Hebrew word for time - rega, comes from ragua, which means a state of calm or rest. The rest of your life. In 1972, Rabbi Yaakov Asher Sinclair opened SARM Studios the first 24-track recording studio in Europe where Queen mixed “Bohemian Rhapsody”. His music publishing company, Druidcrest Music published the music for The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1973) and as a record producer, he co-produced the quadruple-platinum debut album by American band “Foreigner” (1976). American Top ten singles from this album included, “Feels Like The First Time”, “Cold as Ice” and “Long, Long Way from Home”. Other production work included “The Enid – In the Region of the Summer Stars”, “The Curves”, and “Nutz” as well as singles based on The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy with Douglas Adams and Richard O'Brien. Other artists who used SARM included: ABC, Alison Moyet, Art of Noise, Brian May, The Buggles, The Clash, Dina Carroll, Dollar, Flintlock, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Grace Jones, It Bites, Malcolm McLaren, Nik Kershaw, Propaganda, Rush, Rik Mayall, Stephen Duffy, and Yes. In 1987, he settled in Jerusalem to immerse himself in the study of Torah. His two Torah books The Color of Heaven, on the weekly Torah portion, and Seasons of the Moon met with great critical acclaim. Seasons of the Moon, a unique fine-art black-and-white photography book combining poetry and Torah essays, has now sold out and is much sought as a collector's item fetching up to $250 for a mint copy. He is much in demand as an inspirational speaker both in Israel, Great Britain and the United States. He was Plenary Keynote Speaker at the Agudas Yisrael Convention, and Keynote Speaker at Project Inspire in 2018. Rabbi Sinclair lectures in Talmud and Jewish Philosophy at Ohr Somayach/Tannenbaum College of Judaic studies in Jerusalem and is a senior staff writer of the Torah internet publications Ohrnet and Torah Weekly. His articles have been published in The Jewish Observer, American Jewish Spirit, AJOP Newsletter, Zurich's Die Jüdische Zeitung, South African Jewish Report and many others. Rabbi Sinclair was born in London, and lives with his family in Jerusalem. He was educated at St. Anthony's Preparatory School in Hampstead, Clifton College, and Bristol University. A Project Of Ohr.Edu Questions? Comments? We'd Love To Hear From You At: Podcasts@Ohr.Edu https://podcasts.ohr.edu/

Founded in Chicago in 1914, the avant-garde journal the Little Review became a giant in the cause of modernism, publishing literature and art by luminaries such as T.S. Eliot, Djuna Barnes, William Butler Yeats, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, Pablo Picasso, Max Ernst, Gertrude Stein, Jean Toomer, William Carlos Williams, H.D., Amy Lowell, Marcel Duchamp, Joseph Stella, Hans Arp, Mina Loy, Emma Goldman, Wyndham Lewis, Hart Crane, Sherwood Anderson, and more. Perhaps most famously, the magazine published Joyce's Ulysses in serial form, causing a scandal and leading to a censorship trial that changed the course of literature. In this episode, Jacke talks to scholar Holly A. Baggett about her book Making No Compromise: Margaret Anderson, Jane Heap, and the Little Review, which tells the story of the two Midwestern women behind the Little Review, who were themselves iconoclastic rebels, living openly as lesbians and advocating for causes like anarchy, feminism, free love, and of course, groundbreaking literature and art. PLUS Phil Jones (Reading Samuel Johnson: Reception and Representation, 1750-1970) stops by to discuss his choice for the last book he will ever read. Additional listening: 600 Doctor Johnson! (with Phil Jones) 564 H.D. (with Lara Vetter) 165 Ezra Pound The music in this episode is by Gabriel Ruiz-Bernal. Learn more at gabrielruizbernal.com. Help support the show at patreon.com/literature or historyofliterature.com/donate. The History of Literature Podcast is a member of Lit Hub Radio and the Podglomerate Network. Learn more at thepodglomerate.com/historyofliterature. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A note about the work “Insult” from Martín Espada for the Michigan Quarterly Review's Winter 2025 Issue: “Insult” is about poet William Carlos Williams, and the drive to survive, even transcend the “insults” of our lives to carry out our work and make our voices heard. Williams was one of the twentieth century's most important poets, receiving the first National Book Award in Poetry in 1950 and the Pulitzer Prize in 1963. He was also a practicing physician in Rutherford and Paterson, New Jersey for four decades. In August 1952, Williams suffered a massive stroke that left his upper right side paralyzed. (The medical term is an “insult to the brain.”) He retired from medicine and spent two months hospitalized for depression from February to April 1953. His appointment as Consultant to the Library of Congress—today's Poet Laureate—was revoked after an FBI investigation into false charges that he was a communist. The organizations, affiliations, and publications listed in the poem come from the poet's declassified FBI file. I also quote a May 1953 postcard sent by Williams to Swarthmore College in search of a reading, typed with one good eye and the “wrong” hand. Williams would go on to produce some of his major work in the 1950s, including, “Asphodel, That Greeny Flower,” where he wrote: “It is difficult / to get the news from poems / yet men die miserably every day / for lack / of what is found there.” The postcard generated my poem, but so, too, did conversations and emails with friend and Williams biographer Paul Mariani.

Of all the great American Modernists, the poetry of Marianne Moore is perhaps the most idiosyncratic, even the most radical, of them all—no small feat in a group of friends and admirers that included Ezra Pound, T. S. Eliot, Wallace Stevens, William Carlos Williams, e. e. cummings, and HD. Moore's preferred form was a syllabic stanza bespoke to each poetic occasion, like the unique shell of each individual snail or paper nautilus, and often containing rhyme. In these stanzas, Moore hid behind her virtuosic performance of deflection and difficulty and, of course, revealed herself in it, much as one of her pet-subjects, the exotic animal-portrait, contained a self-portrait at its heart. In her poem on the jerboa, Moore contrasts the desert mouse's decorousness with the decadence of empire, and in so doing, distinguishes her ideal of true artistry—a vigorous, humble, and ultimately liberated response to one's natural and formal limitations—with a false art which oppresses the natural in service of the powerful. Wes & Erin discuss Marianne Moore's poem, “The Jerboa,” first published in 1932, and whether power and wealth might paradoxically prove less abundant than the strictures of form and necessity.

Send us a textRobert Frost, Alfred Lord Tennyson and William Carlos Williams hang their Christmas stockings and get a full serving of Versify rambling. Shorter than a usual episode. It's a Christmas miracle!

Lords: * Tyriq * Alex Topics: * Trying to superficially familiarize myself with every country * The log burner fan * https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/S68d58689db54401f9a434456881cbdfcf/4-Blade-Heat-Powered-Stove-Fan-Log-Wood-Burner-Eco-Friendly-Quiet-Fireplace-Fan-WinterWarm.jpg * Drilling this chair for ancient water * Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams, by Kenneth Koch * https://allpoetry.com/Variations-On-A-Theme-By-William-Carlos-Williams * Boichik bagels * Boxfish skeletons are wilder than seahorse skeletons Microtopics: * Saya Gray. * Least-favorite UFO 50 games. * Treating the city you live in as if you're a tourist. * Going to obscure corners of parking lots. * A way to have an adventure in real life. * The tiny squishy seal that's no longer in your back pocket. * Web sites that are nothing but quizzes. * Trying to name every country. * This Sporcle quiz's opinion about which disputed territories count as countries. * Feeling more worldly after you memorize the names of every country. * Learning katakana and then being annoyed when signs do katakana wrong. * The curse of perfect-pitch. * Corrupted Pitch. * Tuning your whole band to the same out of tune guitar. * Hearing sounds in your head but only the sounds you're also hearing with your ears. * Statw.gov hosting PDF reports of the US government's opinion of every country. * Dear diary, today I did a cool fishing trade with Norway. * The Four Guineas. * The Place Across the Woods. * A giant CPU heat sink in gunmetal black sitting on top of your wood burning stove. * Devices powered by ambient temperature differentials. * The spinning thing on the roof that looks like a macaroon. * Putting googly eyes on your turbine roof vents. * Whether Stirling Engines are useful for anything other than a demonstration of the principles of the Stirling Engine. * Fluids moving through spaces of different sizes. * Injection molded hollow chunky boys. * Extremely mundane time capsules. * A Chair for Scientists. * A giant plastic-encased garbage ravioli. * Entire ecosystems that have existed without light for thousands of years. * Your FEMA-approved disaster preparedness chair. * Sorting all the water molecules on earth from newest to oldest. * Artists' depictions of the Hadean Earth. * The biggest wettest comet in the universe. * Don Quixote, the sopping wet comet. * Free sharps, only used once! * Writing a piece for prepared guitar after your kid fills the guitar with crayons. * Unprepared Pianos. * Juicy cold March wind. * A fair-use parody. * AI analysis of poetry that completely misses the point. * Editing Wikipedia to say that Lil Jon went to Harvard. * List of Rivers in Togo. * What a Specific Guy! * Registering an account to vandalize Wikipedia every few months for years. * Supermarket bagels. * Boiling round bread in water with crustaceans from the Bronx. * Making your own water to make coffee with. * Where to get food-grade lye. * Pastrami lox. * Seahorse skeletons. * Every Platonic Solid Has a Fish. * Where babies breathe from. * Fish without ribcages. * Caltrops arranged into a fish. * Using a pufferfish skeleton as a fidget toy. * The pufferfish at the center of our solar system. * The kind of decoration you see in a lobster joint. * Tropes of the open ocean. * The guy preventing you from being able to find search results for the Atari game Toobin'. * The loudest drinks in the world. * The Toobin' zone in LEGO Dimensions. * Chucking whole unopened cans of beer from your inner tube.

Latino USA: A Cartoon History, Revised Edition (Hachette Book Group, 2024) escrito por Ilan Stavans e ilustrado por Lalo Alcaraz, enfrenta los desafíos de capturar las alegrías, los matices y las múltiples dimensiones de la cultura latina dentro del contexto del idioma inglés. En esta historia en forma de caricatura, Stavans busca combinar la solemnidad de literatura y la historia con la naturaleza inherentemente teatral y humorística de los cómics. Los temas abarcan a Colón, el Destino Manifiesto, el Álamo, William Carlos Williams, Desi Arnaz, West Side Story, Castro, Guevara, Neruda, García Márquez, el éxodo del Mariel y Selena, entre otros. Entrevista realizada por Jeffrey Herlihy-Mera, Catedrático de Humanidades, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Mayagüez y Annette Martínez-Iñesta, coordinadora del grupo focal de lenguaje del Instituto Nuevos Horizontes. Temas, estudiosos, libros y otros recursos mencionados en esta conversación: Para leer al pato Donald. Comunicación de masas y colonialismo y Heading South, Looking North: A Bilingual Journey por Ariel Dorfman. Spanglish: The Making of a New American Language por Ilan Stavans. Una Tanovic, Universidad de Massachusetts. Heidi Landecker, Chronicle of Higher Education. Baruch Vergara, artista, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Mayagüez. La Teagle Foundation apoya a actividades realizadas en español. La Mellon Foundation hace lo mismo, y recibe propuestas y realiza revisión a pares en español. Alan Lightman, Einstein's Dreams (conversaciones en español e inglés). UPR-M, Jewish on Campus / Cultura judía en Puerto Rico y el Caribe. Ceremonia para la Calle Luis Bravo Pardo, Mayagüez (“los primeros judíos no conversos en entrar a territorio español”). El judío mayagüezano: vida y obra de Luis Bravo Pardo, por Héctor Bravo Vick. Italo Calvino, Ciudades Invisibles. Uso de “X” en español e inglés. Academic Imperialism, por Jeffrey Herlihy-Mera y Héctor José Huyke. El inglés-centrismo en la cultura universitaria en EE.UU. Héctor José, Huyke, Gloria Anzaldúa, Cormac McCarthy. Reflexiones sobre la crítica de Natalia Bustos. Carlos Fuentes. Dante. Leonardo Sciascia. Lo que se puede contar con imágenes. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Latino USA: A Cartoon History, Revised Edition (Hachette Book Group, 2024) escrito por Ilan Stavans e ilustrado por Lalo Alcaraz, enfrenta los desafíos de capturar las alegrías, los matices y las múltiples dimensiones de la cultura latina dentro del contexto del idioma inglés. En esta historia en forma de caricatura, Stavans busca combinar la solemnidad de literatura y la historia con la naturaleza inherentemente teatral y humorística de los cómics. Los temas abarcan a Colón, el Destino Manifiesto, el Álamo, William Carlos Williams, Desi Arnaz, West Side Story, Castro, Guevara, Neruda, García Márquez, el éxodo del Mariel y Selena, entre otros. Entrevista realizada por Jeffrey Herlihy-Mera, Catedrático de Humanidades, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Mayagüez y Annette Martínez-Iñesta, coordinadora del grupo focal de lenguaje del Instituto Nuevos Horizontes. Temas, estudiosos, libros y otros recursos mencionados en esta conversación: Para leer al pato Donald. Comunicación de masas y colonialismo y Heading South, Looking North: A Bilingual Journey por Ariel Dorfman. Spanglish: The Making of a New American Language por Ilan Stavans. Una Tanovic, Universidad de Massachusetts. Heidi Landecker, Chronicle of Higher Education. Baruch Vergara, artista, Universidad de Puerto Rico-Mayagüez. La Teagle Foundation apoya a actividades realizadas en español. La Mellon Foundation hace lo mismo, y recibe propuestas y realiza revisión a pares en español. Alan Lightman, Einstein's Dreams (conversaciones en español e inglés). UPR-M, Jewish on Campus / Cultura judía en Puerto Rico y el Caribe. Ceremonia para la Calle Luis Bravo Pardo, Mayagüez (“los primeros judíos no conversos en entrar a territorio español”). El judío mayagüezano: vida y obra de Luis Bravo Pardo, por Héctor Bravo Vick. Italo Calvino, Ciudades Invisibles. Uso de “X” en español e inglés. Academic Imperialism, por Jeffrey Herlihy-Mera y Héctor José Huyke. El inglés-centrismo en la cultura universitaria en EE.UU. Héctor José, Huyke, Gloria Anzaldúa, Cormac McCarthy. Reflexiones sobre la crítica de Natalia Bustos. Carlos Fuentes. Dante. Leonardo Sciascia. Lo que se puede contar con imágenes. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Today's poem from Williams' late collection, Pictures from Brueghel, is an ekphrasis on the painting by the same name, and a lesson in disciplined observation. Happy reading. Get full access to The Daily Poem Podcast at dailypoempod.substack.com/subscribe

So, you're wondering how HD got that moniker? And no, we're not talking about high definition television. HD, also known as Hilda Doolittle, was an Imagist poet and novelist. She's known more in connection to other writers like Ezra Pound and William Carlos Williams and for an unfortunate kink incident involving early psychologist Havelock Ellis.Continue reading "The Goddess of Imagism – Ep.49"

Today's poem is from "Spring and All" by William Carlos Williams. The Slowdown is your daily poetry ritual. It's fall, and that means “back-to-school”. We put together this week's episodes for the educators in our audience — especially those of you who may be looking for a little Slowdown treatment on those classroom classics, from Shakespeare to Frost. We hope you all enjoy these selections, as learners of any age. In this episode, Major writes… “Time is the river that never dries up, that is always in motion. Yet, cycles of elections and global conflict appear as if we are going through the same debates and battles again. For sanity's sake, it helps to remind myself that we are always moving forward, that change is real even if it seems elusive.” Celebrate the power of poems with a gift to The Slowdown today. Every donation makes a difference: https://tinyurl.com/rjm4synp

Read by Sara McBride Production and Sound Design by Kevin Seaman

Amanda Holmes reads William Carlos Williams's “The Last Words of My English Grandmother.” Have a suggestion for a poem by a (dead) writer? Email us: podcast@theamericanscholar.org. If we select your entry, you'll win a copy of a poetry collection edited by David Lehman.This episode was produced by Stephanie Bastek and features the song “Canvasback” by Chad Crouch. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Recorded by Academy of American Poets staff for Poem-a-Day, a series produced by the Academy of American Poets. Published on July 21, 2024. www.poets.org

Just when you thought you were out, The Daily Poem pulls you back in–to poems about movies. Today's charming and earnest poem imitates the medium it describes (film) by swapping memorable images and sensations for linear propositions. Happy reading.Amy Clampitt was born and raised in New Providence, Iowa. She studied first at Grinnell College in Grinnell, Iowa, and later at Columbia University and the New School for Social Research in New York City. Throughout the 1940s and 1950s, Clampitt held various jobs at publishers and organizations such as Oxford University Press and the Audubon Society. In the 1960s, she turned her attention to poetry. In 1974 she published a small volume of poetry titled Multitudes, Multitudes; thereafter her work appeared frequently in the New Yorker. Upon the publication of her book of poems The Kingfisher in 1983, she became one of the most highly regarded poets in America. Her other collections include A Silence Opens (1994), Westward (1990), What the Light Was Like (1985), and Archaic Figure (1987). Clampitt received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation, the MacArthur Foundation, and the Academy of American Poets. A member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, Clampitt taught at the College of William and Mary, Amherst College, and Smith College.Joseph Parisi, a Chicago Tribune Book World reviewer, called the poet's sudden success after the publication of The Kingfisher “one of the most stunning debuts in recent memory.” Parisi continued, “throughout this bountiful book, her wit, sensibility and stylish wordplay seldom disappoint.” In one of the first articles to appear after The Kingfisher's debut, New York Review of Books critic Helen Vendler wrote that “Amy Clampitt writes a beautiful, taxing poetry. In it, thinking uncoils and coils again, embodying its perpetua argument with itself.” Georgia Review contributor Peter Stitt also felt that “The Kingfisher is … in many ways an almost dazzling performance.” In the Observer, Peter Porter described Clampitt as “a virtuoso of the here and the palpable.” Porter ranked her with the likes of Emily Dickinson and Elizabeth Bishop.Critics praised the allusive richness and syntactical sophistication of Clampitt's verse. Her poetry is characterized by a “baroque profusion, the romance of the adjective, labyrinthine syntax, a festival lexicon,” said New York Times Book Review contributor Alfred Corn in an article about Clampitt's second important collection, What the Light Was Like (1985). Indeed, the poet's use of vocabulary and syntax is elaborate. “When you read Amy Clampitt,” suggests Richard Tillinghast in the New York Times Book Review, “have a dictionary or two at your elbow.” The poet has, Tillinghast continues, a “virtuoso command of vocabulary, [a] gift for playing the English language like a musical instrument and [a] startling and delightful ability to create metaphor.” Her ability as a poet quickly gained Clampitt recognition as “the most refreshing new American poet to appear in many years,” according to one Times Literary Supplement reviewer.Clampitt's work is also characterized by erudite allusions, for which she provides detailed footnotes. Times Literary Supplement critic Lachlan Mackinnon compared her “finical accuracy of description and the provision of copious notes at the end of a volume,” to a similar tendency in the work of Marianne Moore. “She is as ‘literary' and allusive as Eliot and Pound, as filled with grubby realia as William Carlos Williams, as ornamented as Wallace Stevens and as descriptive as Marianne Moore,” observed Corn. Washington Post reviewer Joel Conarroe added Walt Whitman and Hart Crane to this list of comparable poets: “Like Whitman, she is attracted to proliferating lists as well as to ‘the old thought of likenesses,'” wrote Conarroe. “And as in Crane her compressed images create multiple resonances of sound and sense.”What the Light Was Like centers around images of light and darkness. This book is “more chastely restrained than The Kingfisher,” according to Times Literary Supplement contributor Neil Corcoran. Conarroe believed that the poet's “own imagery throughout [the book] is sensuous (even lush) and specific—in short, Keatsian.” Corn similarly commented that “there are stirring moments in each poem, and an authentic sense of Keats' psychology.” He opined, however, that “her sequence [‘Voyages: A Homage to John Keats‘] isn't effective throughout, the reason no doubt being that her high-lyric mode” does not suit narrative as well as a plainer style would.Clampitt's Archaic Figure (1987) maintains her “idiosyncratic style,” as William Logan called it in the Chicago Tribune. New York Times Book Review contributor Mark Rudman noted the poet's “spontaneity and humor; she is quick to react, hasty, impulsive, responsive to place—and to space.” In the London Sunday Times, David Profumo further praised Archaic Figure. Taking the example of the poem “Hippocrene,” the critic asserted that this work “demonstrates her new powers of economy, the sureness of her rhythmic touch and the sheer readability of her magnificent narrative skills.” “Amy Clampitt,” concluded Logan, “has become one of our poetry's necessary imaginations.”Clampitt died in Lenox, Massachusetts in 1994. Get full access to The Daily Poem Podcast at dailypoempod.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode we will be discussing William Carlos Williams, and the movements that influenced his writings and vice versa. We will as well be talking about poets and writers he knew that influenced him, and a quick case study on a poem about his stealing of a plum.

Welcome to Exploring Art Podcast, FIU's student podcast for the creatively curious! I'm Angelica Acosta, with me are Sofia Andreoli and Joel Lopez. This time around, we will dissect William Carlos Williams' famous poem “This is just to say.” We will explore the background of the poem, Williams' innovative way and his relationships with both Modernism and Imagism. Additionally the concept of found poetry will be discussed. Prepare to be intrigued by the questions presented and amazed by the resolutions.  Tune in for an insightful discussion celebrating the beauty in everyday moments turned into art. Subscribe to Exploring Art Podcast on iTunes, Spotify, Soundcloud, or wherever you get your podcasts. Stay curious!

This episode dives into the poets life and impactinto the imagist movement and a analyzing ofhis poem “This is just to say”. Music Credit -Paint the Town Red

Listen to Episode 792 of the "Exploring Art Podcast" with hosts Sabrina, Luna, and Paulos from Florida International University! We're exploring the imaginative brilliance of William Carlos Williams and his famous work "This Is Just To Say." Join us as we dive into Williams' past, unravel the meaning behind his famous poem, and take on a fascinating case study.

In today's episode, our host, Marlon Castillo, joined by Laura Rampin and Abigail Freis, will interview and discuss the life, works and literary significance of the American poet, William Carlos Williams. Join us as we embark on this case study of William's works, with a focus on his poem “This is Just to Say.”

This episode focuses on art and it's impact on the mundane and William Carlos Williams notable poem This is Just to Say. Join Larkin and Nika as they discuss the beauty of the imagist, modernist and DADA movements, and the idea of found art and poetry.

Today's poem features a failed resurrection and a response that spirals through all the customary stages of grief.Hilda Doolittle was born on September 10, 1886, in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. She attended Bryn Mawr College, where she was a classmate of Marianne Moore. Doolittle later enrolled at the University of Pennsylvania, where she befriended Ezra Pound and William Carlos Williams.H.D. published numerous books of poetry, including Flowering of the Rod (Oxford University Press, 1946); Red Roses From Bronze (Random House, 1932); Collected Poems of H.D. (Boni and Liveright, 1925); Hymen (H. Holt and Company, 1921); and the posthumously published Helen in Egypt (Grove Press, 1961). She was also the author of several works of prose, including Tribute to Freud (Pantheon, 1956).H.D.'s work is characterized by the intense strength of her images, economy of language, and use of classical mythology. Her poems did not receive widespread appreciation and acclaim during her lifetime, in part because her name was associated with the Imagist movement, even as her voice had outgrown the movement's boundaries, as evidenced by her book-length works, Trilogy and Helen in Egypt. Neglect of H.D. can also be attributed to her time, as many of her poems spoke to an audience which was unready to respond to the strong feminist principles articulated in her work. As Alicia Ostriker said in American Poetry Review, “H.D., by the end of her career, became not only the most gifted woman poet of our century, but one of the most original poets—the more I read her the more I think this—in our language.”H.D. died in Zurich, Switzerland, on September 27, 1961.-bio via Academy of American Poets Get full access to The Daily Poem Podcast at dailypoempod.substack.com/subscribe

Description: An immersive reading of Spring and All Poem XVI by William Carlos Williams with reflection on signs of illness, jaundice, liver failure, onomatopoeia and poetic apostrophe. Website:https://anauscultation.wordpress.com/ Work:Spring and All, Poem XVIBy William Carlos WilliamsO tonguelickingthe sore onher netherlipO toppled bellyO passionate cottonstuck withmatted hairelysian slobberfrom her mouthuponthe folded handkerchiefI can't die--moaned the oldjaundiced womanrolling hersaffron eyeballsI can't dieI can't dieReferences:Spring and All:https://www.amherst.edu/system/files/media/0881/Spring%2520and%2520All-WCW.pdf  orhttps://www.tatteredcover.com/book/9781513283029 William Carlos Williams: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/william-carlos-williams  Poetic Apostrophe: https://www.merriam-webster.com/grammar/apostrophe-literary-device-meaning Baughn RE, Musher DM. Secondary syphilitic lesions. Clin Microbiol Rev. 2005 Jan;18(1):205-16.Health Quality Ontario. In-home care for optimizing chronic disease management in the community: an evidence-based analysis. Ont Health Technol Assess Ser. 2013 Sep 1;13(5):1-65. NB Tattered Cover is a local Denver bookstore

Get in your big cars and pull out your old time-y type writers, because this week John and Ben are celebrating Easter by discussing “Spring and All” by William Carlos Williams. Topics of conversation include democracy and art, Williams' concept of the “Imagination”, Williams' vision of art and how it contrasts with his contemporaries, and Walter Benjamin. This episode is a little different than our usual fare–we're chatting about a non-narrative piece of work for the first time on the show– so things are definitely a little looser and kookier than usual. We hope you enjoy our conversation!

Poet, editor, translator, and critic Louis Simpson was born in Jamaica to Scottish and Russian parents. He moved to the United States when he was 17 to study at Columbia University. After his time in the army, and a brief period in France, Simpson worked as an editor in New York City before completing his PhD at Columbia. He taught at colleges such as Columbia University, the University of California, Berkeley, and the State University of New York at Stony Brook.A contemporary of confessional poets like Robert Lowell, John Berryman, and Sylvia Plath, Simpson's early work followed a familiar arc. In the New York Times Book Review, critic David Orr noted its highlights: “Simpson has followed a path lined with signposts sunk so deep in our nation's poetic terra firma that they've practically become part of the landscape. Those signposts declare that a poet born in or around the 1920s should (1) begin his career writing witty, ironic formal poems bearing the stamp of Eliot and Auden; then (2) abandon that formalism for a more 'natural' free verse approach, while (3) dabbling in surrealism; until (4) finally settling on social, conversational poems in the manner of a man speaking to men.” While Simpson's early books like The Arrivistes (1949) and A Dream of Governors (1959) show the influence of Auden, they also speak to his horrific experiences in World War II, where he served in the 101st Airborne Division and saw active duty in France, Belgium, and Germany. Simpson's intense formal control, at odds with the visceral details of soldiering, also earned him comparisons to Wilfred Owen. At the End of the Open Road (1963) won the Pulitzer Prize and marked a shift in Simpson's poetry as well. In this and later volumes, like Searching for the Ox (1976) and The Best Hour of the Night (1983), Simpson's simple diction and formally controlled verses reveal hidden layers of meaning.Simpson's lifelong expatriate status influenced his poetry, and he often uses the lives of ordinary Americans in order to critically investigate the myths the country tells itself. Though he occasionally revisits the West Indies of his childhood, he always keeps one foot in his adopted country. The outsider's perspective allows him to confront “the terror and beauty of life with a wry sense of humor and a mysterious sense of fate,” wrote Edward Hirsch of the Washington Post. Elsewhere Hirsch described Simpson's Pulitzer Prize-winning collection, At the End of the Open Road (1963), as “a sustained meditation on the American character,” noting, “The moral genius of this book is that it traverses the open road of American mythology and brings us back to ourselves; it sees us not as we wish to be but as we are.” Collected Poems (1988) and There You Are (1995) focus on the lives of everyday citizens, using simple diction and narratives to expose the bewildering reality of the American dream. Poet Mark Jarman hailed Simpson as “a poet of the American character and vernacular.”A noted scholar and critic, Simpson published a number of literary studies, including Ships Going Into the Blue: Essays and Notes on Poetry (1994), The Character of the Poet (1986), and Three on the Tower: The Lives and Works of Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot, and William Carlos Williams (1975). Simpson also penned a novel, Riverside Drive (1962), and the autobiographies The King My Father's Wreck (1994) and North of Jamaica (1972).Simpson's later work included The Owner of the House: New Collected Poems (2003), a collection that spans his 60-year career, and Struggling Times (2009). In addition to the Pulitzer Prize, Simpson received numerous awards and accolades, including the Prix de Rome, the Columbia Medal for Excellence, and fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation. He was a finalist for the prestigious Griffin International Poetry Award, and his translation of Modern Poets of France: A Bilingual Anthology (1997) won the Harold Morton Landon Translation Award.Simposon died in Setauket, New York in 2012.-bio via Poetry Foundation Get full access to The Daily Poem Podcast at dailypoempod.substack.com/subscribe

Today's poem from Ezra Pound (a poet with his own colorful history of exile) is after the style of Li Po, featured last week.Ezra Pound was born in Hailey, Idaho, on October 30, 1885. He completed two years of college at the University of Pennsylvania and earned a degree from Hamilton College in 1905. After teaching at Wabash College for two years, he travelled abroad to Spain, Italy, and London, where, as the literary executor of the scholar Ernest Fenellosa, he became interested in Japanese and Chinese poetry. He married Dorothy Shakespear in 1914 and became London editor of the Little Review in 1917.In 1924, Pound moved to Italy. During this period of voluntary exile, Pound became involved in Fascist politics and did not return to the United States until 1945, when he was arrested on charges of treason for broadcasting Fascist propaganda by radio to the United States during World War II. In 1946, he was acquitted, but was declared mentally ill and committed to St. Elizabeths Hospital in Washington, D.C. During his confinement, the jury of the Bollingen Prize for Poetry (which included a number of the most eminent writers of the time), decided to overlook Pound's political career in the interest of recognizing his poetic achievements, and awarded him the prize for the Pisan Cantos (New Directions, 1948). After continuous appeals from writers won his release from the hospital in 1958, Pound returned to Italy and settled in Venice, where he died, a semi-recluse, on November 1, 1972.Ezra Pound is generally considered the poet most responsible for defining and promoting a Modernist aesthetic in poetry. In the early teens of the twentieth century, he opened a seminal exchange of work and ideas between British and American writers, and was famous for the generosity with which he advanced the work of such major contemporaries as W. B. Yeats, Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, Marianne Moore, H. D., James Joyce, Ernest Hemingway, and especially T. S. Eliot.Pound's own significant contributions to poetry begin with his promulgation of Imagism, a movement in poetry that derived its technique from classical Chinese and Japanese poetry—stressing clarity, precision, and economy of language, and foregoing traditional rhyme and meter in order to, in Pound's words, “compose in the sequence of the musical phrase, not in the sequence of the metronome.” His later work, for nearly fifty years, focused on the encyclopedic epic poem he entitled The Cantos.-bio via American Academy of Poets Get full access to The Daily Poem Podcast at dailypoempod.substack.com/subscribe

"Let the red dawn surmise / What we shall do, / When the blue starlight dies / And all is through." This short poem, an epigraph to "The Yellow Sign," arguably the most memorable tale in Robert W. Chambers' 1895 collection The King in Yellow, encapsulates in four brief lines the affect that drives cosmic horror: the fearful sense of imminent annihilation. In the four stories JF and Phil discuss in this episode, this affect, which would inspire a thousand works of fiction in the twentieth century, emerges fully formed, dripping with the xanthous milk of Decadence. What's more, it is here given a symbol, a face, and a home in the Yellow Sign, the Pallid Mask of the Yellow King, and the lost land of Carcosa. Come one, come all. Join JF's upcoming course (https://mutations.blog/kubrick)on the films of Stanley Kubrick, starting March 28, 2024. Support us on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/weirdstudies). Buy the Weird Studies soundtrack, volumes 1 (https://pierre-yvesmartel.bandcamp.com/album/weird-studies-music-from-the-podcast-vol-1) and 2 (https://pierre-yvesmartel.bandcamp.com/album/weird-studies-music-from-the-podcast-vol-2), on Pierre-Yves Martel's Bandcamp (https://pierre-yvesmartel.bandcamp.com) page. Listen to Meredith Michael and Gabriel Lubell's podcast, Cosmophonia (https://cosmophonia.podbean.com/). Visit the Weird Studies Bookshop (https://bookshop.org/shop/weirdstudies) Find us on Discord (https://discord.com/invite/Jw22CHfGwp) Get the T-shirt design from Cotton Bureau (https://cottonbureau.com/products/can-o-content#/13435958/tee-men-standard-tee-vintage-black-tri-blend-s)! REFERENCES Robert W. Chambers, The King in Yellow (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9781840226447) Weird Studies, Episode 100 on John Carpenter films (https://www.weirdstudies.com/100) Algernon Blackwood, “The Man Who Found Out” (https://algernonblackwood.org/Z-files/The%20Man%20Who%20Found%20Out.pdf) Susannah Clarke, Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9781635576726) Walter Benjamin, “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (https://web.mit.edu/allanmc/www/benjamin.pdf) Annie Besant and Charles Leadbeater, Thought Forms (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9781909735996) Weird Studies, Episode 140 on “Spirited Away” (https://www.weirdstudies.com/140) Vladimir Nabokov, Think, Write, Speak (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9781101873700) Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (https://bookshop.org/a/18799/9780674986916) David Bentley Hart, “Angelic Monster” (https://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2017/10/angelic-monster) M. R. James, Oh, Whistle and I'll Come to you my Lad” (https://gutenberg.ca/ebooks/jamesmr-ohwhistle/jamesmr-ohwhistle-00-h.html) William Carlos Williams, The Red Wheelbarrow (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45502/the-red-wheelbarrow)

Our celebration of Women's History Month continues with Modernist poet Marianne Moore! Her life was varied and storied as she made her way from the the Midwest to the East Coast and through poetry, prose, and criticism. She surrounded herself with colorful characters as she explored the new landscape of American poetry, mentoring and inspiring the likes of William Carlos Williams, Elizabeth Bishop, and H.D! Also featuring tricorn hats, bathtub dinners, and children's books come to life! 

This time on AOPS, we discussed The Offspring in a wide-ranging conversation that touched on sincerity, unemployment, medical doctors, William Carlos Williams, fiscal conservatism, and—of course—self esteem vs. confidence. Our theme song is by Golden West Service, featuring Shreddie Vedder.

Episode 117: What the Nose Knows explores the olfactory element of our lives, as it is found in poetry and in the wild and perhaps in wild poetry. We have a variety of smell tests, some bad couplets, and a few wonderful poems by Crystal Wilkinson, William Carlos Williams, and Emily Dickinson. Follow your nose and let your ears enjoy this 1/2 hour of nasal knowing.

As Brittany and Jeannetta bring in the new year and season 2(!) of The Write Attention podcast, they discuss time, Susan Rich's craft essay on revision (link below), especially her thoughts on slow writing, how to connect inward to move revision forward and figuring out the start and the finish and what you're trying to say.    Show Notes Rest as Resistance, Tricia Hersey, https://thenapministry.com/ - nap people! Craft Essay for this Episode:  https://www.writing.ie/resources/its-not-how-you-write-its-how-you-re-write-the-art-and-craft-of-revision-susan-rich/  Maturing as a writer explored here in Episode #7: Place, Peculiarity & Persistence, https://writeattention.podbean.com/e/place-peculiarity-persistence/,  Episode #1, Show and Tell and Practice, https://writeattention.podbean.com/e/show-tell-practice/  Brenee Brown, Atlas of the Heart, https://brenebrown.com/book/atlas-of-the-heart/  William Carlos Williams famous quote: ‘no ideas but in things', https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/68731/william-carlos-williams-the-red-wheelbarrow Working your verbs in Matt Bell's Refuse to be Done, https://www.mattbell.com/refuse-to-be-done

Read by Terry Casburn Production and Sound Design by Kevin Seaman

"There is no optimistic blindness in Williams," wrote Randall Jarrell, "though there is a fresh gaiety, a stubborn or invincible joyousness."-via Poetry Foundation Get full access to The Daily Poem Podcast at dailypoempod.substack.com/subscribe

Read by Terry Casburn Production and Sound Design by Kevin Seaman

In today's poem, Marianne Moore (November 15, 1887 – February 5, 1972) gets candid about poetry itself.One of American literature's foremost poets, Marianne Moore's poetry is characterized by linguistic precision, keen and probing descriptions, and acute observations of people, places, animals, and art. Her poems often reflect her preoccupation with the relationships between the common and the uncommon, advocate discipline in both art and life, and espouse restraint, modesty, and humor. She frequently used animals as a central image to emphasize themes of independence, honesty, and the integration of art and nature. Moore's work is frequently grouped with poets such as H.D., T.S. Eliot, William Carlos Williams, Wallace Stevens, Ezra Pound, and, later, Elizabeth Bishop, to whom she was a friend and mentor. In his introduction to her Selected Poems (1935), Eliot wrote: “Living, the poet is carrying on that struggle for the maintenance of a living language, for the maintenance of its strength, its subtlety, for the preservation of quality of feeling, which must be kept up in every generation … Miss Moore is, I believe, one of those few who have done the language some service in my lifetime.”-bio via Poetry Foundation Get full access to The Daily Poem Podcast at dailypoempod.substack.com/subscribe

"Be specific. Show, don't tell. And it comes back to the five senses. If it's something we can touch, taste, scent, see, hear, then we're going to engage more deeply in the dream. And if it's an abstraction like beautiful or terrible, that's a kind of shorthand, and we lose a little bit of our connection with the reader every time we use an abstraction because beautiful is going to mean something slightly different to every different reader. And then you put another abstraction on that, terrible say, that's going to mean something different. Abstraction by abstraction, a degree at a time, two or three degrees at a time, finally you're 180 degrees away from the reader. Whereas if it's something specific, a yellow-handled phillips screwdriver with a bit of oil and the handles worn smooth from where the protagonist's father had done kitchen repair in their home 75 years before, falling off a ladder at the age of nine and breaking his neck...The specificity allows us to believe in the dream of the story. And that's what we as writers want the reader to be. We want to believe in the dream of the story. When we're not being specific as writers, it's because we are groping and grasping for the story. I think the best writing is the most specific writing, and there's this phenomenon as a writer when your story sags and you can't quite figure out what's gone wrong. You go back and look at it and wherever your best writing is, that's where the secret heart of the story is. That's where the story was trying to come up from below. And when you subconsciously were most engaged with it, you could see it, you could taste it, you could smell it, you could feel it, you could hear it.William Carlos Williams said, 'No ideas, but in things.' He said in five words what I just spent five minutes blathering about. No ideas, but in things. Don't tell me what something is. Show it to me. The meaning and the idea is in the image or in the sound, or in the taste."Rick Bass, a National Book Critics Circle Award finalist for his memoir Why I Came West, was born and raised in Texas, worked as a petroleum geologist in Mississippi, and has lived in Montana's Yaak Valley for almost three decades. His short fiction, which has appeared in The New Yorker, The Atlantic, Esquire, and The Paris Review, as well as numerous times in Best American Short Stories, has earned him The Story Prize, multiple O. Henry Awards and Pushcart Prizes in addition to NEA and Guggenheim fellowships.He's an organizer and speaker at Climate Aid: The Voice of the Forest, a fundraiser event to benefit the grassroots environmental movement of Protect Ancient Forests & The Montana Project. Featuring Maggie Rogers and more great performers and speakers. The evening will advance the efforts to protect the Black Ram forest by designating the region as the nation's first Climate Refuge. Portland, Maine, on Sunday, Oct. 15 at 7 p.m. ET, at the Merrill Auditorium. Tickets available at the Merrill's box office and online at PortTIX.com. www.rickbass.netwww.protectancientforests.orgwww.montanaproject.orgwww.PortTIX.comwww.creativeprocess.infowww.oneplanetpodcast.orgIG www.instagram.com/creativeprocesspodcast

Rick Bass, a National Book Critics Circle Award finalist for his memoir Why I Came West, was born and raised in Texas, worked as a petroleum geologist in Mississippi, and has lived in Montana's Yaak Valley for almost three decades. His short fiction, which has appeared in The New Yorker, The Atlantic, Esquire, and The Paris Review, as well as numerous times in Best American Short Stories, has earned him The Story Prize, multiple O. Henry Awards and Pushcart Prizes in addition to NEA and Guggenheim fellowships.He's an organizer and speaker at Climate Aid: The Voice of the Forest, a fundraiser event to benefit the grassroots environmental movement of Protect Ancient Forests & The Montana Project. Featuring Maggie Rogers and more great performers and speakers. The evening will advance the efforts to protect the Black Ram forest by designating the region as the nation's first Climate Refuge. Portland, Maine, on Sunday, Oct. 15 at 7 p.m. ET, at the Merrill Auditorium. Tickets available at the Merrill's box office and online at PortTIX.com. "Be specific. Show, don't tell. And it comes back to the five senses. If it's something we can touch, taste, scent, see, hear, then we're going to engage more deeply in the dream. And if it's an abstraction like beautiful or terrible, that's a kind of shorthand, and we lose a little bit of our connection with the reader every time we use an abstraction because beautiful is going to mean something slightly different to every different reader. And then you put another abstraction on that, terrible say, that's going to mean something different. Abstraction by abstraction, a degree at a time, two or three degrees at a time, finally you're 180 degrees away from the reader. Whereas if it's something specific, a yellow-handled phillips screwdriver with a bit of oil and the handles worn smooth from where the protagonist's father had done kitchen repair in their home 75 years before, falling off a ladder at the age of nine and breaking his neck...The specificity allows us to believe in the dream of the story. And that's what we as writers want the reader to be. We want to believe in the dream of the story. When we're not being specific as writers, it's because we are groping and grasping for the story. I think the best writing is the most specific writing, and there's this phenomenon as a writer when your story sags and you can't quite figure out what's gone wrong. You go back and look at it and wherever your best writing is, that's where the secret heart of the story is. That's where the story was trying to come up from below. And when you subconsciously were most engaged with it, you could see it, you could taste it, you could smell it, you could feel it, you could hear it.William Carlos Williams said, 'No ideas, but in things.' He said in five words what I just spent five minutes blathering about. No ideas, but in things. Don't tell me what something is. Show it to me. The meaning and the idea is in the image or in the sound, or in the taste."www.rickbass.netwww.protectancientforests.orgwww.montanaproject.orgwww.PortTIX.comwww.creativeprocess.infowww.oneplanetpodcast.orgIG www.instagram.com/creativeprocesspodcast

Terrance Hayes talks about fatherhood, witnessing, and getting a D in high school English.Support Breaking Form!Review the show on Apple Podcasts here.  Buy our books:Aaron's STOP LYING is available from the Pitt Poetry Series. Publisher's Weekly calls the book "visceral, tender, and compassionate."James's ROMANTIC COMEDY is available from Four Way Books. Writing in Lit Hub, Rebecca Morgan Frank says the poems have "a gift for telling stories . . .  in acts of queer survival." Please consider buying your books from Bluestockings Cooperative, a feminist and queer indie bookselling coop. You can buy Terrance's books from them:So to Speak: Poems Watch Your Language: Visual and Literary Reflections on a Century of American PoetryTwentieth- Century American Poetry is the 2004 guide and reference book published by Christopher MacGowan, a leading scholar on William Carlos Williams.Read "Looking for Jonathan" by Jon Anderson, the title poem from his 1968 volume, and read more about the poet here. Norman Dubie died in February. He was an Aries (April 10, 1945) . Read his poem "An Annual of the Dark Physics."  You can watch him read his poem "The Sparrow" here. (~3.5 min)Read Steve Orlen's poem "In the House of the Voice of Maria Callas." Russell Westbank III plays basketball for the LA Clippers. The “Clippers” were named in 1978, when the franchise moved from Buffalo to San Diego, to represent the sailing ships in the bay; a “clipper” is a merchant sailing ship. The team kept the name when they moved to L.A. in 1984.Psuedacris Crucifer is the scientific name of a small chorus frog, also known as the spring peeper. Terrance's poem of the same name appears here in The New Yorker.Read Wanda Coleman's "American Sonnet 91" and buy her book of sonnets, Heart First into this Ruin: The Complete American Sonnets, with intro by Mahogany L. Browne.