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Wisconsin People & Ideas

Recently, The New York Times published an opinion piece with the slightly misleading title “Poetry Died 100 Years Ago This Month,” ruffling the feathers of many poets and their readers.

The cover of this astonishing poetry collection features a woman rising out of a primordial gloom, her arms clawing the cracked walls of an ancient mikvah, the Jewish symbol of purification.

You don’t need to know anything about Maggie Ginsberg to adore her first novel. You don’t need to know that she’s a truly lovely person, warm and generous of spirit. The kind of person who offers her secrets to help you heal your own.

Debra Monroe’s writing is sneaky, and I mean that in a good way. In her new book of essays, the Flannery O’Connor award winner and author of six other books of fiction and nonfiction considers roughly 40 years of her life...

There can’t be many novels with titles shorter than the one that adorns Ink, Madison writer Angela Woodward’s third book of fiction; nor are there likely to be many novels in which short essays about the chemistry of ink (and the nature o

Winter mornings I walk outside before the world starts up again. An occasional car, the early bus with one person on it. Sometimes the wind hasn’t even started and the heat from the chimneys of all the sleepers rises up above the houses.

This isn’t a protest, you understand.Bonfire in May with wood that’s gone dry,we’re burning the things that cannot withstand.

It’s still a ways away. It’s going to go away, you know. It’s still there. It is, or it isn’t. It’s in the mail. It’s in the console. It’s the perfect fit. It’s me versus you. It’s something we can all look back to. It’s forward looking.

The border is never real. Imagined, invented, imposed,hardening space at the current confluence of cultures,away from the poles and centers, hinterlands holdingtheir own, identities carved out of contrast, distinct

Willie swung his hammer and missed, smacking his thumb. He mashed his lips together, trying not to swear. He considered the monastery on the hill, and the serenity of the valley where he knelt on top of a storage shed.

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