Verbatim

"[A] falling down house filled with spiders and moths, a tiny cement backyard, a home of eccentricity, three cats and a dog, a place where great love flourished for a while, and also later a place of great unhappiness."

Michael Lithgow on the memories triggered by the smell of lilacs.

"Moth"

A poem by Michael Lithgow.

Putting Heads Together

Last week, I visited the Word and picked up, among other things, a copy of Rutting Season, a "mini-anthology" by Montreal micro-publisher Buffalo Runs Press. The concept is super-simple: a generous selection of poems by three young poets -- in this case, Ariel Gordon, Michael Lithgow and Linda Besner -- bookended by some shop talk as the poets discuss each other's work. I'll admit to some bias as we're publishing Linda Besner's first book in 2011, but the other poets (new to me) were definitely worth my time.