Mary Jo Bang
A snow lark hovers over the isolated Isle of the Dead A shadow on the beach is an echo of Venus who bestows upon me some ripened red fruit In this isolated moment waves produce a dream that seduces me
A snow lark hovers over the isolated Isle of the Dead A shadow on the beach is an echo of Venus who bestows upon me some ripened red fruit In this isolated moment waves produce a dream that seduces me
In any narrative, facts are present or not. One might assume the more facts, the better the constructed history, since facts are meant to reflect what can’t be computed by storytelling alone, which is said to be subjective and therefore inaccurate.
In anticipation of the 2012 Poets Forum, our friends at the Academy of American Poets will conduct a series of six-question interviews featuring six different poets leading up to their event this month, October 18–20. BOMB is excited to be able to share the first interview in this series, a conversation with Mary Jo Bang.
“The banners of the King of Hell come forth,”
My teacher said, “and straight at us.
Look ahead and see if you can see him.”
Mary Jo Bang’s poems are full of elbows and sharp, uncomfortable angles. She skillfully delves into the harsh crevices of life and mind and illuminates them with her alliterative, controlled verse.
