Books
Words of comfort
John Hendrickson lives in New York City, but the Front Range is where his life first began to take shape. Currently a senior editor...
No chasm to cross
If we’re to trust Thurston Moore, “Rock stars can’t be poets, which sucks.”
The line is from a poem by Moore titled “By The Lightswitch.”...
Erotic Whitman
I’ll never forget meeting the poet Aimee Herman on my first day of classes at Naropa University in the winter of 2008, in a workshop led by Maureen Owen, who famously co-directed the St. Mark’s Poetry Project in late-’70s Manhattan. Herman had wild hot-pink hair, ...
Confessions of an ex-evangelical
Erika Rae’s evangelist upbringing imprinted some unusual beliefs upon her. As a teenager, she believed demons were behind every accidental misstep, from rock ’n’ roll to forgetting your keys. In her memoir about how she ended up leaving behind her radical religion, ...
Sea change
The new nonfiction book Over the Seawall is about what writer Stephen Robert Miller terms “disastrous adaptation.” In a nutshell, that means the delusional...
This is going to hurt
Local poet Jade Lascelles doesn’t shrink from what she describes as “the collapsed moment, the moment of a brutality.” She approaches it, tries to...
Confronting the past
It’s difficult to imagine that Anthony Swofford, who once had sex with a girl in the same room as his dying brother and dined on greasy Waffle House food with a crack dealer and a couple of prostitutes, could become such a family man...
Finding the common struggle
Death has this way of opening doors, of showing the living paths they didn’t realize they could take.
“Mostly it is loss,” mused the German...
