Robert Lowell wrote those two lines in his poem “Night Sweats.” It’s one of my faves (the full poem is below). It’s a love poem,
Author: Marcos McPeek Villatoro
I am a Double-American, Salvadoran from my mother, Appalachian Tennessee, Dad. I teach Creative Writing at Mount St. Mary's University in Los Angeles, am the author of six novels, a couple collections of poetry, and a memoir. I write on poetry, fiction, race issues, the Latino-American world, mental health and childhood trauma. Somehow it all mixes together in a fairly interesting soup.
Professor Dick Head
Professor Dick Head (his friends called him Richard) taught a literature class in my undergraduate college. He was a really smart guy. He had the
Our Demons and Our Words
1. Poetry born out of horror has a rough go of it. Some of the things we do to one another are so damaging, it’s
My Time In Iowa: A Final Reflection on Racism in Higher Education
After the last few articles on my time at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, I offer this reflection regarding MFA programs in creative writing, their ongoing
My Time in Iowa, Part 2: The Iowa Writers’ Workshop
Memory is a tricky thing, so I’m really glad I’ve kept journals for forty years. I’m a detailed chronicler—forty-five tomes, about 1, 480 pages of
My Time at Iowa, Part 1
In 1996, when we moved to Iowa, we had three kids in tow. Michelle and I had both resigned from decent paying jobs as community