Recently added articles from Harvard Review:
Editorial.(Editorial)
Jun 01, 2008; ... The economy is on everyone's mind these days, but it's helpful to remember that this isn't the first time and it won't be the last. I used to joke that every time I got a degree I found the country plunged into recession. It made finding work a little bit harder and meant that I had to do ...
What we kept.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> We kept the war under our skins we kept it in our hamstrings in our bones. We kept the war in our cereal bowls in our juice kept it in our first love standing in the porch light waiting to be kissed. We kept it close in the hems of our shirts our face cream kept it in ...
The tender wish to buy this world.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> The tender wish to buy this world. The shedding of leaves from the wallet of morning. Down low by the bridge in this city of money, I will take down this axe, shatter gently this greed. We are thinking of our heartfelt need, Our man, his brain dreaming atop the clean pillow. In ...
A sad harp.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> My little instrument, my denouement, Pass me through to this fine place of whimsy. I am dreaming in my head of heart, my heart then of my head. I am dreaming in my head of books, Of books now bent, their words destroyed. Are we thinking of this form as harm, we derelict, we ...
In the Pines.(Short story)
Jun 01, 2008; ... For the third time Alta was free. Freed of obligation and freed of men and freed of her home of ten years, a palm-log cabin with two dining rooms. She was seventy-four years old but she still felt like a young woman. Long ago she'd foreseen the day when time's advance would collapse her ...
Translated from the finnish by Lomas Herbert.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> One day I passed out of my body and went to look at the clock in the next room. It was ticking away like a mechanical heart. Back there my body was still breathing and my heart still beating like a clock wound to tick for a fixed time. I slipped back in my body ...
Melody hand to hand.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> We're moving again, the limbs sign to each other, deaf as flint but more articulate. Nor are they as unfeeling as shale which will turn under a foot, grumble among gravel, clatter out unmeaning when it falls The limb not only looks livelier, pinker or browner than ...
What the cat said.(Short story)
Jun 01, 2008; ... It was two in the morning when the cat spoke. It was raining again, great pale thunderclouds moving like ships through the sky. The bedroom flashed with white light. The children were eight and five years old, and earlier that evening they decided that they hated us. They had tried, for ...
The children.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> If the wind had been less gutsy in its unbindings, we'd know them better, the children or the afterimage of them: the teenage couple rapt inside the field after the rave has died and dispersed into corn, into cars, into the trashed curfew. We'd know them, the two who ...
In the beginning.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> we were cameras. We opened our eyes and dark leaves fluttered in the wind. We were little boxes into which the air deposited a barking dog, the taste of honeysuckle, the scent of something rotting in the shadows of a huge magnolia. There was the world and we ...
Nature.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> Half-joking, half-serious, seriously halved, I wanted to find Him in the empty sleeve of air surrounding the bell's clapper. Would He not be found there, hovering in the air prepared to carry sound? So many silly ideas the adolescent carries around. So many of us vowed ...
Trajectory.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> I waited to leave the leg, wandering everywhere, unfastened, drinking in sky, shattering everything. It was the war season. Where I aimed for was: there. (I was constantly making a point). I admired your deter- mination, torn from an inner syntax, all your gestures were ...
In the absence of predators.(Short story)
Jun 01, 2008; ... Driving north. I'm driving north, and I feel fine: Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire. Little towns drift past, charming, colonial places, saltbox architecture. I admire the church steeples and simple buildings--their wholesome austerity, their right angles and straight lines--but I ...
The anxiety of influence.(Poem)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> A long black jogger swings in off the street to splash his face in the sink and I watch the room become a sweet humid jungle. We crowd the Amazon at the watering hole, twitching our noses like wildebeests or buffalo, snorting, rooting out mates in the heat. I want to hump every ...
Search this world over.(Poem)
Jun 01, 2008; ... for John Engels <Pre> I went down to the St. James Infirmary, I saw my baby there She was stretched out on a long white table, so cold, so fine, so fair. Let her go, let her go, God bless her, wherever she may be She can search this world over, never find another man like me ...
A retiree reads Proust and Montaigne.(Hughie Lawson)(Marcel Proust and Michel de Montaigne)(Critical essay)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> We must reserve a back shop all our own, entirely free, in which to establish our real liberty and our principal retreat and solitude. --Montaigne, "Of Solitude" </Pre> My friend Hughie Lawson, having retired from teaching history at the college where I also taught, decided the ...
The ruse.(Short story)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... Beatrice was deciding whether or not to include her name on the sign-up sheet when it occurred to Walter B. there'd been a ruse. "There's been," said Walter B., suddenly out of breath, "a ruse." "Look!" said Beatrice, signing her name very carefully, "isn't my slot first-rate?" "Didn't ...
The word.(Short story)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... "Am I a Jew?" asked Beatrice. Walter B. looked worried. Hoping to distract her, he gave Beatrice a standing ovation. She giggled. She oiled, rouged, and curtsied, but she was not deterred. The humans rode past on their yellow bicycles. "Am I a Jew?" she shouted. The humans frowned and ...
Central street.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> Again and again it changes. First the shirtwaist houses torn down for parking lots as if the limbs of a body had been amputated or a wall had fallen away, opening lives to ruin. Then the flight of neighbors who landed in suburbs, other cities, leaving behind a trembling ...
Garden state harvest.(Poem)(Brief article)
Jun 01, 2008; ... <Pre> The vegetable stand's navy and yellow striped awning, like a disoriented wasp, already sluggishly yawning toward honeyed dreams of bedding into the eaves for winter, heaves into view at the south entrance to our development- poor relation of the fields and meadows that used to ...