B.A. Van Sise

Life, for all its foibles, also has its little justices: you miss the bus and meet the lovely boy waiting for the next one. They hire somebody else and the company promptly folds.

Alfred Hitchcock, for his films of often understated horror, preferred a certain type: His movies were populated almost entirely by coolly elegant blonde actresses who, in spite of their aristocrat

To start, let us thank Nachoem Wijnberg for doing something rare in poetry. He admits openly what all poets know of themselves: that they are talentless, and their success unearned.

If you live in Poetry World, you’ve been hearing about Zeina Hashem Beck’s O for a while now.

The other day a new video emerged from Ukraine of shelling in an apartment project—reporters and grandmothers dash for cover as large, pressure-sucking booms roar through the cement canyon of the c

New York Journal of Book’s editor, Lisa Rojany, forbids its writers from the first person.

In the whimsical 1990 film L.A.

“Doubilet offers, in perfect drawings of light, a place and a moment where a bird can love a fish, the sky can love the sea and, for a brief instant, in a razor-thin place, we can all be ri

You’ve seen the meme.

A month ago, in the wake of the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians in Gaza and elsewhere, a poem rapidly gained the absolute and undivided attention of all of the poetry-loving world: fourt

“Do Something for Nothing is no real reflection of the magnanimity of the project behind it.

They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. But They aren’t here and They don’t matter, anyway. 

There is a large discussion in the world of poetry about how to proceed with the expanding legion of what are derisively called “Instagram poets,” as comers from all corners argue about whether or

"Every photo is almost a fiction or a dream,” wrote Sylvia Plachy, the longtime photographer for the Village Voice. If it's really good, it's another form of life."

For eleven years, Frank O'Hara worked a day job at the Museum of Modern Arts, writing poems during his lunch break.  

Jackson Pollock was a janitor and painted a little on the side.

“In the new Long Island, the one yet undiscovered, the one just now being born, the boys and the girls of the future can look at this beautiful book and know that even ghost stories can hav

“The raw sensuality, the winsome yen of her language and its ‘small gifts laden with love’s intentions’ leaves no doubt to the reader about the anonymous others she carries through the work