
In the So-Called Open Sea

Sam’s my second child, and he’s a tornado. He walked at 10 months and climbed the bunk-bed ladder a few weeks later. He’s physical and strong-willed, much more so than our older son, Leo, who’s 9. Leo never hit anyone except sometimes me. By the time he was 3, his verbal skills were sharp, and if Leo got whacked by his friends, often he had provoked it by needing to have the last word. But distracted parents on the playground don’t always see the lead-up. They raise their heads when a blow is landed, and the hitter is instantly labeled: That’s the bad kid, we all think. Or, perhaps: That’s the bad parent.
Sep. 4, 2018
Maybe the poet’s most important function is to visit the world and report what is found—to make us all aware of things we fail to notice. Susie Meserve takes this role seriously in her debut collection, Little Prayers. It’s a book full of wistfulness. And of wisdom gained from friendship, music, marriage and parenthood. —David Roderick
“When Robert Frost defined a poem as being a “momentary stay against confusion,” he was referring to poems like those in Susie Meserve’s collection Little Prayers. These are poems of love, loss, and beauty, but more importantly, how these matter in a life where time is fleeting.” — Michelle Bonczek Evory, author of The Art of the Nipple
February 26, 2002
Everyone’s a critic? Maybe in New York. In Portland, it seems, everyone’s a writer. In fact, writing may be the city’s only true art form. For every local writer of national fame (Chuck Palahniuk, Ursula K. LeGuin, Tom Spanbauer, Whitney Otto, et al.) there are thousands of other budding scribes hitting open-mike nights, writing for small journals, self-publishing chapbooks or otherwise parking for hours on end at a cafe table with Powerbook or pen at hand…