Beholding Hope: A review of Jeffrey Levine’s At the Kinnegad Home for the Bewildered

Beholding Hope: A review of Jeffrey Levine’s At the Kinnegad Home for the Bewildered

In At the Kinnegad Home for the Bewildered, Levine begins his cinematic collection with the lifeblood line of the book in the second poem: “we know there is something more.” As he shifts in and out of the domestic and the divine in his poems, we feel a deep longing for kinship and connect with a speaker who is unabashed in his belief in what isn’t wholly known. Sometimes, we are located within a piece of art, and at other times, we are right in the middle of a myth or standing there, cooking in his kitchen.

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The Social Distance Reading Series

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Notes from Isolation

Notes from Isolation

All day I watch boats from the living room window. I do other things, of course, but I always come back to the boats—yachts, skiffs, catamarans. Occasionally, there’s even a dinghy, white or blue, with a small figure aboard, paddling madly.

I used to think there could be nothing lonelier than boating, but these days, I have reconsidered.

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Do-gooders

Do-gooders

Warm, radiant afternoon after days and days of rainy gloom,
the girls bursting with born-again good intention.
“I want to eat more vegetables. Carrots and broccoli and green beans,”
Giulia announces from her car seat.

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Green Mountains Review, based at Northern Vermont University, is an annual, award-winning literary magazine publishing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, literary essays, interviews, and book reviews by both well-known writers and promising newcomers.

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Beholding Hope: A review of Jeffrey Levine’s At the Kinnegad Home for the Bewildered

Review of LOST AND FOUND by Andrew Merton

In October of 2013 I received an email from Andrew Merton—a journalist, essayist, poet and professor Emeritus of English at the University of Hampshire. Although he and I were not acquainted, he’d stumbled across one of my poems and reached out to tell me he was intrigued. “I think you may feel a small shock of recognition when you read my own poem, “‘Snow,'” he wrote…

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West End

West End

I dropped my car off for service. It was seven in the morning, and they told me to go get a cup of coffee, that my car would be ready soon.

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Three Poems

Three Poems

It was easy to forgive prostitutes in Mexico, / in Amsterdam. Less easy was the money thrown around / On Avenida Presidente after driving down

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Goat and Spoons

Goat and Spoons

Goat was in her trunk, dying but still kicking. Every so often his hooves thumped against the seat backs then for agonizing minutes he’d lay still again.

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