The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
Our bodies, lucent under the bedclothes, fit tightly like the pieces of a broken terra-cotta vase now newly mended, smooth surfaces, no jagged edges visible. I’ve read that countries were so interlocked before tectonic heavings, when the ocean parted Mexico and Mauritania. Brazil’s shoulder was hoisted to Nigeria, Italy pressed Libya, Alaska lay so close... Read more »
We turned into the drive, and gravel flew up from the tires like sparks from a fire. So much to be done—the unpacking, the mail and papers…the grass needed mowing…. We climbed stiffly out of the car. The shut-off engine ticked as it cooled. And then we noticed the pear tree, the limbs so heavy... Read more »
the horoscope this morning really put me on my guard, sent the adrenalin coursing through my veins, as it predicted a crucial confrontation that would require all the will and ingenuity that i could muster … until i remembered i was looking at a week-old student newspaper.
I am always interested in the people in films who have just had a drink thrown in their faces. Sometimes they react with uncontrollable rage, but sometimes—my favorites—they do not change their expressions at all. Instead they raise a handkerchief or napkin and calmly dab at the offending liquid, as the hurler jumps to her... Read more »
I whispered, ‘I am too young,’ And then, ‘I am old enough’; Wherefore I threw a penny To find out if I might love. ‘Go and love, go and love, young man, If the lady be young and fair.’ Ay, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops of her hair. O... Read more »
I hate Mozart. Hate him with that healthy pleasure one feels when exasperation has crescendoed, when lungs, heart, throat, and voice explode at once: I hate that! — there’s bliss in this, rapture. My shrink tried to disabuse me, convinced I use Amadeus as a prop: Think further; your father perhaps? I won’t go back,... Read more »