The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
Just when it has seemed I couldn’t bear one more friend waking with a tumor, one more maniac with a perfect reason, often a sweetness has come and changed nothing in the world except the way I stumbled through it, for a while lost in the ignorance of loving someone or something, the world shrunk... Read more »
It’s said they planted trees by graves to soak up spirits of the dead through roots into the growing wood. The favorite in the burial yards I knew was common juniper. One could do worse than pass into such a species. I like to think that when I’m gone the chemicals and yes the spirit... Read more »
It was always linguini between us. Linguini with white sauce, or red sauce, sauce with basil snatched from the garden, oregano rubbed between our palms, a single bay leaf adrift amidst plum tomatoes. Linguini with meatballs, sausage, a side of brascioli. Like lovers trying positions, we enjoyed it every way we could-artichokes, mushrooms, little neck... Read more »
Her voice is as lovely and delicate as a web. She describes how fragile they are, how they can die from a simple fall. Then she tells me about their burrows which are tidy and dry and decorated with silk. They are solitary, she tells me, and utterly mild, and when they are threatened they... Read more »
On the island where I was a child nearly everyone was retired, their fortunes already made. Death was around them the way water was around our streets. They taught me how to go fishing without catching fish; the tide’s breath was marked in notebooks they kept beneath their pillows. One old lady fed me chocolates... Read more »
In police procedurals they are dying all over town, the life ripped out of them, by gun, bumper, knife, hammer, dope, etcetera, and no clues at all. All through the book the calls come in: body found in bed, car, street, lake, park, garage, library, and someone goes out to look and write it down.... Read more »