reminds readers of this in her piece on poetry and chronically dying, recalling the importance to her of discovering the work of Julia Darling, who died in 2005: ‘The beauty of poetry is that when her poems were published in the early 2000s, she was helping me through my darkest days in 2016.’ You are supposed to be preparing me for my death, Mary Ruefle has written of poetry.
In m. nourbeSe philip’s Poetry Society Annual Lecture, published in these pages, we learn about the series of ‘recuperative and reparative acts’ by which philip created her book-length poem Zong!, a method of working with archival material that allowed language to release its dead. Those of us who attended philip’s lecture live online had the privilege of experiencing at first-hand (and participating in) the resurrection of these voices, through a collective reading of the text that merged with the disembodied, glitchy intimacy of the internet to summon a very real haunting. I will never forget it. ‘All space suddenly vanished’, writes Aleš Šteger (tr. Brian Henry) later in the issue, ‘It was the time of my ancestors, / Who circulated through me’.
Finally, dear phantom listeners (do not think you have to say anything back), I must share with you the news that this issue is my penultimate one; aft er five-plus years I will be stepping down from the editorship in the spring, leaving the magazine to gallop onwards (with plunging hoofs perhaps), to new pastures. The summer 2022 issue will find you in the tender embrace of guest editors Andre Bagoo and Richard Scott. I’ll miss you! x