Gail Wronsky, poet and translator, reflects on four decades of poems informed by classical texts and contemporary voices reaching deep into feminism, environmentalism, and mortality and condenses the experience:
“Love left to another’s mercy, what did I write of — infrared houses haunted by pasts, by families bitten with insanity? Something I wanted to be known. My fury appeased. What had hollowed out my belly, anesthetized my heart, perverted my scheming. Funeral flowers, removed from the tomb of the unknown listener, I buried with a simple wave. All this I wanted to be blinding and perceived.”