Author Archives: jillbpearlman

Marfa: The lightness and drollness of being

Posted on March 11, 2020 by jillbpearlman

Marfa.  Its name precedes it as an art-oasis in the Chihuahuan Texan desert. It has a certain droll quality – and might suggest such drollness is part of its very nature. One can’t help but wonder, “What the hell are we doing … Continue reading →

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Amurika, the Open Road

Posted on March 8, 2020 by jillbpearlman

The Canadian writer Dionne Brand says when you go on a trip, you leave the table, the book on the table, everything behind; the book and the table know you’ll be an entirely different person when you get back.   … Continue reading →

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Santa Fe, La Bella

Posted on March 3, 2020 by jillbpearlman

Sometimes you miss a place as you’re there, and you’ve never been there before. Or Santa Fe, as my mother might say, slayed me. It isn’t hard to say why. 1) on my way to AWP, the literary conference this … Continue reading →

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Everyday Life: Antidote to Political Poisons

Posted on February 16, 2020 by jillbpearlman

While making dinner — or reflecting excitedly on the importance of making dinner while sipping wine — I began to shape ideas that have been pressing on me during the week.  What had been expected and feared to happen in … Continue reading →

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The New Vertigo

Posted on January 26, 2020 by jillbpearlman

I like to write, but boy, do I have trouble at times settling down.  I love to write, even, but the other pole – the love of motion – makes it rough to sit at that desk.  I’ve got to … Continue reading →

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A Poem for 19 Days into the New Year

Posted on January 19, 2020 by jillbpearlman

19 Days into the New Year Time grows, after New Years, like a cauliflower– half handsome, half deformed, bloomingat its own isotropic rate.  On the 3rd we skatetowards war; a plane of travelers crashesin Iran; Down Under, animals, mostly sheep, … Continue reading →

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Dionysian 2020

Posted on January 1, 2020 by jillbpearlman

There is a phrase I toyed with in French many years ago: “le ciel, c’est assis sur mes sourcils.” The sky is sitting on my brows. That famous gray Paris sky was hovering close to my head during winters when … Continue reading →

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Immersed in Oswald’s Nobody

Posted on December 4, 2019 by jillbpearlman

I love the verbal incantation, the spell of words cast by poetry.   Our current social crisis, with its urgency and ER alarms, seems to overwhelm the lure of musical sound.   It’s no wonder that I love the power … Continue reading →

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Moscow Mania

Posted on October 30, 2019 by jillbpearlman

Moscow of eclectisms. Moscow of vast spaces. Moscow of KGB, and crossroads of empires, Moscow of mayonnaise salads. All those old things are still there, now layered with the new — Moscow of 100 open kitchens with tattooed chefs, young … Continue reading →

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Petersburg’s Fresh Waters

Posted on October 25, 2019 by jillbpearlman

Standing by the river Neva, wanting to compose poetry in St Petersburg, I couldn’t hear beyond the lines of great poets – Akhmatova, Blok, Tsvetaeva, Mandelstam. History dominates voice, especially in Russia. The Revolution, Stalin’s terrors, the siege, all produced … Continue reading →

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