Usher: Poems


I've just read B. H. Fairchild's new collection, Usher. You'll want to read it, too. Just a couple of favorite moments:

From "Wittgenstein, Dying":

                                            The way a sentence is a story. It is raining.

                                            Something happens, as the case may be, to something

                                            of a certain kind and in a certain way.


From "Bloom School":

                                            Nothing is everywhere: doorless doorways,

                                            dirt filled foundations, and weed-pocked

                                            sidewalks leading to a sky that blued

                                            the eyes of bored students stupefied

                                            by geometry and Caesar's Latin.


Here's Mr. Fairchild reading "The Gray Man" from Usher.  (And I love the Edward Hopper book jacket!)

And here's a bonus for those f you who haven't read it.  This is the finest writing about baseball I've ever read. And, of course, it's about so much more than baseball. "Body and Soul."