Cellphoned to their continents, Pilgrims
from whatever persecution, kill those turkeys in
want, want, want, and the landing gear drops.
My mother’s mother used to say that it took four generations to get the black out.
Guernica Editors (via Editors’ Picks: Thanksgiving Reads - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics)
Grace Paley first came to me in a poem, a twenty-line charmer on lust and aging, slid across the table of a San Francisco dive. If that line reeks of sentimentality, it channels what Paley’sCollected Stories don’t. They’re wry (sometimes hilarious) odes to disappointment—full of families with mismatched needs and lovers that just sort of wander off. They brim with the resigned but restless wisdom of the disillusioned. If that sounds un-fun, it’s not; I’m thankful for their salty anchor and the little skiff that brought them to me.
—Reed Cooley, Guernica Editorial Intern