This conversation between James Atlas and Iris Murdoch, part of a collaboration between 92Y’s Unterberg Poetry Center and The Paris Review, was recorded live at 92Y on February 22, 1990.
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"The Purse-Seiner Atlantis"
Salon, April 2001
Black Pacific. 'Shahid, come here, quick.' A ship,giant lantern held in its own light, the darkleft untouched, a phantom-ship with birds, no, moths
Salon, November 2002
Why was a sole an only and a foot?Why was soul not solar, not solid?
Hand to Mouth
SummerStage, August 2003
It was the spring of my senior year, just weeks before I was supposed to graduate. Out of nowhere, a man turned up on the Columbia campus and started causing a stir
Salon, November 2001
Do you mock me, Musil?I have not read you yetnor you me . . .
Salon, December 2000
I forgot to tell you my husbanddied. He was in Spain and somethingstrange happened with alcohol or water. He loved themboth so much
They carried the lamps out as if they were children.Rugs were laid out on the grass, or beatenwith a shovel on the clothesline
Sat for three days in a white roomA tiny truck of white flowerswas driving through the empty window
"On Turning Ten"
Cipriani, October 2003
I evolved like many people from a gatecrasher at 72nd Street to an invited guest. That took about fifteen years, but I was finally accepted
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