A Wilderness I Wouldn’t Live Without: On Carl Phillips’s “Wild Is the Wind”

“WHAT’S THE WORD / for the kind of loneliness that can feel like swimming / unassisted in a foreign language, for the very first time?” This unanswerable question ends a poem in the middle of Carl Phillips’s new collection, Wild Is the Wind. Or perhaps the answer is: There is no one word. And perhaps […]

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