Biography of Laura Kasischke
Laura Kasischke (born 1961) is an American fiction writer and poet. She is best known for writing the novels Suspicious River, The Life Before Her Eyes and White Bird in a Blizzard, all of which have been adapted to film.
She was born at Grand Rapids, Michigan. Kasischke attended the University of Michigan (MFA 1987) and Columbia University. She lives in Chelsea, Michigan, with her husband and son.
She is also currently Allan Seager Collegiate Professor of English Language and Literature, and of the Residential College at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, Michigan.
Kasischke's literary works have been recognized and highlighted at Michigan State University in their Michigan Writers Series.
Her novel The Life Before Her Eyes is the basis for the film of the same name, directed by Vadim Perelman, and starring Uma Thurman and Evan Rachel Wood. Kasischke's work is particularly well received in France, where she is widely read in translation. Her novel A moi pour toujours (Be Mine) was published by Christian Bourgois, and was a national best seller.
Laura Kasischke Poems
The white bowls in the orderly cupboards filled with nothing. The sound
The truck that swerved to miss the stroller in which I slept. My mother turning from the laundry basket just in time to see me open the third-story window to call to the cat.
You've Come Back to Me
For G A small thing crawling toward me across this dark lawn. Bright eyes the only thing I'm sure I see.
One night from the other side of a motel wall made of nothing but sawdust and pink stuff, I
Two Men & a Truck
Once, I was as large as any living creature could be. I could lift the world and carry it from my breast to its bath.
The Second Death
So like the slow moss encroaching, this dark anxiety. In the bricks by now and all along
Small and panting mass Of moonlight and dampness on a log This glistening tumor, terrible frog
Recall the Carousel
Recall the carousel. Its round and round. Its pink lights blinking off and on. The children's faces painted garish colors against an institutional wall. And the genetics. The
Like silent naked monks huddled around an old tree stump, having spun themselves in the night out of thought and nothingness—
In this order
A tail, a torso, a tiny face. A longing, a journey, a deep belief. A spawning, a fissioning, a bit of tissue anchored to a psyche,
Hospital parking lot, April
Once there was a woman who laughed for years uncontrollably after a stroke. Once there was a child who woke after surgery to find his parents were impostors. These seagulls above the parking lot today, made of hurricane and ether, they
That dream of a cricket in the dark of the night at the foot of the gallows tree.
After Ken Burns
The beautiful plate I cracked in half as I wrapped it in tissue paper— as if the worship of a thing might be the thing that breaks it. This river, which is life, which is wayfaring. This river, which is also sky. This dipper, full of mind, which is
I thought we were playing a game in a forest that day. I ran as my mother chased me.
Like the human brain, which organizes
The swirls and shades of the bathroom tiles
Into faces, faces
Of exhaustion, of disdain. The
Virgin Mary in the toast of course
But also the penance in the pain, and the way
My mother invented
Plums and tissue paper, while