Biography of Lynn Emanuel
Lynn Collins Emanuel (born March 14, 1949) is an American poet. Some of her poetry collections include Then, Suddenly— and Noose and Hook (University of Pittsburgh Press).
She has received two grants from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Eric Matthieu King Award from the Academy of American Poets. She also won the 1992 National Poetry Series Open Competition for The Dig, and has been awarded a Pushcart Prize. Her poems have been published in literary magazines and journals including Parnassus, The American Poetry Review, Poetry, Boston Review, Harvard Review, The Hudson Review, Slate and Ploughshares, and in anthologies including The Best American Poetry anthologies in 1994, 1995, 1998, 1999, and 2000, and the Oxford Book of American Poetry (Oxford University Press, 2006).
Emanuel is Director of the Writing Program, and Director of the Pittsburgh Contemporary Writers Series, and a professor of English at the University of Pittsburgh. She has also taught at the Warren Wilson Program in Creative Writing, and the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. She is married to the anthropologist, Jeffrey H. Schwartz, and they reside in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Lynn Emanuel Poems
Inventing Father In Las Vegas
If I could see nothing but the smoke From the tip of his cigar, I would know everything About the years before the war. If his face were halved by shadow I would know
Inside Gertrude Stein
Right now as I am talking to you and as you are being talked to, without letup, it is becoming clear that gertrude stein has hijacked me and that this feeling that you are having now as you read this, that this is what it feels like to be inside
The Politics Of Narrative: Why I Am A Po...
Jill's a good kid who's had some tough luck. But that's another story. It's a day when the smell of fish from Tib's hash house is so strong you could build a garage on it. We are sit- ting in Izzy's where Carl has just built us a couple of solid
Homage To Sharon Stone
It's early morning. This is the "before," the world hanging around in its wrapper, blowzy, frumpy, doing nothing: my neighbors, hitching themselves to the roles
After I've goosed up the fire in the stove with Starter Logg so that it burns like fire on amphetamines; after it's imprisoned, screaming and thrashing, behind the stove door; after I've listened to the dead composers and watched the brown-plus-gray
The Planet Krypton
Outside the window the McGill smelter sent a red dust down on the smoking yards of copper, on the railroad tracks' frayed ends disappeared into the congestion of the afternoon. Ely lay dull
Dream in Which I Meet Myself
Even the butter's a block of sleazy light. I see that first, as though I am a dreary guest come to a dreary supper. On her table, its scrubbed deal trim and lonely as a cot, is food for one, and everything we've ever hated: a plate of pallid
The Planet Krypton
Outside the window the McGill smelter
sent a red dust down on the smoking yards of copper,
on the railroad tracks' frayed ends disappeared
into the congestion of the afternoon. Ely lay dull
and scuffed: a miner's boot toe worn away and dim,
while my mother knelt before the Philco to coax
the detonation from the static. From the Las Vegas
Tonapah Artillery and Gunnery Range the sound