Biography of Mark Halliday
Mark Halliday (born 1949 in Ann Arbor, Michigan) is a noted American poet, professor and critic. He is author of six collections of poetry, most recently "Thresherphobe" (University of Chicago Press, 2013) and Keep This Forever (Tupelo Press, 2008). His honors include serving as the 1994 poet in residence at The Frost Place, inclusion in several annual editions of The Best American Poetry series and of the Pushcart Prize anthology, receiving a 2006 Guggenheim Fellowship, and winning the 2001 Rome Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
Halliday earned his B.A. (1971) and M.A. (1976) from Brown University, and his Ph.D. in English literature from Brandeis University in 1983, where he studied with poets Allen Grossman and Frank Bidart. He has taught English literature and writing at Wellesley College, the University of Pennsylvania, Western Michigan University, Indiana University. Since 1996, he has taught at Ohio University, where, in 2012, he was awarded the rank of distinguished professor. He is married to J. Allyn Rosser.
Mark Halliday Poems
In the huddle you said "Go long—get open" and at the snap I took off along the right sideline and then cut across left in a long arc and I'm sure I was open at several points—
They got old, they got old and died. But first— okay but first they composed plangent depictions of how much they lost and how much cared about losing.
For example, I wrote my first poem in 1976 about being in the Vermont house after my mother's death; she died the year before; she loved that house. My father said he kept having moments
In the last year of my marriage, among a hundred other symptoms I wrote a poem called 'The Woman across the Shaft'—she was someone
Why the HG is Holy
The Holy Ghost was browsing in his or her library one day in the future, unaccountably bored, oddly querulous, vaguely wanting something that would be
Time in a Brown House
Sam paused on the stairs. He had forgotten a thing. In Leland's room a copy of Thomas Merton lay on the floor. The air was full of gnats of possibility. What was the story?
Pathos of the Momentary Smile
Like nearly all women under sixty she would have deftly avoided meeting the eyes of an unknown man—
I find I am descending in a propeller plane upon Pasco in the state of Washington. I accept this; I have reasons for participating in the experiential sequence
La Marquise de Gloire
Though it's all too clear how unimpressed you are by a cri de cœur and wafting away unhugged is from your perspective de rigueur of schemes to rendezvous with you I'm still a restless entrepreneur
Comstock stands in the densely odorous kitchen sniffing Mrs. Yapp's squab pies. His hunger makes him wide awake and he can imagine Mrs. Yapp
Five more books in a box to be carried out to the car; your office door closes behind you and at that moment you turn invisible—not even a ghost in that hall
Divorced Fathers and Pizza Crusts
The connection between divorced fathers and pizza crusts is understandable. The divorced father does not cook confidently. He wants his kid to enjoy dinner.
Key To The Highway
I remember riding somewhere in a fast car with my brother and his friend Jack Brooks and we were listening to Layla & Other Love Songs
The students eat something and then watch the news, a little, then go to sleep. When morning breaks in they find they have not forgotten all: they recall the speckle of words on certain pages of
The students eat something and then watch the news,
a little, then go to sleep. When morning breaks in
they find they have not forgotten all: they recall
the speckle of words on certain pages of
the chapter assigned, a phrase of strange weight
from a chapter that was not assigned, and something
said almost flippantly by a classmate on the Green
which put much of the 18th century into perspective.
Noticing themselves at the sink they are aware