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I asked Kaminsky if it were possible for him to talk about how he hears his own poems and others’. In his head? His answer could have been given only by a real poet: “Not in the head so much as in the shoulders, legs, hands, chest, brows, ears, hair. You know. Exactly the same way you feel when you read poems that make you go nuts.

San Diego Reader | Tie This Guy Up, Make Sure He Stays at SDSU - Thomas Lux, under whose wing I am privileged to have studied, interviews Ilya Kaminsky, a poet from Odessa. My girlfriend recently had the pleasure of attending Kaminsky’s class at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival, and like Lux, she raved about him.

I love his answer to how poetry affects the reader.

The Lesson

I was young when my father called me to the back door
to show me the brain of the white-tailed deer

he had shot and had been flaying
in the garage. He had hacksawed off

the skull’s cap to save the antlers, which he would nail,
once the little flap of hide had peeled away,

beside the others on the wall. The brain
was smallish, wrinkled, gelatin; it oozed

into the board he’d laid it on. He touched it lightly
with his hunting knife, and caused a little slit

to open around the knife’s tip. I wondered
if anything remained: the detailed sketches

of each rise and crevice of the hills; the language
of scent and gesture; the image of my father

as he raised his gun and fired. We stood
in silence, the mute brain congealing between us,

my father holding it toward me as if to say,
Look, son, this is the world.

Anhinga Press: Snowbound House, by Shane Seely : Absolutely breathtaking poetry.