MICHAEL HOGAN was born in Newport, Rhode Island in 1943. He is the author of twenty-two books including novels, histories, social and political essays, short story collections and poetry. His work has received two Pushcart Prizes, an NEA Creative Writing Fellowship, a PEN Award, the Benjamin Franklin Award and the gold medal of the Mexican Geographical Society. His poetry is widely anthologized and appears in many textbooks. Hogan has worked as consultant for the Western States Arts Foundation, for the Poets in the Schools programs in Arizona, Colorado and California, and for the National Endowment for the Arts conducting writing workshops in prisons. For two decades he was head of the English Department at the prestigious American School of Guadalajara and, most recently, was Latin American Consultant to the State Department’s Office of Overseas Schools. He lives in Guadalajara with the textile artist Lucinda Mayo and their dog, Molly Malone.
“Hogan’s poems are virtually free of the ego and fake emotion, the public posturing and self-regard that infect so much recent poetry. For Hogan to undertake the poem is to undertake the possibility of radical transformation. The humility and compassion of his poems warm me when others leave me chilled to the bone. He rewards the reader with intelligence and warmth and a wide sweep of understanding.” Sam Hamill, American Poetry Review.
In memoriam Francis X. Hogan (1913-1974)
On Sunday mornings in March my father
would take a homemade kite broad as his back
...
After a night of rain
eucalyptus hangs heavy and redolent with damp breath.
Ground fog clings to unmown grasses in the park
where the dog bounds like a joyful shadow.
...
It is the time of the jacaranda
when streets are violet carpets
and venders call "Hay elotes! " in the early evening.
No reason to think this could not last forever
...
When the sun comes early
through eastern windows
and a single horsefly buzzsaws the air
it is then I rise from bed
...
A coyote paces the enclosure
his eyes looking toward the hills.
His paws had been stung by barbed wire, broken glass
until the pads were cracked and bloodied.
...