Jed Myers
Jed Myers grew up in Philadelphia and studied poetry at Tufts University. While continuing to read and write poems, he studied medicine at Case Western Reserve and then trained in psychiatry at the University of Washington. He settled in Seattle, where he still maintains a private therapy practice and teaches in the UW Department of Psychiatry.
Myers began seeking publication after the events of September 11th, 2001. His first full-length collection, Watching the Perseids, which chronicles his father’s dying of a glioblastoma, won the Sacramento Poetry Center Book Award. He’s authored three chapbooks, including Dark’s Channels, chosen by Tyehimba Jess for the Iron Horse Literary Review Chapbook Award. Recognitions include Southern Indiana Review’s Mary C. Mohr Award, the Prime Number Magazine Award for Poetry, The Southeast Review’s Gearhart Poetry Prize, The Tishman Review’s Edna St. Vincent Millay Poetry Prize, and, in the UK, the McLellan Poetry Prize.
Poems have appeared in Prairie Schooner, Rattle, Poetry Northwest, Crab Orchard Review, The Summerset Review, Southern Poetry Review, Crab Creek Review, and elsewhere, including several anthologies. Two recent essays on poetry and medicine have appeared in JAMA. Jed Myers is Poetry Editor for the journal Bracken.
Read the Kirkus Review of The Marriage of Space and Time.
Read "Catch" from The Marriage of Space and Time and an interview with Jed on The Nervious Breakdown .
The Marriage of Space and Time: $16.00
|
|
|
Poem from The Marriage of Space and Time
Geometry of the Orbits
Did we speed up the stars? Night’s over, you’ve risen—what can I savor? Those high notes the birds utter usher a close. And the crocuses, already gone— have I shown you one? One dawn will be the last. The catch in my throat, a choke on the wind. We’re at the prow of a fast boat. Or the heart’s own sharp minute hand’s clicked past, nicking the larynx—a little clock joke. I did kiss the back of your neck. Its arc belongs to the long geometry of the orbits—there, the endlessness. And we are permitted peeks into the black behind each other’s irises.
