T.R. Hummer is Professor of Creative Writing at Arizona State University and author of 10 books of poetry and prose, most recently The Infinity Sessions: Poems (LSU Press) and The Muse in the Machine: Essays on Poetry and the Anatomy of the Body Politic (University of Georgia Press). Recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship for poetry, a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship for poetry, the Hanes Poetry Prize, the Richard Wright Award for Literary Excellence, and two Pushcart Prizes, he is former editor of The Georgia Review, the New England Review, and The Kenyon Review.
The failing kidney is a portal — the leaky heart valve, the clot, the lesion in the brain: All doors unlocking themselves. Likewise outside the body: the razorblade, The bottle of barbiturates, the utility pole beside the curve in the icy highway, The rifle over the mantelpiece (it must go off). He understands the radio On the shelf by the bath in particular as a crystal hatchway, hermetically unsealing, Leading, after a prelude of unspectacular fireworks, to a region beyond The invention of the hinge and the hasp, where jamb and lintel are less Than ugly rumors, and nobody has a key to worry over, wear out, Misplace, twist off, or jangle obsessively.