Chard deNiord

Chard deNiord is the author of seven books of poetry, most recently In My Unknowing (University of Pittsburgh Press 2020) and Interstate (U. of Pittsburgh, 2015). He is also the author of two books of interviews with eminent American poets titled Sad Friends, Drowned Lovers, Stapled Songs, Conversations and Reflections on 20th Century Poetry (Marick Press, 2011) and I Would Lie To You If I Could  (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2018). He co-founded the New England College MFA program in 2001 and the Ruth Stone Foundation in 2011. He served as poet laureate of Vermont from 2015 to 2019 and taught English and Creative Writing for twenty-two years at Providence College, where is now a Professor Emeritus. He lives in Westminster West, Vt. with his wife, the painter, Liz Hawkes deNiord.
  • Dispatches From Lviv, A Conversation With Halyna Kruk, Dzvinia Orlowsky, Ali Kinsella, and Chard deNiord

    Dzvinia and Ali, your upcoming collaborative book, Lost in Living, featuring translations of Halyna Kruk’s poetry, and for which you've just been granted a 2024 National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship, is set for release in spring 2024 through Lost Horse Press.
    Plume Issue #150 February 2024
  • deNiord | Hall

    Clay dogs on the mantle. Bear
  • From AfterTalk

    Dumuzi spoke: “My sister, I would go with you to my garden
  • The Poetic “Engine” in Flannery O’Connor’s Fiction by Chard deNiord

    After reading and teaching Flannery O'Connor’s stories for decades, along with having grown up myself in the South in a town not that dissimilar from O’Connor’s hometown of Milledgeville, Georgia, I developed a deep appreciation for both the creative and theological genius in O’Connor’s fiction, particularly her incisive use of irony and paradox in rural, unsophisticated settings.
    Issue #141 May 2023
  • The Light That Shines Out of the Marble by Chard DeNiord

    THE LIGHT THAT SHINES OUT OF THE MARBLE       In his visionary classic, The Marriage of Heaven and…

    Issue #133 September 2022
  • The Book of Guests

    They gamboled toward me on the plain—two lambs
  • Some Thoughts on the Sublime Irony of Nothing and the Divine Imagination by Chard DeNiord

    SOME THOUGHTS ON THE SUBLIME IRONY OF NOTHING AND THE DIVINE IMAGINATION                      “The most sublime act is…

    Issue #121 September 2021
  • The Widow at Point Reyes and Broncoscopy

    She sat for an hour watching 10,000 tiny silver fish
  • From Lewisburg to Syracuse: An interview with Bruce Smith by Chard deNiord

    By June, by muggy, iffy June of 1968 I had received a draft notice
    Issue #108 August 2020
  • “But They Have Dwindled,” Rethinking Wordsworth’s “Resolution And Independence” As A Modern Day Cautionary Tale by Chard DeNiord

    In one of his most profound existential poems, “Resolution and Independence
    Issue #104 April 2020
  • BLURRED LINES, SOME THOUGHTS ON HYBRID, LIMINAL, AND PROSE POETRY

    In his poem “In the Evening Air,” Theodor Roethke declares, “I’ll make a broken music or I’ll die.”
    Issue #100 December 2019
  • Suspense, Suspension, and the Sublime in the Poetry of Robert Frost

    Suspense, Suspension, and the Sublime in the Poetry of Robert Frost     Robert Frost was a sublime poet who…

    Issue #97 September 2019
  • The Other by Chard DeNiord

    THE OTHER In his great book The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, William Blake records some of his wisest lines…

    Issue #90 February 2019
  • Can Poetry Save America by Chard DeNiord

    CAN POETRY SAVE AMERICA? Czelaw Milosz, the twentieth century Polish poet and Nobel laureate who became a U.S. citizen in…

    Issue #88 December 2018
  • Vesper

    The sky is blue for reasons other than atmospheric ones.
  • AT THE SLEEP CLINIC

    I sat in the parking lot of the sleep clinic
  • Chard deNiord: SWIMMING IN THE DROWNED RIVER OF CONTEMPORARY AMERICAN POETRY

    As a poet, essayist, and interviewer for the past twenty five years, I have struggled with a compound question that…

    Issue #69 April 2017
  • THE DAY

    History sings “misery, misery.”
  • The Muse Writes Luis Jorge Borges A Letter On His 86th Birthday

    The night has entered your eyes