Thank You Jeffrey Brown of PBS News Hour

Featured

Stephen Kuusisto to appear on PBS News Hour

Image: Logo of PBS News Hour

Tonight the PBS NewsHour will air a segment about my new book Have Dog, Will TravelThe piece features an interview with Jeffrey Brown whose reporting on literature and poetry is well known to book lovers across the nation. Jeffrey is also a poet whose first collection The News is available from Copper Canyon Press. In our time together we talked about poetry, civil rights, disability culture, dogs for the blind, the field of disability studies, and the power of literature to bring people together around social justice movements. And yes, there’s a lovely dog, Caitlyn, a sweetie pie yellow Labrador from Guiding Eyes for the Blind.

The program airs locally, in Syracuse at 7 PM. Check your local listings.

*****************************************************

Stephen Kuusisto and HarleyABOUT: Stephen Kuusisto is the author of the memoirs Have Dog, Will Travel; Planet of the Blind (a New York Times “Notable Book of the Year”); and Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening and of the poetry collections Only Bread, Only Light and Letters to Borges. A graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and a Fulbright Scholar, he has taught at the University of Iowa, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, and Ohio State University. He currently teaches at Syracuse University where he holds a University Professorship in Disability Studies. He is a frequent speaker in the US and abroad. His website is StephenKuusisto.com.

Have Dog, Will Travel: A Poet’s Journey is now available:
Amazon
Prairie Lights
Grammercy Books
Barnes and Noble
IndieBound.org

Have Dog, Will Travel by Stephen Kuusisto

(Photo picturing the cover of Stephen Kuusisto’s new memoir “Have Dog, Will Travel” along with his former guide dogs Nira (top) and Corky, bottom.) Bottom photo by Marion Ettlinger 

Alone in Boston, Guide Dog Notwithstanding

I’m alone with my guide dog Caitlyn in the back bay of Boston. Tonight we’ll take in a ball game at Fenway Park, home of the Red Sox. Dog and man going solo to a stadium. Sometimes in this blind life I worry in advance: how will it go? Will everything be OK? Will I find my seat? Will I find my way back to my seat after searching for a hot dog? Will strangers be helpful? Will I experience kindness? Then in occurs to me, these questions are ordinary—everyone has them, blindness or not. Will this day receive me? How will it go?

There’s a song by the late great Lou Reed that I like which has the refrain “it takes a bus load of faith to get by…” I’ve always liked Lou’s employment of “faith” which he offers with a hint of irony to be sure. A bus load of faith is a crowd’s worth of faith—we will get where we need to go without mishap. And we’ll manage it because we all had the proper thoughts. We kept that bus on the road with our individual and collective magic. Faith is hard work.

I think this is why I like to just take off and go places by myself. Or with just my dog for company, I feel the skin of my faith grow tighter. I step out into the unfamiliar. I’m alert to the mysteries of being alive and the sheer improbability of having a consciousness. I walk down Boyleston Street and feel how provisionally alive I am and how lucky. And I don’t know precisely where I’m going.

I’ve been teaching this week at a wonderful low residency creative writing MFA program called “Solstice” located at Pine Manor College in Chestnut Hills. As a nonfiction writer I’m often talking about the essay—how creative prose can help us shape experience, make sense of the blooming buzz as they say. One may think of the essay as a soothing corral for the mind. Here is a shape in language within which we can rest, survey, feel a bit less panicked by the wideness of perception. Sometimes a horse, upon entering the corral is instantly calm.

And then there’s the horse who gallops into the shadows and sun beams with no idea where she or he is going.

I think that’s me just now. Enter the day. Get a little lost. Feel again the ache of amazement, that transverse cross of body and mind.

Stephen Kuusisto and HarleyABOUT: Stephen Kuusisto is the author of the memoirs Have Dog, Will Travel; Planet of the Blind (a New York Times “Notable Book of the Year”); and Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening and of the poetry collections Only Bread, Only Light and Letters to Borges. A graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and a Fulbright Scholar, he has taught at the University of Iowa, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, and Ohio State University. He currently teaches at Syracuse University where he holds a University Professorship in Disability Studies. He is a frequent speaker in the US and abroad. His website is StephenKuusisto.com.

Have Dog, Will Travel: A Poet’s Journey is now available for pre-order:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
IndieBound.org

Have Dog, Will Travel by Stephen Kuusisto

(Photo picturing the cover of Stephen Kuusisto’s new memoir “Have Dog, Will Travel” along with his former guide dogs Nira (top) and Corky, bottom.) Bottom photo by Marion Ettlinger 

Wittgenstein for Breakfast

From a Notebook circa 1990: 

Comic irony: the condition of knowing what you didn’t know just seconds ago or years back and then, knowing how to think about it. 

Tragic irony: the condition of not knowing the above while others do. 

Morning irony: understanding you’ve the blues and knowing you’ll have to work with them all day. 

Evening irony: seeing how the blues at 6 AM were correct or incorrect. 

Luck stands between the above like an 18th century lamp lighter. 

“What did the president know and when did he know it?” was not, as many believe, a political or juridical question, but one connoting either comic or tragic irony. Nixon is one of the few public figures to have had both. He knew he’d broken the law. He didn’t know quite how he came to be a law breaker. His answer, deflective, was to say “everybody does this….”

Whenever you hear someone say, “everybody does this,” remember the double tragic irony of not knowing which camp above you fit into. 

I’ve always liked James Tate’s line: “curses on those who do or do not take dope.”

**

Memory

I loved my mother

She was always a such dark person

I see her everywhere in the woods

Muisti

Rakastin äitiäni

Hän oli aina tumma henkilö

Näen hänet kaikkialla metsässä

**

I guess there’s another category: forest irony. Where you recognize the animism of your subconscious. 

**

I think of Ludwig Wittgenstein some mornings. Isn’t that odd? He occurs to me very early. 

Usually it’s this quote that pops into my waking noggin:

“Death is not an event in life: we do not live to experience death. If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present. Our life has no end in the way in which our visual field has no limits.” 

Oh I like this for lots of reasons. As a visually limited man I admire the temerity of the utterance, insofar as all humans have some kind of visual limitation. Wittgenstein posits the power of imagination to declare anything, and then, with a smear of logic, to cement an idea into consciousness. I suspect this is how he survived the trenches in WW I. And I know for certain its how the disabled survive. Look at the nouns: 

Death. Event. Life. Experience. Eternity. Duration. 

In my sophomore year of college I was fascinated by Boolean algebra. In mathematical logic, Boolean algebra is the “branch of algebra in which the values of the variables are the truth values true and false, usually denoted 1 and 0 respectively.” (See Wikipedia.) 

The quote above is pure Boolean logic. One may easily draw a Boolean equation for the proposition eternal life belongs to those who live in the present. Then there’s a leap—Wittgenstein says our visual field has no limits. 

If eternity = timelessness then the present (time) also equals timelessness. Good. 

If timelessness is related to mindfulness (we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration) then the operations of mind become our vision. Hence our visual field (anyone’s) has no limit. 

You can see where the poet in me would like this. You can see where the blind person in me also admires it. 

As logic it is unimpeachable. The trick is to live it. 

Early. Wittgenstein for breakfast. 

 

 

   

Stephen Kuusisto and HarleyABOUT: Stephen Kuusisto is the author of the memoirs Have Dog, Will Travel; Planet of the Blind (a New York Times “Notable Book of the Year”); and Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening and of the poetry collections Only Bread, Only Light and Letters to Borges. A graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and a Fulbright Scholar, he has taught at the University of Iowa, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, and Ohio State University. He currently teaches at Syracuse University where he holds a University Professorship in Disability Studies. He is a frequent speaker in the US and abroad. His website is StephenKuusisto.com.

Have Dog, Will Travel: A Poet’s Journey is now available for pre-order:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
IndieBound.org

Have Dog, Will Travel by Stephen Kuusisto

(Photo picturing the cover of Stephen Kuusisto’s new memoir “Have Dog, Will Travel” along with his former guide dogs Nira (top) and Corky, bottom.) Bottom photo by Marion Ettlinger 

Of Book Tours, Antonio Gramsci, and the Unmade Bed

A friend, characterizing a mutual friend said: “he has a mind like an unmade bed” and trust me that’s how I’m feeling. Of the unmade bed I recall an episode of the television version of “The Odd Couple” when Felix discovers a half eaten submarine sandwich in Oscar Madison’s bed. Oscar didn’t say it, but I will: “detritus ye will always have with ye” though one must surely admit when his defenses are down. I’m finding it difficult to concentrate.

This isn’t listlessness. It’s not the blues. (Though I know I’ve got them—a blind guy’s slumgullion of concerns from genetic testing of fetuses (rooting out probable disabled babies, think eugenics 2.0) to the race baiting narratives of American cleanliness espoused by the United States government and increasingly large parts of the industrialized world (Reich 4.0).
Or I worry about your mentally ill brother, child, mother, especially if they’re a person of color, for they’ll likely wind up dead or in jail in our clotted, Dickensian nation. Meanwhile the eroding middle class watches the Kardashians.

OK. Sorry. But when you’re an unmade bed, well, you become that man who natters on the bus. Some mornings I’m a single dendritic spark away from either mumbling or ranting.
My unmade bed is starting to smolder.

I’ve been on a lovely book tour which has taken me to Los Angeles, Santa Cruz, Calistoga, Denver, Richmond, and upstate New York. Talking with old acquaintances and new friends is a cleansing experience. I always meet good people on the road.

Check box: I’ve been talking to excellent human beings.

Check box: In Denver I got an Uber ride from a man who lectured me about the “end times” for twenty five minutes. He touched my hair. Said: “you’re already one of the saved. God loves you.”

Check: It’s raining in the airplane burial ground, as my friend Jim Crenner once wrote.

Crumbs from the bed…Marx was right about 40% of the time.

Bed: Antonio Gramsci was right about 80% of the time.

The above assertions are not incompatible.

Check: I’ve lately had several graduate students who don’t like to read and when pushed turn deflective and mean spirited. These are the children of “no child left behind” who’ve been trained for a decade to take tests. Confronted by the prose of Salman Rushdie they look at first perplexed, than hostile.

Crumb: The students mentioned believe they’re commodified, neutralized, oppressed, etc. according to their respective identities. They won’t read for strength. They believe ideology is strength. In this way they’re no more sophisticated than Donald Trump.

It’s a very hard time to be a professor.

Crumb: last night I realized for the 41,000th time that baseball won’t save me.

Check: I don’t care for popular music of any kind.

Ort. (Everyone’s favorite crossword bit)—scientists now believe outer space is filled with carbon molecules which they describe as “grease”—it means we’re essentially living in a vast kitchen drain.

Speck: The poet Donald Hall just passed. He was a good man on balance.

Note: I’m reading Dr King’s Refrigerator by Charles Johnson. Also: The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli.

Speck: the thing about a book tour is you see with sufficient comic irony you’re not terribly important in the grand scheme.

Ort: I once introduced myself to the folk singer Utah Philips. Told him I was an anarchist at heart. He gave me a withering look. It said: “I’m the only god damned anarchist you little shit!”

What was it James Tate said? “No longer the perpetual search for an air conditioned friend….”

My step children are struggling to stay in the middle class.

I’ve a friend who’s lost his health insurance and has no job.

He doesn’t have the leisure for a mind like an unmade bed.

Like most halfway ethical beings I feel guilty.

Is sharing the unmade bed the best thing a writer can do?

That’s mostly what creative writing programs are all about.

The Finnish communist poet Pentti Saarikoski said: “I want to be the kind of poet who builds houses for people….”

Saarikoski was just kidding of course. The way poets do. He never built a house for anyone.

Is the unmade bed a place of ambition or escape. Is it both?

This is the point: I want to create unmade beds for everyone.

Check: we’d take turns being servants. The unmade bed mustn’t be class reserved.

What the hell am I talking about?

I fear for the life of imagination; what we used to call the life of the mind.

A student came to me not long ago and said he wanted to be a writer. Then he told me he hated reading.

I want to be a painter but I hate paint.

I’d like to cultivate my mind but not today.

Gramsci: “I’m a pessimist because of intelligence, but an optimist because of will.”

Stephen Kuusisto and HarleyABOUT: Stephen Kuusisto is the author of the memoirs Have Dog, Will Travel; Planet of the Blind (a New York Times “Notable Book of the Year”); and Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening and of the poetry collections Only Bread, Only Light and Letters to Borges. A graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and a Fulbright Scholar, he has taught at the University of Iowa, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, and Ohio State University. He currently teaches at Syracuse University where he holds a University Professorship in Disability Studies. He is a frequent speaker in the US and abroad. His website is StephenKuusisto.com.

Have Dog, Will Travel: A Poet’s Journey is now available for pre-order:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
IndieBound.org

Have Dog, Will Travel by Stephen Kuusisto

(Photo picturing the cover of Stephen Kuusisto’s new memoir “Have Dog, Will Travel” along with his former guide dogs Nira (top) and Corky, bottom.) Bottom photo by Marion Ettlinger 

Old Man Weather and Blind Eyes

I’m watching rain, to the degree I watch anything as I’m legally blind and rain is not immediately apparent so much as it’s a degree, a palpable abstraction. In fact rain is for me much like the faces of friends or strangers. I can’t see your expressions my friends, my enemies, my policeman, my good samaritan. Your features are like the weather—by turns dry, notional, endlessly mysterious, cold or wet.

Years ago on a street in Helsinki I met an old man who accosted me—upbraided me—for having said “I see…” —perhaps the most common locution in American English. I’d been talking to my pal Tim about something rather ordinary when I saiid it. Poof! The man appeared beside us. It was startling. One second we were alone on Runeberginkatu, the next there stood a man so old Tim later told me his skin was almost transparent. He was terribly thin and dressed in a black suit and he was shaking with urgency. “Why do you say you see?” he said.

Then he admonished us: “you don’t see! You understand!”

He was the genius of pavement; he was not of our world. He vanished right before us.

And we’d both seen him.

He was the weather I cannot see. The trees I can’t observe. The faces I’ll not know until some other life.

Yes I’m an animist.

It’s raining in the near. Old men and women are pointing their fingers. Get your words right.

David Brooks and the Dowsing Rod

I read a column this morning by David Brooks who argues America’s problems (what we used to call “social ills”) are a consequence of a shift from governance by aristocracy (think F.D.R.) to what he calls “meritocracy” which means a slavish devotion to individual advancement—read diversity, women’s rights, inclusion, etc. For Brooks the biggest culprit is higher education which has pushed the acquisition of skills and talents per the individual—so thoroughly we can’t govern ourselves. I had to stop reading and rub my scalp. I caught a head cold on the “red eye” from L.A. to Atlanta and I’m souped up on sinus relief tablets which make me hyper-vigilant and paranoid (yes, more than usual) and I thought, “is this sensible?”

Cold pills can’t disguise the silliness of Brooks’ scree. In general I like sentimental conservatism and prefer it to fascism but this is like saying I favor a horse to a camel—the former has beauty even if you don’t like stables; the latter as its name suggests is about deprivation—from camelus, the Greek word kamēlos, and from the Hebrew word gāmāl, which means ‘going without’. I know. I’ve digressed. Its the phenyl-alanine. (BTW the best quote I know about camels comes from Jackie Kennedy who famously said: “a camel makes an elephant feel like a jet plane.”)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Brooks says a concatenation of selfish me-first baby boomers and their spawn live minus the putative virtues of the old time ruling class (think F.D.R.) which means everyone is addled, self-absorbed, and inclined to vote only for short term gain. Jesus! This sounds so good! Such gratifications are a bit like divining—dowsing with a stick you find water and voila you’ve discovered the earth’s soul. All is clear.

If you think America is packed to the rafters with brummagem you’ll likely soon be strolling the back forty with a stick.

Disclosure: I favor ditch witches over Hallmark conservatism. Neo-liberalism has not been driven by open admissions at colleges and universities. Fantasizing about the good old days when noblesse oblige was ubiquitous (F.D.R.) and blaming its collapse on diversity in college admissions is, if not the most fallacious argument I’ve ever heard, pretty damned close to it. (OK. The most fallacious argument I’ve ever heard is that some people are better than others because of how they look.) (The second most fallacious argument I’ve ever heard is that giving the wealthy more money leads to investment in jobs.)

Brooks argues that elites brought us the Viet Nam War but conveniently leaves out elites fought against it and rather successfully (Daniel Ellsberg, Robert Lowell, et. al.)

He maintains selfishness is the singular order of contemporary America but leaves out the role of the GOP as it fostered racial divisiveness and fear from Nixon onward—a dynamic that has ore to do with Trump’s ascendancy than the culture of narcissism, as Christopher Lasch famously called it.

Stephen Kuusisto and HarleyABOUT: Stephen Kuusisto is the author of the memoirs Have Dog, Will Travel; Planet of the Blind (a New York Times “Notable Book of the Year”); and Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening and of the poetry collections Only Bread, Only Light and Letters to Borges. A graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and a Fulbright Scholar, he has taught at the University of Iowa, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, and Ohio State University. He currently teaches at Syracuse University where he holds a University Professorship in Disability Studies. He is a frequent speaker in the US and abroad. His website is StephenKuusisto.com.

Have Dog, Will Travel: A Poet’s Journey is now available for pre-order:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
IndieBound.org

Have Dog, Will Travel by Stephen Kuusisto

(Photo picturing the cover of Stephen Kuusisto’s new memoir “Have Dog, Will Travel” along with his former guide dogs Nira (top) and Corky, bottom.) Bottom photo by Marion Ettlinger 
Images

Last Night in L.A.

I was fortunate to be interviewed last evening by Louise Steinman at the Mark Taper Auditorium of the Los Angeles Public Library. Years ago when I was a little bit lonesome and watching “Larry King Live”–an uncharacteristic thing–I heard Paul Newman explain that he owed his entire acting career to luck. I thought of him as I sat on stage with Louise and explained my life in poetry, non-fiction writing, and civil rights work. What luck to be there in that room–how it might have been otherwise–how good people have entered my life and given me opportunities and hope. (That was Newman’s story. He shared how he was an understudy in a Tennessee Williams play on Broadway when the headlining actor fell ill. He stepped in. His career took off.) Newman never forgot that there were many other actors and actresses in his circle who had talent and never got a break. Sitting alone before my TV I wanted to hug the man for his humility.

Louise asked me about writing, trust, love, spiritual life, and we spoke about empathy and human rights. Suddenly I said: “Everyone deserves dignity and happiness.” Simple enough, right? But let’s talk about the politics of health and the necessary recognition that most human advancement has more to do with luck than Americans commonly suppose.

Many contemporary literary writers who achieve more than passing success imagine they got “there” by talent. It’s a hard position to argue against. Writing good poetry or prose requires skill to be sure–but there’s a shadow in the room like Poe’s raven, (picture wing shadows on the wall) and that’s the specter of fortune.

I know many writers of equal or greater talent than I who’ve not had the middling success I’ve enjoyed. That was the source of Paul Newman’s drive toward charity work. He saw his career as a matter of happenstance as much as anything else. I’m with him on this. I’m not gilding the Lilly of modesty. I believe what I’m saying. I wish more creative writers shared this position.

Of course I can write. Blue curtains sway above my sleep. A dream turtle drifts from under the dock and sparkles like an emerald in the unconscious. I discovered Carl Jung’s work when I was an anorexic, blind, desperately unhappy teenager. I saw how dream life is substantial and true. That was the year I found the poetry of Kenneth Rexroth. The year I took the eucharist and began eating.

Luck is the bread we break then share. You needn’t be Christian to know it.

My friend Elizabeth Aquino took this photo of Louise and I and guide dog Caitlyn at last night’s event. It was an evening of luck and emotive food to be sure:

IMG 0334

Stephen Kuusisto and HarleyABOUT: Stephen Kuusisto is the author of the memoirs Have Dog, Will Travel; Planet of the Blind (a New York Times “Notable Book of the Year”); and Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening and of the poetry collections Only Bread, Only Light and Letters to Borges. A graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and a Fulbright Scholar, he has taught at the University of Iowa, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, and Ohio State University. He currently teaches at Syracuse University where he holds a University Professorship in Disability Studies. He is a frequent speaker in the US and abroad. His website is StephenKuusisto.com.

Have Dog, Will Travel: A Poet’s Journey is now available for pre-order:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
IndieBound.org

Have Dog, Will Travel by Stephen Kuusisto

(Photo picturing the cover of Stephen Kuusisto’s new memoir “Have Dog, Will Travel” along with his former guide dogs Nira (top) and Corky, bottom.) Bottom photo by Marion Ettlinger 

Doggish Notes from California

No blogger likes to vanish unless it’s a matter of wild fortune–winning the lottery or being abducted by cuddly, literate aliens–in my case neither of which has occurred though I’m immoderately happy on the “left coast” of the USA where I’ve been on a ten day book tour.

The very phrase “book tour” sounds overblown and it is. Forgive me. This really isn’t a book tour. Publishers don’t pay for authors to fly about and speak unless they’re more than passing famous (which I’m not) or they’re media figures (which I’m not) or maybe they’ve done something intolerable and are hitting the come back trail (Pee Wee Herman?).

No I think it’s best to say I’m on a dog tour with a book in hand. The book is mine, the dog is her own creature and we’ve been with friends both old and new. Good fortune. Let it be said. The dog and man are having charmed lives.

Here for instance is a photograph of me reading from the book in hand at Romeo Vineyards in Calistoga, California just three days ago:

IMG 0533

Thanks to Emma Blatcher of Romeo Vineyards for hosting us. “Us” meaning Dog and Man but also my dear friends Ken Weisner and Becky Roberts from Santa Cruz. Ken is a poet, teacher, scholar, French Horn player, and my pal these past 40 years. Here’s a photo of Ken reading his poems at Bookshop Santa Cruz just this past week–an event he made possible and yes, I followed his poetic lead and read from my dog book.

Image 5 23 18 at 8 22 AM

I first met Ken Weisner in Iowa City in 1978. We were graduate students together, baby poets if you will, (there should be a word for baby poets–something Russian perhaps like “Sputnik”) but terminology aside we hit it off for we both loved classical music, Pablo Neruda, baseball, and complicated jokes.

As I recall, the first joke I ever told Ken involved a rebarbative and scatological piano teacher who instructed his pupil to defecate every time he hit a wrong note. The punch line was: “Good thing I didn’t shit in the piano!”

I offer the above as an example of Ken’s decency, for he befriended me despite this and we’ve been baby poets together, than stripling poets, and now we are entering the phase of life and art one may call “caducity” and there’s no help for it. And no, my jokes are no better these days.

Here’s a photograph of yours truly reading just after Ken. I’m describing how I had to walk with a woman guide dog trainer who was wearing a dog harness–an early stage of guide dog training. That exercise was loony (though perhaps necessary):

Image1

After visiting Calistoga Ken and Becky drove me to San Rafael through lush countryside. And I had the great fortune to spend some time with my old friend Michael Meteyer and his wife Kate Byrnes. They are long time friends of the blind and their home overlooks a thrilling bird estuary and there should be a word also for speaking both human and bird language for I’m convinced Michael can do this as all the local birds adore him and why not? He’s a man with a Zen heart who actually does help old ladies across streets. He also took me to visit Guide Dogs for the Blind, the famous local guide dog training center. Here’s a photo of yours truly and guide dog Caitlyn posing by their lobby sign:

Image 5 23 18 at 8 49 AM

(I love visiting guide dog schools. I’ve had the good fortune to visit schools in Japan, Finland, the UK, and at various locations in the US.)

As I write this morning I’m in Los Angeles where tonight I will speak at the Mark Taper Auditorium at the Central Library.

My doggish life has been rich, often filled with joy, many times more lucky than my morning imagination supposes. The morning imagination is like Wallace Stevens who once said the “world is ugly and the people are sad”–which may be true enough, but then again, just walking, taking in the air as a living circus (my own words from an old book) is what the world is for.

Connie Kuusisto :
Stephen Kuusisto and HarleyABOUT: Stephen Kuusisto is the author of the memoirs Have Dog, Will Travel; Planet of the Blind (a New York Times “Notable Book of the Year”); and Eavesdropping: A Memoir of Blindness and Listening and of the poetry collections Only Bread, Only Light and Letters to Borges. A graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and a Fulbright Scholar, he has taught at the University of Iowa, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, and Ohio State University. He currently teaches at Syracuse University where he holds a University Professorship in Disability Studies. He is a frequent speaker in the US and abroad. His website is StephenKuusisto.com.

Have Dog, Will Travel: A Poet’s Journey is now available for pre-order:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
IndieBound.org

Have Dog, Will Travel by Stephen Kuusisto

(Photo picturing the cover of Stephen Kuusisto’s new memoir “Have Dog, Will Travel” along with his former guide dogs Nira (top) and Corky, bottom.) Bottom photo by Marion Ettlinger