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Prof. Maxine Susman
Department of English, Writing Across the Curriculum |
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| Office: Room 4140, Visceglie Arts Center | |
| Office Hours: Monday & Wednesday 10-11, Tuesday 11-12, Thursday 10:30-11 & 1:30-2, and by appointment | |
| Campus Extension: 3630 | |
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E-mail Address msusman@caldwell.edu | |
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Professional Information: | |
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Education: |
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Ph.D., English, Cornell University M.A., English, Cornell University B.A., English, Barnard College |
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Professional Affiliations: |
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New Jersey College English Assn. US 1 Poets Cooperative Caldwell Poets Group |
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College Service Committees: |
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Scholars Committee Women's Studies Advisory Board Faculty Development Committee Writing Across the Curriculum
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Courses Taught: | |
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EN 306 English Literature EN 409 Modern Poetry EN 411 Contemporary Poetry EN 410 Capstone Seminar EN 210 Introduction to Poetry EN 111 Literary Types and Themes
Schedules for courses will be posted at the beginning of the semester.
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| Helpful Literary Links: | |
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MLA This will save you hours of frustration when you prepare a research paper!
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Welcome!
Poetry Biography: My work has appeared in many journals and anthologies, including US 1 Worksheets, Paterson Literary Review, Journal of New Jersey Poets, Exit 13, NJ College English Notes, Ekphrasis, Earth's Daughters, Potomac Review, Blueline, Animus, Off the Coast, Confluence, Comstock Review, Home Planet News, Jewish Women's Literary Annual, Bridges: A Journal for Jewish Feminists and Their Friends, Vital Signs Poetry Project (National Institutes of Health), and Rough Places Plain, Poems of the Mountains. I received Honorable Mention from the Friends of Acadia Nature Poetry contest, Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance, Brodine/Brodinsky Contest of the Connecticut Poetry Society, Confluence, and the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Competition. My chapbook Gogama was a finalist in the 2005 Sheltering Pines and Black River Chapbook Competitions. I’m a member of the Caldwell Poets and of US 1 Poets Cooperative in Princeton, and served as Senior Editor of its journal US 1 Worksheets. I have lived in Highland Park for many years. Owl at the Historical Society The Great Horned stares from the branch of the handler’s hide-thick glove. We stare back, children and adults alike, into coin-gold eyes ringed by the startling facial disks. Hearing so acute he reads our hearts – we never meant to be this close. His kind can lift and rip a porcupine or unwatched puppy, next day regurgitate a pellet-like bundled corpse, only bones and skin.
But he’s plunged this time into human hands. We sit purring with pity at his disabled wing.
Pluck Summoned, he’s hiked to the distant camp, OB bag strapped to his chest, the predictable not something he counts on.
She lies effaced in terror, this baby, pounding for hours.
Let’s see, Madame. Something’s wrong, he knows before he’s sure, fingertips reaching in feel – not scalp – shoulder, agony to deliver.
Rigid, her legs wide, eyes fixed. The child turned against her, strange man casting inside.
His fingers probe the womb – touch his only way to see – try, and fail, try once more, finally pry the shoulder free, twist the body into place –
now she can push. At five a.m. the baby comes.
The father, exuberant, fussing at the stove. Fresh coffee, bacon with eggs right from the hen, all he’ll be paid, best he’s ever had.
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