Nonfiction | September 01, 2010
Bard of the Bottle
Michael White
The full text of this essay is not currently available online.
Tom was a terrible influence, of course. That friendship was scorched earth. He died at fifty-four, though he looked a couple of decades older. I just turned fifty-four yesterday. But that friendship made me everything I am. Without it, I wouldn’t even be a poet, I think…
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?
Subscribe TodaySEE THE ISSUE
SUGGESTED CONTENT
Nonfiction
Jan 08 2024
Breathe!
Breathe! Marina Hatsopoulos When my husband Walter and I arrived in the Intensive Care Unit, our twenty-five-year-old daughter Zoe was lying, eyes closed, under a nest of tangled… read more
Features
Jan 08 2024
The Shinty Ball
The Shinty Ball Adam Boggon The first person I saw in a psychiatric outpatient clinic had a shinty ball in his hand. His GP believed he was paranoid, perhaps psychotic.… read more
Nonfiction
Dec 18 2023
Accident
Accident Gregory Martin It had rained all day, warm for January in Montana. It was dark now, the temperature dropping, the road turning to black ice. I was driving to… read more