Dan Machlin is a New York-based writer born in New York.  He likes to ride the line, tonally, between sincerity and abstraction, and to balance staccato-like simplicity against the tension of long prose sentences—these paradoxes are essential elements of his work.

Machlin was awarded the Face Out Grant for Emerging Writers by the Jerome Foundation and CLMP (2007-08), was a Finalist for the Verse Prize (2005), and a Finalist in the National Poetry Series (2004). He was awarded the Goodman Fund Poetry Award (1995), and Malinche Prize for Literary Translation in Italian (1995) by the City College of New York. Publications include Figuring Color (2012), American Book Review (2010), One Word: Contemporary Writers on the Words They Love or Loathe (2010), Dear Body: (2007), and 6×7 (2005). He received his B.A. in English Literature from Wesleyan University and his M.A. in English/Creative Writing from City College of New York.

Photo credit: courtesy of the artist


from  L.A.


Meditating on it:  the horse pasture — cleanly mowed green patch — delineated walls. It is the place you always come back to — Wordsworth’s Stanzas in Meditation.




Place I led them on the blind walk —


not the blind leading the blind

as in the painting of the parable


but the seeing leading the blind

as if to make a point —




Something I believed but have since forgotten —

a sort of teaching by reenactment


But the real truth was the simple delight of revealing and the voyeurism of their delight and fear at not knowing




Not a derangement of the senses but a displacement of them —removals of veils — for everyone knew that many among them cheated — the bound — the faux captive — the observed — and glanced ever so slight out of the bottom of the blind — and saw the moss and ferns where I stopped — and saw the stone wall before the road led downward