Christopher Bursk, born on the same day as Shakespeare, had no illusions he was Prospero breaking his wand, though this is his final book of poetry. A recipient of PEW, NEA, and Guggenheim Fellowships and author of eighteen books, he was grateful to have had his writing recognized by the AWP Donald Hall Poetry Prize, the Allen Ginsberg Prize, the Green Rose Prize, the Patterson Prize, the Allen Ginsberg 49th Parallel Awards, the New Letters Prize in Poetry, and the Milt Kessler Book Award. Most importantly, he was the proud grandfather of six.

Books by Christopher Bursk:

Other poems on the web by Christopher Bursk:
Three poems
"Sisters"
Two poems

About With Aeneas in a Time of Plague:

"Christopher Bursk's With Aeneas in a Time of Plague is the most accomplished collection I've read in a long while. I might call it poignant and timely, vulnerable and intellectual, tender and unafraid because all of that is true, but more than that in the course of reading I felt like I was marveling at the construction of a bridge that's reimagined physics. This collection collapses ancient history with current issues and uses a dead language and a shared, epic reading experience to explore sexuality, masculinity, war games, family dynamics, love, loss, and so much more. I'm awed by the ways Bursk grounds us in personal territory while pointing beyond the self in subtle and poignant ways. These poems show what glory comes of living a life in verse."
—Lisa Fay Coutley

"What does The Aeneid have to do with us? Bursk, like Vergil, descends. He teaches us how the ordinary world becomes mythic in our memories, shaping our fears, our loves, and our fates. Then he brings us back the way that poets always have—through song. He writes, 'We know music and poetry / will not save anyone, but we sing anyway' In this time of disease and uncertainty, when many of us have lost so much, Bursk reminds us that The Aeneid is our story, too. Through this contemporary retelling, the epic is resurrected, and we realize that our lives are no more or less than this narrative, the speaker is no more or less than Aeneas, his father no more or less than Anchises, and we are lucky to experience this song, these poems, this grief and celebration, with him."
—Brandi George