So I had pretty immediate brain surgery, which was a trip. And I had this tumor that had grown to about the size of a quarter that was sitting directly on top of my optic nerve, and that's what was causing the blindness. And the pituitary is this little, pea-sized gland. And that's where they found a tumor on my pituitary. TOLIVER: And I finally found an ophthalmologist who scheduled me for an MRI. And just about a month later, my vision started to deteriorate. I, as I said, had my daughter in December of 2012. My brain arriving through the darkness like streets mapping out this mine. Here is the site I've dog-eared for you, taut as any waiting, my sudden fold of luck pinched lightning, we can't put our hands on but you do. Listen how the cut is made across my face, could move any feeling. (Reading) Here is where I take you behind the eyes, a glistening star. SIMON: If I could get you to read a section from page 26. The second part of your book is called 'Ideal Machine.' Everything was so amplified for me at that time.

And I think a lot of the poems in that first section came out of this period of really severe disruption, considering what that commitment looks like and what could go wrong. I was studying for my MFA at Brown, and my partner was here in Portland. TOLIVER: When I had my daughter in 2012 - she's 5 now - it was a bit of a surprise. SIMON: Well, what was the experience, may I ask? I think the emotional undercurrent is, in some sense, true to my experience, but the facts are not. Is this an abusive - are you writing about an abusive relationship here? You asked, if somewhere we find the itch of the lumber, do we find compassion for the ax blade that splits it. When the cold math of winter arrived early that year, I thought the first fist you seamed into my cheekbone was to get to the proof, to the pit of the marriage. You sat naked at the kitchen table, carving the nectarines free from their stones. (Reading) This morning, in the cupboard, I found your last quarter-inch of whiskey, settled amber in the Mason jar, same burn on the horizon, the last Indian summer. SIMON: May I ask you to begin by reading from your poem 'Standing On The Lawn Outside Your House With A Match And A Gallon Of Gasoline'? Ashley Toliver has written her first book of poems - 'Spectra.' She joins us from Portland, Ore.

Mount and blade poems