Devon Moore hails from Buffalo, NY with a lot of time spent growing in Wilmington, NC. A former high school English teacher at Dewitt Clinton High School in the Bronx, she currently lives in Syracuse, NY where she teaches writing at Syracuse University and SUNY Oswego. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Syracuse University. Her poems have appeared in Gulf Coast, Harpur Palate, Meridian, The Cortland Review, and others. Apology of a Girl Who Is Told She Is Going to Hell is her debut collection.

Books by Devon Moore:

Other poems on the web by Devon Moore:
"Red"
"Burial"
"The Caged Girl Wishes That The Man in the Volcano Was Free Like Her"

Devon Moore on Twitter.

About Apology of a Girl Who Is Told She Is Going to Hell:

"Devon Moore's poetry is lifelike — revealing, rhapsodic, comic, and inviting. Even poignant. After reading her book, I've decided that if she is going to Hell I'd like to join her."
—Michael Burkard

"Book of water, ashes and bone—Devon Moore's moving, elemental debut is part autobiography of toughness, and part meditation on desire. Apology of a Girl Who Is Told She Is Going to Hell is deeply rooted in the sensual delights and fierce realities of the material world: the smell of oranges, a morphine drip, wind chimes, a plastic feeding tube, 'grapefruits and Freon and light.' These shining poems open themselves again and again to pleasure, even while they serve as 'armor against the pain of this world."
—Erika Meitner

"Devon Moore makes spaces that are theaters for the soul. She makes them carefully and fearlessly, shining light into the dark places, sounding the depths, taking their tensile weight and assessing what it means to be the living girl, woman, survivor. In attics, basements, bedrooms, back porches, shoeboxes, urns, sheds, rest stops and the interiors of cars are the material she must sift through to find her inheritance. Sometimes the spaces are exploded with longing or love or shame or skepticism. What I like best about Moore's work is the great reciprocity, the generosity that allows the 'closeness to what hurts us' be conducted into our being."
—Bruce Smith