Not NPM

These are the titles I won’t be posting about for National Poetry Month last April, but instead will be doing daily in September. I’m pulling them at random from a suitcase right next to me to determine the order. There aren’t quite enough for an entire month, so if anybody has a poetry book they’d like me to talk about this month, feel free to comment, or e-mail me at oddcitrusdotcamiatgmaildotcom and we can figure it out. Any leftover days will be for poetry publications and anthologies, I think.

Sept. 1 – Personationskin, by Karl Parker
Sept. 2 – Cadaver Dogs, by Rebecca Loudon
Sept. 3 – God Damsel, by Reb Livingston
Sept. 4 – We Were Eternal and Gigantic, by Evelyn Hampton
Sept. 5 – A Conventional Weather, by John Pursley III
Sept. 6 – Say, Poem, by Adam Robinson
Sept. 7 – In Another Castle, by Matthew Shindell
Sept. 8 – Feign, by Kristy Bowen
Sept. 9 -   MC Oroville’s Answering Machine, by Mike Young
Sept. 10 – In the Particular Particular, by Stephanie Anderson
Sept. 11 – The Forgiveness Parade, by Jeffrey McDaniel
Sept. 12 – Lamu, by Steve Timm
Sept. 13 – Arbor, by Melissa Ginsburg
Sept. 14 – Exit Interview, by Paul Guest
Sept. 15 – Radish King, by Rebecca Loudon
Sept. 16 – The Emperor’s Sofa, by Greg Santos
Sept. 17 – make-believe love-making, by Ana Carrete

Robin Camille Davis

A moment

I have 3 pieces in the new Artifice (#2), coming out in October.

Never piss off a poet, unless you want them to give you free books. Reb Livingston lets us know in no uncertain terms that reviewing poetry books is good, and then seriously backs that shit up. I am so on board, and will be reviewing Laurel Snyder‘s The Myth of the Simple Machines for Galatea Resurrects. Besides Galatea, there are quite a few places that solicit reviews of poetry books, even aside from posting on your own blog or website. I’ve listed a few below, but there are many more:

Boxcar Poetry Review first run books only, no chapbooks
Rain Taxi
The American Poetry Journal
Rattle
The Quarterly Conversation
Broken Pencil as of 8/5, seeking reviews of small press poetry book titles
Valparaiso Poetry Review

This seems like as good a time as any to announce my plan to review a poetry book a day in September. I have bunch of books stacked up, waiting to be talked about, and had planned to do this for National Poetry Month in April, but then life went crazy. Things have settled down now, and I can. I only have about half a month’s worth of books, though, so I’ll do it until I run out, unless anybody has something they’d like me to review to fill out the month, in which case I can do that. They’ll probably all be good, don’t worry. Some better than others, though.

The Answer to the Puzzle
Laurel Snyder

The answer to the puzzle
is the mauled bird on the sidewalk,
and the feathers.

The answer to the puzzle
is that things keep getting less lovely,
but more interesting.

When the girl falls
through the air from the top
of a very tall building,

she sees everything
rush past her in great detail
but with little promise.

Onlookers see, “Some girl
cutting through the air
like a knife cuts through water.”

They gasp and say, “How terrible.
That poor girl. It’s just awful.”
And it really is. A moment.

And fill up the tank

I’ve lost interest in poetry-related blog projects for now. Which is not to say that nothing will happen, only that I am unreliable, as usual.

The most revolutionary thing I could think of to do today was to buy a shovel.

Buddy boy

I went to Very Small Dogs yesterday, and read it. It had been awhile. In the meantime, Joseph Young had added much sublime stuff. This in particular is something I could read in a 300-page volume bound in stamped leather, or faux-leather, or something fancy or serious. Something that, after finding my place, moving the ribbon marker aside, and reading, I could just shut and enjoy the weight of in my hands while leaning back in my chair, full and quiet.

I also read one of my favorite stories by someone I sort of know, Mike Sposito’s You and Your Plane Crash at Stirring. I first read this years ago, and came across it again yesterday, and was once again so struck by the pitch-perfect tone, the black black humor, and the elegance of the writing. It’s a sort of diorama of a couple whose contempt for humanity has transformed into contempt for each other, to the point where an event as dramatic as a  plane crash in their garden becomes just another setting to one-up each other and inflict pain. Think Garp, with fucked priorities.

So, I’m considering a project involving this blog, and poetry, which I will post about tomorrow. I had originally planned this project for April, National Poetry Month, but my world got put awry that month, so I’m considering September now, which should be safe. Who knows? Anyway, that’s a tease.