In Art, Poetry, Prose on September 15, 2010 at 9:02 pm
from SAY, JOKE
Marie and her blond friend Denise were passing through the yellow light.
Italian Renaissance painters, Marie said. Denise couldn’t get a handle on it. Chiaroscuro was particularly oblique. The World’s Smartest Artist came in. In the glass he saw a future of willows and at once they laughed. Things, they were just so and no one could deny it.
In Art, Confessional, Poetry on September 11, 2010 at 6:26 pm
I’ve updated my post on A Conventional Weather, because it’s such an incredible book of poetry, and really deserved more. I am going to stick to saying more about the books, but the one a day thing I set for myself was kind of killing me. I’ll still try for that rate, even though I’m behind now, but my main goal will be to simply complete the books on my current roster by the end of the month.
Otherwise, there’s a new Wheelhouse, after a very long time, and I have two poems in it: Family Narrative and Many Stories. It’s an issue full to bursting of amazing poetry and prose; well worth checking out.
In Art, Drama, Poetry on July 5, 2010 at 12:25 pm
Rebecca Loudon is at Everyday Genius, and boy is she ever. Genius, I mean. These poems are pounding and terrible and good.
Otherwise, I guess Eyeshot was gone, and now it’s back
Tin House is badly misunderstood.
In Art, Confessional, Poetry on July 4, 2010 at 10:27 am
Ana Carrete has collages! They are freaky and good and weird, uniquely creative and profound. I love the color and composition of the one above, and another, titled kitty-cat-lady has a slight Dargerish vibe (plus genius, minus creepiness) that appeals. Anyway, I just love Ana C. There’s always something with that girl.
For Independence Day, and The Best American Poetry, Reb Livingston presents Rebecca Loudon‘s poem, What I didn’t say when the gasworks shook their iron tails in my direction, and makes my soul feel like a drum.
There are two fans facing each other across this room, each on a pile of books. They are competing, but I like them both the same, and couldn’t do without either. It’s the billowing curtain between that I really love.
In Art, Music, Poetry on June 4, 2010 at 4:40 pm
Rebecca Loudon has a brainful of 15 Queer-Winged poems posted over at PEEP/SHOW— they are amazing. Shattering. Necessary. Go.
In Art, Confessional, Prose on March 9, 2010 at 8:17 pm
I have a new story, Even the Smallest, up at the always fresh Wigleaf. Plus a postcard.
In Art, Confessional, Poetry on March 5, 2010 at 10:22 pm
Hot and perfect strange.
A blue island of
a wreck of desert cities.
In Art, Household, Poetry on February 27, 2010 at 11:57 pm
PEEP/SHOW is a new poetry publication that, according to its Peepifesto, intends to publish innovative poetry every 5 months and unfold “over the course of time, with a large chunk of serially-minded work by a different poet added every few weeks.” Their debut issue, 10 Women, is impressive, including substantial work by Kate Schapira and Kimberly Lyons.
We would rather set things on fire than carve them in stone. –Lynn Behrendt and Anne Gorrick, Curators
newly created …
not disenchanted. If you lay
the red surfaces
together they may regenerate.
They have some give if you
get to them in time,
the siren says. Concern
reddens and tightens
your brow as the siren
passes. What’s going on under
the wrinkles could be any color.
If you lay the surfaces together
you may be startled by pleasure.
May think of frostbite
to calm yourself, your circulation
may return, the siren may …
There are nicks in …
In Art, Confessional, Link collage on February 26, 2010 at 7:00 pm
Received this resonant thing in the mail today from Angela Simione, so I thought I’d do one of my link collages in honor. Enjoy (hopefully).
It is easy to say, but believe me it is horrifying to see 20 people die in front of you.
It takes some serious nerve to have a person die in front of you, and ask people how good your lighting is.
I believe that seeing someone you love die in front of you or watching your own body collapse makes it more difficult to act in bad faith.
Suppose you have a (possibly biased) die in front of you.
I remember covering the famine in Sudan and seeing people die in front of you.
It would be exquisite to die in front of you, I thought.
when he turns 10000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 years old so he wont die in front of you fatass!!
Otherwise I’ll die in front of you.
It’s not the greatest feeling I tell ya but to watch mates etc die in front of you in time of war?????
Like, I could write about the Triple Crown, but it’s hard to wrap your arms around a sport where the star athletes have a tendency to, you know, die in front of you.
Dying mice may come out from their hiding places and die in front of you.
Shall we die in front of you just because all our silver is gone?