CHAPTER ONE WITH LAUREL BLOSSOM

You're invited to read Laurel Blossom's participation to the "Chapter One" series which you can see HERE, but here's an excerpt:

My advice? as Aunt Phoebe would say: follow your instincts. Follow the language that sparkles. One thing leads to another. Let the poem take its own sweet time. Let it tell you where it wants to go. Don’t be afraid to let go of the parts you love that don’t serve the needs of the poem. Don’t be afraid to leave in the parts that scare you. Have fun. Enjoy the process. The results will take care of themselves. You will reach success.

NEW PAGES reviews BECAUSE I LOVE YOU,... by EILEEN R. TABIOS

NewPages has published a review of BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, I BECOME WAR. Eileen's book has many layers--she loves to cram as many layers as she can in a single book--and this review is the first to look at the project in terms of archive-related issues. You can see entire review HERE but here's an excerpt:

"What is so magical about this collection is that we are not left hanging and lost in the dense material of this ambitious project; we are shown abundance and astounding imagination in what remains. This project is love."

 

CONGRATULATIONS TO TONY TRIGILIO!

Tony Trigilio's memoir CRAFT is on SPD's Bestseller List!

CONGRATULATIONS TO LYNNE THOMPSON!

 From Beyond Baroque:

NEWS ALERT RE MARSH HAWK 2024 POETRY PRIZES!

 

CHAPTER ONE WITH ANNALISE NASSANI

You are invited to read Annalise Nassani's contribution to "Chapter One" with her essay on erasure poetry HERE. Here's an excerpt:

It was just after lunch when the poetry graduate student teacher dumped a pile of discount books onto the table. There were only ten of us, all high school students, sitting in an air-conditioned classroom of some Columbia University building. She handed each student a random book plus some Sharpies. I remember mine had yellowed pages and chewed-up corners. The lesson that day was on erasure poetry. She demonstrated this by ripping a page out of a book and blacking paragraphs of text until only a handful of words were visible. At once, it felt thrilling and blasphemous to be permitted to destroy literature, even if it was books no one wanted. That August afternoon provided plenty of light through several open windows as we began. Sounds of ripping paper and the strong scent of markers filled the room. I don’t remember the title of the book I had nor the poem I created. Yet. I never forgot the joy of taking words from a page to create something new.