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News & AnnouncementsWe have two new chapbooks coming your way in February: Dream-Clung, Gone by Lauren Russell will be available on Feb 15th and Unpublished Poems by Broc Rossell will be available on Feb 29th. We're now taking pre-orders for these books. Look for us at the AWP Conference in Chicago in late February! If you're attending, stop by our table and say hello! |
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New Books |
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Matt Shears 10,000 WALLPAPERS Poetry Chapbook Shears creates poems of wonder and wandering, poems of longing and regret. [His] range of voice and unpredictable grace provide an exquisite backbone to the time/place/space that encompasses this vibrant collection. This is very unusual collection of poems, a formidable departure from the nation's workshops. The rhythms and cadences of these Alter(n)ations imitate and celebrate the life forms that inhabit our lives. The speaker in this poem sings like Prufrock, in a lyric that is searing and true, as he searches for the possibilities of pure utterance and perception amidst what is manufactured. |
Lauren Russell Dream-Clung, Gone Poetry Chapbook Lauren Russell casts a sharp eye on the urban landscape around her, carving profiles and cutting out silhouettes from real experience. The strongest influences on her are the people she deals with directly—lovers, roommates, oglers from the subway, fellow patients, pets. “The lover, as artifact, is constant as long as the jewelry remains broken,” she writes, dismantling her attachments to fluster assertions of overarching facts. Russell favors a singing absence, where each detail is a transitional truth, and each word a temporary home. “It may be known that she allowed a dismantling.” Lauren Russell’s poems remind us what authenticity might mean and be. They are full of “the possibilities of grief” and “insubordinate frizzle.” Simultaneously raw and crafted, these poems bubble and boil with life. |
Broc Rossell Unpublished Poems Poetry Chapbook But I don’t know but a book in a man’s brain is better off than a book bound in calf – at any rate it is safer from criticism. And taking a book off the brain, is akin to the ticklish & dangerous business of taking an old painting off a panel – you have to scrape off the whole brain in order to get at it with due safety – & even then, the painting may not be worth the trouble. Susie, what shall I do – there is’nt room enough; not half enough, to hold what I was going to say. Wont you tell the man who makes sheets of paper, that I hav’nt the slightest respect for him! am the outskirts of a nonexistent town, a prolix commentary on an unwritten book. I am no one, no one. I don’t know how to feel, how to think, how to love. I am a character in an unwritten novel, passing by, airy and unmade, without having existed, amid the dreams of whoever it is who didn’t know how to complete me. |
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