Would love to see this tomorrow night - If I were in Seatle I'd be there. But wait, I have a reading to attend locally anyway.
W.S. Merwin will be joined by Copper Canyon poets of a younger generation at Town Hall Seattle on February 4 at 7:00 p.m. Tickets are available at •Town Hall Event Tickets
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
More Books
Two new books arrived in yesterday's mail... remaining birthday remnents (still awaiting the last one).
Nathalie Handal's Neverfield and Beth Ann Fennelly's Unmentionables. I've finished Neverfield between last night and my lunch hour. It's a poem itself, as opposed to a book of poems. I always like to read poetry at least three times before reviewing, and this book truly is complex even though it is a smooth flowing read. It's highly lyrical. I will talk about it more in depth soon, but I will say for now that it's an impressive first read.
I've cracked the coven on Unmentionables. but only to read half a dozen poems. I'm attending a reading by Fennelly on Thursday.
Nathalie Handal's Neverfield and Beth Ann Fennelly's Unmentionables. I've finished Neverfield between last night and my lunch hour. It's a poem itself, as opposed to a book of poems. I always like to read poetry at least three times before reviewing, and this book truly is complex even though it is a smooth flowing read. It's highly lyrical. I will talk about it more in depth soon, but I will say for now that it's an impressive first read.
I've cracked the coven on Unmentionables. but only to read half a dozen poems. I'm attending a reading by Fennelly on Thursday.
February
February belongs to nothing.
It lacks the splendor of winter;
more gray than anything.
It’s a tag-a-long month
with nothing in common
with the others. Yes,
it has evolved—
a hard shell
for emotional survival;
and seldom affords anyone
sympathy.
It’s hard to say anything good
about a month that cannot control
the number of days it lives.
It lacks the splendor of winter;
more gray than anything.
It’s a tag-a-long month
with nothing in common
with the others. Yes,
it has evolved—
a hard shell
for emotional survival;
and seldom affords anyone
sympathy.
It’s hard to say anything good
about a month that cannot control
the number of days it lives.
Monday, February 01, 2010
Monday
In route to work this morning the sky is gray, the road is gray, the gaurd rails gray even the air seems gray.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
This Thursday – Beth Ann Fennelly Mid-West Poets Series
Author of Open House, Tender Hooks and her latest Unmentionables, Fennelly will appear at Rockhurst University’s Mabee Theater at 7:00 PM to read. A 6:00 PM reception will precede the event.
A sample of Beth’s work can be heard here where she reads her poem: Because People Ask What My Daughter Will Think of My Poems When She’s 16
Technorati Tags: Beth Ann Fennelly
What others are saying about Unmentionables:
“Dramatic, complex . . . and enthralled with language . . . genuinely outstanding.” — Verse Daily
“This collection is stunning in its technical range and in its emotional complexity.” — The Southern Register
“A feast of light and sound.” — Paste
What others are saying about Unmentionables:
“Dramatic, complex . . . and enthralled with language . . . genuinely outstanding.” — Verse Daily
“This collection is stunning in its technical range and in its emotional complexity.” — The Southern Register
“A feast of light and sound.” — Paste
Unconscious Mutterings Week 366
You Say..... I think:
1.Furniture :: upholstry
2.Beauty :: shop
3.Sip :: coffee
4.Block :: street
5.Forehead :: bindi
6.Championship :: series
7.Hurl :: insults
8.Whip :: cool
9.Destruction :: quake
10.Leather :: jacket
Get your own list from Unconscious Mutterings
1.Furniture :: upholstry
2.Beauty :: shop
3.Sip :: coffee
4.Block :: street
5.Forehead :: bindi
6.Championship :: series
7.Hurl :: insults
8.Whip :: cool
9.Destruction :: quake
10.Leather :: jacket
Get your own list from Unconscious Mutterings
Haiti At Two Weeks
The dead unknown
at least a hundred-fifty thousand
buried in mass graves
or remaining under rubble
that shifts like sand
beneath our feat
the sickening sweet stench
of ripened death
and uncertainty
at least a hundred-fifty thousand
buried in mass graves
or remaining under rubble
that shifts like sand
beneath our feat
the sickening sweet stench
of ripened death
and uncertainty
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