Views
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Those flaxen evangelicals, imbued with their holy ghost or some such helter-skelter mania, were surely not from Chicago, not of Sweet Home—bused in from Kansas, perchance?
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The reasons for my discomfort became clear one September afternoon at the Minnesota State Fair pig judging contest.
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As one student put it: “Too much liberty for me is death.”
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In one fell swoop, this eliminates almost all the problems I’ve encountered in typical workshops.
Interviews
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Big Sex Little Death focuses most of its pages on Bright’s complicated and sometimes painful history.
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Ian Heames began printmaking in a sub-basement several floors beneath a library at Oxford.
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I started writing poetry as a freshman in high school. I would buy blank notebooks as souvenirs because I found the idea of a bunch of blank pages really appealing.
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According to Linda McCarriston, poetry exists for reasons beyond displays of linguistic or lyrical talent.
Reviews
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Over the course of ten years, Kitchen has jotted notes about photos she found in her family’s scrapbook. She has now collected her writings into a cohesive work accompanied by approximately seventy images.
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There is a journalistic objectivity to Quan Barry’s new collection of poems, Water Puppets. The poems linger on scenes of profound violence and inhumanity, reporting heavy truths of war, massacre, and disaster.
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In Neighborhood Register, Marcus Jackson eloquently establishes a time and place: the American Rust Belt of his adolescence during the late twentieth century.
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Tamura’s work relentlessly pulls us into highly charged and disturbing themes of violence, culpability, and survival.
Blog Posts
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May 9, 2012
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Apr 30, 2012
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Apr 26, 2012
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Apr 23, 2012
