Dispatches and Selections from Independent Publications
Matthew Thorburn’s At Eighty is a harrowing portrait of an artist with dementia, managing to exhibit both the horrific effects of the illness and the hard-nosed defiance of human dignity. The end is bitter-sweet, succinct, a balance of sorrow and acceptance: this is a poem of life, not death. Timeless in theme and flawless in composition, it is ready to be read for ages to come.
In this flashback from 2007, Adelle Stripe writes pure punk rock and levity. With a voice that makes one want to throw on a Libertines record and go prowl some piss-smelling alleyway, Stripe recounts the day to day of her own Chelsea Dagger, and really, this poem reeks of the garage rock revival of the early 2000’s, but it pulls it off with the ease of a needle piercing skin. This is an aesthetic time capsule from the last true bloom of rock and roll, sin and heroin in old London.
Sylvia Chan, though I pray her poem is not confessional, takes after the more acclaimed confessionalist Mrs. Plath in her incredible ability to express horrific events and traumatic emotions. The latter labels may conjure in one’s head one of the many melodramatic ink slicks currently clogging old father poesy’s gills, but seeing how rare it is for me to be actually disturbed by anything I read (Homes’ Alice or Nabakov’s Ada), I am extremely impressed by not only this poem’s construction, but its ability to hold and horrify in such a sparse and purposely elusive manner.
Naieka Raj does darkness well, which is a rare compliment in an art currently stuffed plug-ugly with melodrama and half-baked lyrical self harm. Succeeding in its experiments and floating along effortlessly on its foreboding tone, surreal images and stark body horror elevate this poem to the apex of contemporary fear. Not to mention Raj’s use of repetition makes edentata almost hypnotizing.
Kristen Garth seemingly has an unhealthy fear of swans, and so naturally, she constructed this slasher film en verse, with swans filling the role of the main antagonist. Despite what some may tell you, a poem needn’t be composed of ecclesiastical revelations and meditations on mortality. In fact, sometimes the best poems are just plain old fun. Garth has proven this by weaving together a magnificent display of her poetic talents by way of the most unlikely subjects… a pair of bloodthirsty swans. It’s absurd, tongue-twisting, brooding in the most humorous of manners, and yes, absolutely enthralling to read.
Steve Sibra has crafted quite a compelling tale from the blood stained barstools of the heartland. Born from a dying breed of classic Americana, this is small town skulduggery in terrific verse, western mythos and piss drunk cowboys with a pinch of paternal angst. Whether manufactured or based in fact, Sibra has constructed a mini-tragedy, almost absurd in nature, but utterly captivating nonetheless.
What if Cinderella smoked methamphetamine from her glass slipper? If by some extremely strange coincidence you’ve ever asked yourself that question, then you’re in luck. Enter the world of Georgina Titmus’s step-sisters, a tongue-twisting tidbit that turns this classic fairytale into a fragment of dark foreboding and uncanny (possibly suggestive?) horror. If Finnegans Wake and The Autobiography of Red got blasted together at the ball, then eight months later this Cronenbergian masterpiece of a poem would be born.
Every now and again there is a poem that sticks in one’s head, a catchy tune, an ear worm, a poem that will undoubtedly outlast the others. dg nanouk okpik’s Warm Water Fish Moving In is one of those poems. It taunts and terrorizes the reviewer with its sheer magnanimity. It is beyond summary, and to put it candidly, is simply a fantastic work of art.
Penelope Pelizzon sails the sea of self-loathing and picks up some friends along the way, mainly various sea related detritus that accompany her on this dystopian beach stroll. Nevertheless, her imagery and rhythm are exquisite, horrific, surreal, and the tactful use of her sprawling vocabulary builds marvelously on the absurd setting.
Tori McCandless proves yet again that the sonnet is immortal. A clever lesson in virtue is combined with surreal imagery and stunningly absurd turns of phrase to composite a fresh take on a classical form with more than its fair share of glitz to close the show. McCandless is a striking talent, one worth watching.
Adam Houle has produced a scathing, cunning, hysterical rebuke of modern language, and how accurate his depiction is! Published alongside this critical masterpiece are two other impeccable poems both worthy of mention in their own right. All of that to say, Adam Houle a garnered a new reader, and this reviewer will be studying his work from hereon out.
Robert L. Dean Jr. has crafted a flawless meditation on mortality and aging. Rife with allusions to film and classical literature, death is not denied its twisted horrors but made beautiful in its reality. Dean weaves the threads of a life before severing them for all to see, to read, and to mourn.
Superlatives to the editors Kathleen Volk Miller, Marion Wrenn, Jason Schneiderman, Bryan Dickey, Daniel Driscoll, Miriam R. Haier, Andrew Keller, Samantha Neugebauer, Rachel Wenrick, and all plaudits to the poets James Harms for Make Muffins, Pier Wright for Driveway Poem and The Hibiscus, Key West, Sarah A. Chavez for Dear Carol, I look out the window, William Palmer for He Pours a Small Glass of Milk, and to all other poets for their contributions. It is a fantastic issue from back to front, and was both a pleasure and a breeze to read.
Painted Bride Quarterly Issue 102: Touch | Editors and Contributors Respectively
John Repp recounts a family chronicle with a high-octane oomph, and grovels at the gate of the past with the poise of a spittoon. This is homegrown American verse at its finest, bursting with the spirit of the heartland.
Mara Adamitz Scrupe has crafted two exemplary passages of gritty, reflexive, dynamic music. Scrupe means business, and her verse, though clad in iron, hovers so effortlessly across the page, and flits through the mind with a guttural magniloquence. These twin poems are triumphs, and should be subsumed with all warranted relish.
Eileen P. Kennedy’s monastic verse meanders through the wisps and phantoms of her memory with a music so tranquil, so gentle, so pastoral, that one can’t help but reminisce on their own life after reading it.
Michael J Seidlinger teaches us “how to conceptualize a voice” in this hilariously absurd instructional-in-verse. A paragon of prose-poetry and a lecture in slacker philosophy, Pornography is a must read for any lover of lyrical discourse.
Laura Mullen’s fraught, fevered, and frenetic epic jaws into the jazz of perspective with a consummate arrangement of syntax and onomatopoeia. Her pace is radical, inventive, zealous, and her use of footnotes as both a stanzaic insertion and extension amounts to an expert synthesis of transitive verse.
The conjectures of history on Aspasia’s character are beautifully argued by Sanjana Ramanathan; Aspasia, defamed and mocked, and ironically politically persecuted for Asebeia, has her dignity restored.
Kevin McIlvoy teaches drunken wedding etiquette in this striking ode to self-loathing, senescence, and cynicism.
John Lotta’s Wont and Innuendo and Registry and Leg are both extraordinary examples of prose poetry done right. Whether he’s dubbing Eliot a “royal ass” or prattling on about a dentist’s drill, Latta is superseding language.
For those who are fans of Burroughs’ word jumbled and bizarre philosophies, Ken Edwards’ A River on the Table will be quite the exceptional find. Excerpted from his book Wild Metrics, this is a must read for any connoisseurs of experimental prose poetry.
Natalie Diaz’s enchanting and mystical verse shows that the real cure for melancholy is a good poem, never mind the horn.
Maryann Corbett brings new life to this old wen, masterfully rendered in a new playful and pliable tone. One almost wants to welcome a wen into their armpit, if only to hear this rapturous movement repeated once again.
Ars Medica Vol. 16 Pg. 21 | Anonymous Author Translated by Maryann Corbett
Kerri Konopka’s Phoenix Redux is a lyrical renaissance painting. Put on your grave clothes and grab your spade. Descend into this spiritual ascension.
Joseph Harms is a poet of astronomical significance, and Ichor is no different. Harms is a master of syntax-jumbled, thesaurus-thumped, sublime absurdities, and yet it comes off so naturally… it’s as though Harms has learned to write in tongues.
Jay Deshpande recalls a youth of unity, loneliness, and the rasp of oceans in this tranquil and cordial meditation.
Rebekah Devine embarks on a divine metamorphosis mirroring that of the maddened Nebuchadnezzar. With a frightful rigor she narrates her transformation, one placated by aquiline cud and plagued by a fear of God.
Sergei Linkov’s graphic verse gives dissection an erotic spin. A troubling (but nevertheless enthralling) poem composed of classical allusions and necrophilic illusions.
Isabelle Baladine Howald is expertly translated by Elena Rivera in this agile, frantic, and beautifully fallible work of music; the voice of a mother protecting her young.
Trafika Europe | Isabelle Baladine Howald translated by Elena Rivera
Ian Cappelli reaves apart prose with a delicate touch, and reminds us that a fracture is simply a second mouth.
Michael Brookbank probes the abyss for peace in this exemplary work of psychological space travel.
Nicole Lachat memorializes the labors of her mother in this moving glimpse into the personal struggles of the working class.
Jayne Marek makes the reviewer pity a ferret, but is the ferret the true protagonist? And what is the poet hiding? Whatever the case may be, though the weasel may be artificial, the verse is filled with life.
Malo Gledhill has the “how in God’s name is this working?” charm of Robert Hass, and with an exorbitant amount of tact, composes this surreal magnum opus of nonsense, physics, dry hilarity and self-loathing.
In the spirit of a metafictional Borges novel within novel within prose poem, Bryan Price’s fiery Novel Against Realism inquires literature, mythology, theology, and morality through serious verse.
Tara Campbell’s verse turns every reader into her vessel, and instantly glues the reviewer to the page.
Maia Zelkha wants more Dilaudid, and I concur that she should be given more Dilauded, if only to write another poem about needing more Dilaudid, because I want more poems about wanting more Dilauded, because Zelkha’s poem about Dilauded deserves to be lauded, and reading it is becoming an addiction.
Diane Seuss opens this poem with a yearning for better ideas, but I must say, I don’t know how her poetry could get any better. Seuss is a gargantuan talent, and this poem is yet another testament to that fact.
This is a revelatory meditation, and is far better read than summarized, but let it be known that the road to Montana is paved with crosses, and Ian Powell-Palm has written this tremendous elegy for a mass grave.
Helena Mesa has turned the critic into a tourist, dumbfoundedly genuflecting at the foot of her verse. This poem is a holy place, let no one enter without first paying their respects.
Superlatives to Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino, Joseph F. Keppler, Jacqueline Winter Thomas, Coleman Stevenson and Andreea Iulia Scridon, and plaudits to the poets Mariam Shergelashvili (Digital Wind Mantra), Irene Koronas (NHC II, 5; XIII, 2; Brit. Lib. Or. 4926(1)) and Calvin Olsen (translating João Luís Barreto Guimarães’ “Petals Overhead”) just to name a few. A fantastic publication with no shortage of fantastic poets, eratio has earned two more dedicated readers.
eratio | Gregory Vincent St. Thomasino, Joseph F. Keppler, Jacqueline Winter Thomas, Coleman Stevenson and Andreea Iulia Scridon
Babo Kamel masterfully unites nature and personal strife, pitying the trees as she weaves these “provocative threads” into quite an exhilarating read.
There will be only sighs of contentment after reading the brisk and buoyant verse of Chloe Martinez. This poem should not be left unlauded, but should be turned over for all the world to see.
Nothing is lost in translation in this medium bending masterwork of prose poetry. Chirico is done proud as John Bradley weaves from his painting a magnificent canvas of words.
Liam McLean orchestrates chaos with unbelievable, intoxicating precision. Bertilax Trax must be read, absorbed, subsumed. Waste no more time. Go, embark on the journey.
The title is an accurate description of this poem’s effect. John Amen leaves the reader breathless with this immortal elegy.
Cleo Muller has written the youngest, blondest, and prettiest poem I’ve read all week. Come, step into the ring and ride the bull.
Nicole Liu kisses her knuckles and punches straight through the page in this punk rock masterpiece.
Jealousy leapt from my lips when I first read this poem. The rabid eroticism, suppurating love! Laura Post has taken a pile of dirt and constructed Sodom, a torrid city, intoxicating in all its decay.