Showing posts with label spring break 2011. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spring break 2011. Show all posts

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Lynn Emanuel + Shaun Gannon



Yesterday's book was Hotel Fiesta by Lynn Emanuel from this two volume collection. Having read another of Emanuel's books, Then, Suddenly, I knew what I was getting myself into. She is a master of perception, of taking memory or perceived memory and fashioning into these mostly single-page poems. Stark images, a layering in the best way, pure emotional contained in the world of action, the physical. Emanuel often goes from an image in her life, a photograph, a painting, a memory, and delves into its world of possibilities. Out of it, she brings forth the beauty and the emotion and the real-life carnage that she finds. I wish I'd had time to read The Dig as well, but Emanuel's first book packed enough punch to hold me over for a long while.

I KNOW THIS SOUNDS LIKE A BLURB. THAT'S FUNNY. BUT IT'S A TRUE BLURB.

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I watched this video of my friend, Shaun Gannon, read his EPIC poem I AM SHAUN GANNON while I had breakfast. That's funny too.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

JOHN FREAKING BERRYMAN + Smalldoggies Magazine + BEARDZ



John Berryman's Dream Songs were at this dusty little bookstore in Colorado.

John Berryman's Dream Songs quickly found their way into my hands.

John Berryman's Dream Songs enraptured me for two weeks because IT WAS GREAT and IT WAS CONFUSING.

John Berryman's Dream Songs tuckered me out and were set aside around number 280.

John Berryman's Dream Songs snuck into my American Lit class.

John Berryman's Dream Songs should be in every American Lit/Poetry class ever.

John Berryman's Dream Songs make more "sense" now, I guess.

John Berryman's Dream Songs, more importantly, were picked back up by me yesterday.

John Berryman's Dream Songs were finished by me yesterday.

John Berryman's Dream Songs still make my head hurt, but OH YEAH THE PAIN IS GOOD.

Find more about my thoughts on The Dream Songs here.

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It's probably no secret that I think Smalldoggies Magazine is one of the hot things around the web right now. I mean, COME ON, I do contribute to a column there and yesterday, a group of my "On Poems" went up there. IF THAT'S NOT ENOUGH TO BE WICKED COOL I DON'T KNOW WHAT. That's a joke.

Smalldoggies Magazine main dude Matty Byloos keeps it real. There is a beautiful word buffet waiting FOR FREE. So much developing there and so much gonna happen. I'm so stoked to be a part of it (EVEN A TINY PART).

The Vouched/me/Smalldoggies connection came about after I posted this Vouch of Smalldoggies.

Since then, there has been a ton of cool stuff at Smalldoggies, like poems by J.A. Tyler and Adam Robinson, these interviews with old students by Mickey Hess and a bunch of cool reviews.

My favorite thing is probably this sweet interview with my bud Mel Bosworth. Full of knowledge and heart and cool.

CHECK OUT SMALLDOGGIES MAGAZINE BEFORE IT CHECKS YOU OUT

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Professorpal Todd is growing a beard. He is blogging about it. He featured me and my beard on the blog today (ALONG WITH PETER FREAKING DAVIS). NICE.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Monday's Book + Bob Hicok Reading


The Pill versus the Springhill Mine Disaster by Richard Brautigan

I loved Trout Fishing and a couple friends talked up these poems, so I was like Okay.

I highly admire Brautigan's gusto to push forms, to think outside of the norm, to not be afraid to say something.

One question: at what point does a short, funny piece cross the line (either way) between a poem and a joke?

I'm not accusing Brautigan of anything negative. I did really enjoy these poems.

He is a master of the short form it seems, prose or poetry, because of his ability to turn hints into statements.

A good example of this:

A Widow's Lament

It's not quite cold enough
to go borrow some firewood
from the neighbors.


I often have trouble letting a feeling or image stand alone in my poems, wanting to mesh it with others, wanting it to be fun and moving and fast and energetic.

In this book, I realized, when done right, something this simple can be heavier than thou.

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Last night, I went to Indianapolis to see Bob Hicok read. (BUTLER HAS SUCH A SWEET READING SERIES)

I've read a few Hicok books and the things he publishes in the journals I read. I'd call myself a good-sized fan (165 POUNDS OF POETRY LOVIN' DUDE), especially of his style. The humor-to-get-to-the-heavy-stuff feels so real life to me, like how we usually start out social interactions, even ones with big complications like a breakup, with jokes or light conversation. Read also: the repetition and discursiveness.

I was surprised by his reading style. Maybe naively, I expected more energy and more talk between pieces. Instead, he read as calmly as anyone I've seen, especially when I take into account the fact that it wasn't boring. HE WAS A DELIVERER.

Oh yes, it was a fabulous experience, me doing my weird headshake, scribbling in my notebook, trying to muster up the courage to ask a question. I DIDNT, though I had a few.

I did talk to him after, about Virginia Tech (a school to which I'm applying), his new book, and (ashamedly?) myself. I kept going back and forth about telling him I'm applying to VT, but I did it, I told him, and he was like OUR STIPEND IS GREAT. Also, he wrote in one of my books, "Good luck getting into a school." LOLZ.

DO I ADD THIS CLUMSY LIVING TO THIS WEEK'S READINGS? OR TOO SOON?

Another great reading with my cool set of pals, Tyler, Sara, and Cody.

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