What's New

What Potent Blood Hath Modest May

May 1, 2010 - by Catty Marlboro

MIDWEST ASININERY: Those of you who live in the great Asinine Belt of our nation will want to make sure to attend the upcoming Asinine Poetry reading on May 29 (NOT the 15th, like it says on the flier — long story) at the Ritual Cafe in Des Moines (that’s in Iowa). Check it out:

WHAT, NO QUICKIE?: Well, we were going to have another 48-HOUR CHALLENGE, this time for a rhymer about Momma’s Day, maybe combined with the Icelandic volcano, but just as we were about to announce it, poet Euretha Maki sent us in her Mom poem, so it felt let we covered the topic. However, Eyjafjallajokull is still ripe for poetry.

THIS ISSUE’S HACKS: Like I was saying, Nashian poet Euretha Maki puts the major May holiday in perspective. Now, don’t you think you should send those roses? Or not send the packaged roadkill? Jersey-born Janice Wentley may be unfamiliar to many readers. If her work is intellectual, it is naturally so, for Wentley is a scholar of suburban poetry. If her work is difficult, this owes mainly to its allegiance to a genealogy of experimental poetics that includes those by Nipsey Russell. But we will hear more about her in the coming years not because of either of these things, but because she writes poems that are both tortured by and rather bored about the relationship of language to the self and its relatives and neighbors, without sounding either indulgent or technical or even halfway sane. Her latest contribution is a Heideggerian meditation on the Garden State. Speaking of Heideggerian meditation, Gale Acuff premieres in the journal with a telling family tale. Also debuting, Paul Hostovsky believes joy has gone to the dogs. Another newbie, Heather Dubrow also deconstructs the recipe for happiness. Speaking of recipes, Daniel Thomas Moran’s latest poem has nothing to do with them. And speaking of flowers, Vincent J. Sparrow goes back in time to stop the birth of his own poem. The thought of which may turn you into the title of the debut poem by Marc Carver. Garrulous Gary Lehmann paints of piquant picture of past masters. Ryan Quinn Flanagan throws salt down before reading his new poem. In other newness, Marina Rubin’s new prose selection takes a bite of Russian fashion. And in the classics section, Hilaire Belloc thanks heaven for little girls.

No Comments »

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL

Leave a comment