New Books In Poetry

Tina Escaja‘s, Free Fall/Caida libre, translated by Mark Eisner (Fomite Press, 2015), is an exceptional example of poetry in translation as artistic collaboration. Poetry exists outside of the margins, and this often creates an insurmountable task for those seeking to relay emotion, realization, and epiphany across language barriers. The nuances and inflections of colloquialism and historical, cultural understandings can be lost. We, as readers of translation often wonder, what is kept of the music and what is kept of the intent? Translations can only bring us to the precipice–language allows us to take the plunge. We must trust our translators to be lovers of verse. Escaja works in an experimental form that is most likened to the cycle inherent in life, death, and rebirth. Even throughout the lines and stanzas, there is a stopping and starting again, a dropping off and returning. Recuperarnos quiero. Aprender a nacerme de otra en ti. Sin vuelta posible. Sin colchon salvavidas, sin suturas. Caidal

Every poet has their obsessions and for James Franco they are childhood, gender, sex, innocence, and the work place he knows best: the film industry. Within these poetic frames we’re introduced to various voices, landscapes nearly worn out with elegy, and a repertoire of imagery that is both tender and violent. Franco is our poet of earnest grotesquerie, favoring clarity to vagueness as he depicts the bizarre zones of early experience that crash against poems of adulthood that occupy spaces most readers do not have access to: film and celebrity. However, Franco’s poems seem to argue that a kinship exists between the world of the adolescent and the world of a movie set. In his poems, we see the intersection of both and the distinctions between sincerity and artifice are blurred and complicated by a speaker who seems simultaneously anchored in both of these perceptual districts. In addition to Franco’s fidelity to the bramble of childhood memory and glittering industrial complex of show busine

In Lady of the Moon (Headmistress Press, 2015), the reader is graced not only with the poetry of Amy Lowell, but with sonnets in response and a scholarly essay on the poet’s life, love, and work. Amy Lowell lived and wrote in a time when she could not be entirely herself, could not fully claim her rightful space among the great writers of love poetry and celebrations of the beloved. She had to reveal her truths by hiding them. As much as she cloaked her work, shifted genders of speaker and beloved, the truth of the poems resonate now as unabashed declarations of love and desire for her partner, Ada Russel. This collection places the relationship with Russel at the forefront in such a way that it honors what could not be honored before. But this is true of most of the work published by Headmistress Press: necessary voices are given the mic before it is too late, a safe space is offered for rumination on gender, sexuality, and all spectrums of identification, and the work of poets like Amy Lowell is given

Winner of the Gazing Grain 2015 Chapbook contest, BIG BROWN BAGby Marisa Crawford is our final Chapbookapalooza installment. And what a way to end a glorious month of celebrating this small form. Set within the behind-the-scenes confines a fictional department store that rings true as a multitude of department stores, Crawford brings us an inner monologue in conversation. Does this seem counterintuitive? Think of the way we engage with society and community. Think of the struggles we endure to locate ourselves within and without those groups. “Goody’s” is less setting than state of being. There is a long history of poets as cultural critics, poets as clear, focused lens and Crawford has learn to trust her subjectivity or at least quiet her mind enough to understand it. Her speaker grapples with the things we need to do in order to survive while remaining clear-headed about boundaries and priorities. By internalizing criticism, the world I processed in bits and pieces. The poems have a colloq

Dynamite (Bull City Press, 2015) is transit distilled. Anders Carlson-Wee‘s poems employ movement as mechanism and movement as reverence in a journey that most dream of making yet few ever do. On a cross-country train trip, brothers Kai and Anders armed themselves with a video camera, a secret language of bird calls, and minds tuned to verse. Watch the coal-dust cook in the wind-eddies. Watch it linger. Watch it spiral thinly as it bruises the blue-faded mind of the buffalo sky. We must be the pupil that swells in the coming darkness. The cargo worth carrying across the distances. There is not a single moment where it is safe to pull yourself from the collection, not a moment to disengage with shifting landscape, memory, and the ruthless bonds of family. This chapbook will make you want to write and remind you of when this country was experienced viscerally, when we refused the lure of complacent stasis and chased pure adventure. Watch their video here and wish them well at the Nappa Valley Film Festiva

When Denise Levertov called Lynn Strongin a “true poet,” she recognized an awareness that transcended the young poet’s age. This very human awareness can come with suffering. Inflicted with Polio as a child, Strongin speaks with a voice that understands states of varied ability, that knows real pain, and has navigated the way relationships change in the face of illness. Composed entirely in singlets, The Burn Poems (Headmistress Press, 2015) pull at strings of understanding until meaning has unraveled and reassembled itself. There is a longing that emanates the pieces, a longing well-learned and well-developed that shifts its focus, but never loses intensity. I want her to stay Close Not paralyzed like me But content in her apron of photography: printed, filmic security The image holy, holy, holy. Bliss comes like flare of lit match And can be blown out as quickly: By word It is rare for one to realize their conversation is inhabiting a moment of history-yet-to-come as it actively engages th

Alexis Rhone Fancher‘s State of Grace: The Joshua Elegies (KYSO Flash Press, 2015) is not an “easy” collection. This is not a group of poems that you can take on the train for mere entertainment or to pass the time. These pieces demand the reader to be present, open, and willing to inhabit the suffering of another human being. But in this presence of mind, connections are made. Since the death of her son in 2007, Fancher has written fourteen elegies that create a road map of her grief spanning eight years. These poems can be difficult to absorb, I often found myself needing to retreat from their content, literally step away from the page. I think of “poems as process,” meaning the need to express is greater than the need to retreat. I think of “poems as companions,” meaning that these pieces reach out to others deep in grief. I think of appreciation– this poet has contributed to poetry in a significant way. This poet is brave. I liked the pain, the dig of rememb

The poem fragments in Hope Wabuke‘s Movement No. 1: Trains (Dancing Girl Press, 2015) function more as meditations than portions of a whole. They meditate on movement’s power over the body and mind. What are the vessels that carry our bodies through cities, from home to beyond? Who are the people inhabiting our thoughts, moving our mind from idea to emotion to dream? the city is color electric, neon; the humming static pulsing further away. and she understands the way a charge moves through air in the meeting of two bodies, but she does not understand the afterwards, the pressing of a thing into the shape of something else. These poems appear gentle but do not be deceived by the calm voice. Trains shudder and jolt, tracks shift and bump. There is a recognition of longing present each time the beloved is invoked, and a reluctant understanding that when in motion, the familiar becomes foreign.Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In her macabre pastoral landscape Fiddle is Flood (Blood Pudding Press, 2015), Lauren Gordon conjures up a persona far-reaching enough to grapple with loss, grief, and the shock of intense change. But the poet does not hide behind the personal, instead she allows the speaker to become loss, become grief, and quake at the shock of a life turned on its head. Using colloquial language and the cadence of hymn to a mesmerizing affect, Gordon pulls the reader into a melding of prairie, nostalgia, and memory: …endless, endless prairie for corn and mud and loss and dirt and the seeds and the silky tassel of half truths and how you find God in the middle of a haystack naked and crouching and warm and how you found yourself in love with a doll make out of a corn cob whose skin became your own, dried and sheared and real. Childhood musings of Laura Ingalls Wilder and “Little House on the Prairie” fuel the mixing of real and imagined, of the body before loss and the body after. This collection only appe

Think of a place you have visited and to which you feel a connection. Now think of that place in utter ruin and devastation mere months later. You feel a pull, a pull to return, to help, and to make sense of the heavy fist nature can bring down on us at any time. Tomlinson personally gathered hours upon hours of eye-witness accounts, conversations, and testimonies. Translated and then transcribed, he pulled the poems directly from the transcriptions, as a sculptor would uncover a human form from within a block of marble. These poems go beyond what we understand as “poems of witness” and become “poems of testimony,” life rendered into verse in the purest sense. we saw the barge as well as the darkening of the world my house was nothing the barge was on top of our house and the houses were gone my house it was nothing anymore a little portion of a steel bar Through the disassociation needed to survive such trauma and begin to reshape rubble into a life, moments of clarity and realization

As pleasing to the eye as it is to the ear the contents of Meta Sama‘s le animal and other creatures (Miel Press, 2015) remind us that creativity takes many forms and seeks many tributaries out to the sea of expression. The divisions apparent in this chapbook actually function as bridges from one creative process to another. Just as Sama’s poems take surprising lefts and rights to form a winding map of a given poem’s voice, the entire collection juts out and dips in, in such a way that a pattern is formed. Each deviation from this pattern heightens the experience of the poem while adding additional depth to the whole. This is all to say that Sama’s work is functioning on multiple levels, stimuli absorbed through multiple senses, and textual conversations taking place independent of the text– and you need to read up to keep up. tantrums are failed objects broken over the italicized moon… hold until shatter poppy or pollen until pixelated or love… the back waxing and w

When I first read Suzanne Bottelli‘s The Feltville Formation (Finishing Line Press, 2015), I was struck by the quietude and steadiness of the poems. Often in tercets, the stanzas stand like columns seeking to rebuild what was once strong. What do lovers of history do but seek to shore up foundations of the past so that the present may tread upon them? Bottelli not only researched this 19th-Century utopian town-left-derelict, it is also part of the landscape from her New Jersey childhood. The poems straddle the block of time from Feltville, to ruin, to the nostalgia of looking back 30 years and 3,000 miles. — for the moments marking the standing still of time, even if time does not stand still, or it does, and we move through it which is the incomprehensible fact of it, or at least one small pebble of fact in the face of it. The larger question these poems wonder after is, what do we do with what has been left behind?Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

With air-tight verse and talent for the surreal, Ross White invokes a sibling version of our world in his new collection How We Came Upon the Colony (Unicorn Press, 2014). By tilting our view slightly to the left, he allows us to ask necessary questions of the familiar. How entitled are we to our many geographic and spiritual colonies? Has our idea of Manifest Destiny merely shifted from Westward Expansion to industry in a world that has stretched far beyond “local” but retains the individuality loaned to us by Capitalism? Can history itself be colonized? These are the poems of a mind at work sorting out an individual and shared history. That White could contain such worlds in clean and steady lines, speaks to his mastery of craft. He seeks to illuminate rather than explain, and to offer possibilities rather than moral solutions. In proof that we should still sit in wonder at these strange real and imagined worlds, the reader is left with this final image: When there is no light, the farmer smokes

Does form make the poem? Robert Frost claimed that writing free verse poetry was “like playing tennis without a net.” Ryo Yamaguchi‘s poetry challenges the notion of imposing our will and wonders after the permeability of content. This poet understands the subjectivity of perception and does not insist on form, but instead loosely allows the verse to be contained. These are the experiences of a wandering poet–one who has known many containers, natural and man-made, who knows how little the natural world tolerates containment; how felled redwoods will sprout new life from up from their horizontal trunks and wisteria will climb and reach with the wide berth of the sun’s rays. But Yamaguchi does not write rainforests and plains, he writes the internal life, the interactions, the “urban sublime” and gives it the reach the natural world. He finds amazement in all versions of beauty. Say I never understood the definition of purpose, why bore, flux, revise, tender, ensconce,

Poetry is far more than crafting verse. Poetry is a way of thought and a way of being. It seeps into every aspect of a poet’s life only to reveal that it is the life that seeped into poetry. In a series of letters penned to “Continuum,” Mariahadessa Ekere Tallie offers hard won wisdom and a glimpse at an ideal. She takes “Continuum” and the reader through her journey of discovery and coming into being as an artist. “Dear Continuum” is about access; access to mentorship, access to reading lists, access to doubt, and discovery. There was a tangible need within the community for a book like this. It was quite literally asked for, and Tallie answered that call. I would like to think that we poets are the “Continuum,” or that it exists on a different plane of being, one that can be tapped into, just as we do with poetry. The states of birth, coming to being, death and rebirth are as infinite as art–are part of the continuum. In the poet’s own words

Karina Borowicz‘s collection Proof (Codhill Press, 2014) in three parts is a slow emerging, a crawling toward understanding. In a way that only the patience of adulthood looking back on adolescence can muster, a child’s coming to consciousness is revered — and this poet is patient. This poet will sit in waiting for the precise moment to rip the sheet off the marble block to reveal a labor of love. Every child is born he says knowing the language of trees– for so long our unformed ear is pressed to the wall of eternity The poems move from tactile to ephemeral as the speaker redefines herself through the reflections of a new culture. In her inventory of discovery, we see the menacing undertone of adolescence. With awareness comes the understanding the natural world. With the awareness of the natural world comes an understanding of violence. Finally, the poet confronts linear time to offer up to the reader the possibility that we are existing on all planes (past, present, and future), sim

Four years in the making, Brett Fletcher Lauer and Lynn Melnick have released an anthology into the hands of a new generation of readers, writers, and listeners. Please Excuse This Poem: 100 Poets for the Next Generation (Viking, 2015) features 100 contemporary poets whose work adolescents and adults alike will connect with and enjoy. Beyond poems, Melnick and Lauer have asked thought-provoking questions of their contributors and offered a means for readers to reach out to the poets via social media. Readers will also be surprised to find an additional, “secret” anthology hidden in these questions. Listen to the interview for a glimpse into the process and to hear five poets from across the country read their work. We are grateful that such a collection exists and encourage our listeners to get one for themselves and any young person who would benefit from being reminded that their experiences matter; our experiences connect us.Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Mass-produced, fake, sentimental, easily digestible: when we think of kitsch these elements often come to mind. Furthermore, kitsch is almost always associated with material culture, but in Daniel Tiffany‘s new book, My Silver Planet: A Secret History of Poetry and Kitsch (John Hopkins University Press, 2014), the author complicates our notions of kitsch by entangling it with the modern development of poetry. By analyzing the ballad-revival of the eighteenth-century and moving the reader through modernism and then right into the avant-garde, Tiffany shows us how poetic kitsch serves as a bridge between elite and vernacular cultures. In My Silver Planet, Tiffany has given us an ambitious genealogy of kitsch and its crucial relationship to diction, showing us how language itself complicates class distinctions, divides and unifies disparate cultural energies, and leaves us to wonder exactly what we mean – what are the social and political implications – when we describe anything as kitsch.Learn

To read this collection is to enter into a world of dimly lit rooms with candle light shimmering off errant metallic surfaces. It is mystical, it is brutal, and it unflinchingly stares down a history that some folks block out to merely survive the day. Amnesiac, you become American. Historian, you remain a Jew. Your story begins: the book open like supplicant palms. Strike your words with an exacting hand. Rachel Mennies is that exacting and sure hand, guiding you from room to room through her family’s rich and difficult past. Oral history and folklore are necessary parts of our humanity. Stories live inside us and are altered by us, but remain “true.” These poems are true in the way that our skin knows the wind is blowing. The Glad Hand of God Points Backwards (Texas Tech University Press, 2014) does more than document realities, it brings itself to live in the speaker’s family as an entity, a gentle presence that should remain unstirred but revered. This text will live many lives.Lea

When Xu Lizhi committed suicide on September 30, 2014, he left a substantial body of work for his brief 24 years. In his poetry, he displayed an awareness that haunted him and now haunts us. He was a factory worker for the infamous Foxconn who produces most of the world’s iPhones. The bleak reality and gray landscape that Xu Lizhi inhabited in his work feels other-worldly and rare. But he is not an anomaly. The sad truth is that his poems could have been written by many different workers spread out over many nations. As well as setting his social media to post of “A New Day” after his passing, he leaves us with these final thoughts: I want to take another look at the ocean, behold the vastness of tears from half a lifetime I want to climb another mountain, try to call back the soul that I’ve lost I want to touch the sky, feel that blueness so light But I can’t do any of this, so I’m leaving this world We have entered a time of global awareness and it is coming through in ou