Jul, 24 2019 | no responses
Images are repeated and inverted; sentences flip syntax along with their corresponding sounds. All this builds into a dense brick of repeated words so tightly woven that it appears a singular object.
Poetry
Jul, 23 2019 | no responses
I approach a new book by Yau as I do a new film by my favorite auteur director: I don’t watch the preview, I just crave more evidence of the artist’s mind at work.
Everyone Rides the Bus in a City of Losers
Jul, 22 2019 | no responses
Charting this particular topography of the down-and-out, Freure picks up the flip side of success and examines it through the specific locality of Montreal.
Jul, 18 2019 | no responses
The arc of the book is one spent living in and thinking about mountains where the landscape is mapped in drawings, traced through walks, experienced through pain, defined in books, and remembered with past companions—human and animal.
Jul, 16 2019 | no responses
What I call my good intentions get the best of me. / During week two of the semester I have students // place an asterisk each time shame shows up / in the excerpt of a memoir whose author’s take // on affirmative action & bilingualism I take for / internalized whitewashing.
As the Stars Burrow against My Ribs
Jul, 16 2019 | no responses
I elegy. This bright morning unsayable / as the sentence of the woman who died / in daylight as her children climbed her still / body in a hospital bed.