New American Writing 33 (2015)

 

New American Writing 33 (2015) is at the printer.  It contains work by David Mutschlecner, Martha Ronk, Elaine Equi, Carolyn Guinzio, Noelle Kocot, Linda Norton, Lance Phillips, Johannes Goransson, Joseph Lease, Joshua Corey, Alejandra Azuero, Richard Greenfield, Andrew Maxwell, rob mclennan, Caroline Knox, Catherine Wagner, HL Hazuka, Ed Smallfield, Valerie Coulton, Jane Joritz-Nakagawa, Kevin Phan, Christina Vega-Westhoff, Jennifer Givhan, Phillip Barron, Brandon Brown, CAConrad, John Sakkis, Gray Tolhurst, Steve Fujimura, Zoe Meints, Emilie Delcourt, George Life, Justin Robinson, and Alice Jones.  Subscriptions available, three issues for $36, single issues for $15, from New American Writing, 369 Molino Avenue, Mill Valley, CA 94941.  Distributed to bookstores and newsstands by Ingram Periodicals, also available from http://spdbooks.com.

desolation : souvenir

My book desolation : souvenir was published in early February by Omnidawn Publishing, and there was a publication event at Moe's Books in Berkeley. The book is available at stores includng Moe's and directly from Omnidawn, Small Press Distribution, and Amazon.com, among others. Thanks very much to Rusty Morrison and Ken Keegan.

Peter Burghardt's video of me reading: (http://vimeo.com/39803278)
Small Press Distribution: www.spdbooks.org.

Here are three pages of the of the 50-page title poem:

the taste of me is you

father is language

      mother its meaning

life is a sentence

      death is past time

the parents are aged

      by the death of their child

but her future is secure

      earth speaks trees

each clearing has its thicket

      mind its maze

her death is their pastime

      too short a life to discover

the shadows in a fire

      what future did she imagine

no time even

      to witness a change of fashion

the taste of me is you

the song is called an ‘air’

     the weight of earth is speaking

the loss of each word massive
     dead flowers, living grave

so poorly loved

     now dearly understood

our friend of the hours lost

      no desert to cross to save you

we were two of you

      & you were time aching

so sweet it’s almost suffering

     the ghost of us is passing

eternity really means it

we’ll fiercely live forever

      we who still remember

the bee inside a flower

      we let the moon run

because it is old

      and half underwater

have faith and you’ll eat dove
     in a dark corner of china 

its freshly chopped feet

      rolling in the broth

life is all the facts

      at the speed of attention

destiny’s souvenirs

      inexpensively purchased

a pair of stone scissors

      whatever calls out shining

children pretend to die

      come to life again, delighted