AWP Is NOT Us

Over years of working on literary publications, I have never felt particularly compelled to self-disclose as a radical queer editor, instead hoping that the writers I support would make clear my editorial interests. Today, Red Hen Press editor Kate Gale’s tone-deaf, reactionary—perhaps satirical?—piece “AWP Is Us,” posted at Huffington Post, illustrates publishing’s implicit & explicit… Continue reading AWP Is NOT Us

Franny Choi

This poem rips and tears. A must-read. To the Man Who Shouted “I Like Pork Fried Rice” at Me on the Street by Franny Choi : Poetry Magazine. Glad Poetry magazine is printing some interesting work. I cancelled my subscription last year because everything they printed was garbage.

Day #12

Inheritance after Cassandra de Alba Slivers of soap marking years like tree rings fused into a pillar; a collection of clown figurines glowering over the duct-taped couch; glass, marble, and plastic eggs embossed with Florida and Eloise; jars caked in ancient dust, a coffee can rattling baby teeth, yellowed newspapers barking the end of the… Continue reading Day #12

Day #3

Funeral for Home Watercolor paper stacked rough as old hands-- heater grates open to a desert. Florence Boulevard smolders in inch-deep volcano ash-- thick merlot carpet petrifies like bone. A ghost kicks dirt in the basement. Long hairs drizzle the bathtub. Hornets lull the dead, fruit drops and worms feast.

#NaPoWriMo

In preparation for the inception of NaPoWriMo--an intense thirty-day poetry binge for those of us paralyzed by fears of audience, topic, detail, and ourselves--we discuss why anyone would put themselves through the torturous process of writing a bad poem draft every single day. The answer? Lots of wine. It's almost April, which means baby animals, Earth… Continue reading #NaPoWriMo