May’s News

Good news, interviews, publications & reviews for & from our contributors.

 

 

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Dry Spell (Porkbelly Press, 2016)
by Patrick Kindig

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Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the Middle of the Night (Porkbelly Press, 2015) by E. Kristin Anderson » www.ekristinanderson.com

  • Raiding” up on Glass Poetry‘s Poets Resist & “The Worn Places” (erasure) in the May issue of Glass Poetry Journal.
  • New found poems at SWWIM, source: Foo Fighters.
  • New centos up at Moonchild Magazine.

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Dreamland for Keeps (Porkbelly Press, 2018) & How Darkness Enters a Body (Porkbelly Press, 2018) by Sarah Nichols » @onibaba37

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April’s Good Stuff

News & new things from/with/about poets & writers in the Porkbelly family.

 

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Dreamland for Keeps (Porkbelly Press, 2018) & How Darkness Enters a Body (Porkbelly Press, 2018) by Sarah Nichols » @onibaba37

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Found Footage (Porkbelly Press, 2018)
by Maggie Woodward

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Set the Garden on Fire (Porkbelly Press, 2015)
by Chen Chen » chenchenwrites.com

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Love Me, Anyway (Porkbelly Press, 2018)
by Minadora Macheret

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Apples or Pomegranates (Porkbelly Press, 2017)
by Anita Olivia Koester » anitaoliviakoester.com

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Blackbird Whitetail Redhand (Porkbelly Press, 2018)
by Lindsay Lusby » lindsaylusby.com

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A Map of the Farm Three Miles from the End of Happy Hollow Road (Porkbelly Press, 2016) by Amorak Huey » amorakhuey.net

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Dry Spell (Porkbelly Press, 2016)
by Patrick Kindig

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The Girl (Porkbelly Press, 2017)
by Donna Vorreyer

  • a new piece, “Painting Which is in Fact Not a Sky” is up in Juxtaprose.

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Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the Middle of the Night (Porkbelly Press, 2015) by E. Kristin Anderson » www.ekristinanderson.com

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Dreamland for Keeps // Sarah Nichols

Dreamland for Keeps is a whisper in the dark giving voice to Elizabeth Short through poetry of erasure. Nichols’ poems return agency to the spirit of a woman so often sensationalized, examining Short’s many names, her impression forever etched on the American consciousness. For her, death is not the end of the story; in some ways the puzzle is never solved.  (Porkbelly Press, 2018) » more info

Excerpt

WHAT DARKNESS BRINGS ME

When I ask,
the dark

offers me its
gifts.

A tree of eyes. A
hand in a jar,

its owner, lost.

I swallowed a
wedding ring,

once.

It tasted like
dust and tears.

Bone and gold.

Blackbird Whitetail Redhand // Lindsay Lusby

Blackbird Whitetail Redhand (by Lindsay Lusby) is a book of chaos, transformation, and all the little possibilities tangled beneath the night clover. It is a simultaneously tumultuous and quiet narrative of bodily autonomy and the sacrifices needed to achieve it. These are poems rattled with the snapping of bear traps and the sharp, tangy bite of an ax kissing the trunk of a tree. Lusby leaves you asking: is she the sweet flesh of the fruit fruit or the sharp teeth? Listen for cloven feet over the thicket. If you catch sight of her, marvel at her mottled heart. Be careful not to make a sound, “she’ll move like scattershot” if you do. (Porkbelly Press, 2018) » more info

excerpt

tremble

March’s Good Stuff

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Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the Middle of the Night (Porkbelly Press, 2015) by E. Kristin Anderson » www.ekristinanderson.com

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The Girl (Porkbelly Press, 2017)
by Donna Vorreyer » donnavorreyer.com

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Ghost Tongue (Porkbelly Press, 2016)
by Nicole Rollender » www.nicolerollender.com

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Ghost Skin (Porkbelly Press, 2016) & gar child (Porkbelly Press, 2018)
by Wren Hanks » tumblr

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Love Me, Anyway (Porkbelly Press, 2018)
by Minadora Macheret

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Diary of a Filthy Woman (Porkbelly Press, 2018)
by Noor Hindi

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Dreamland for Keeps (Porkbelly Press, 2018) & How Darkness Enters a Body (Porkbelly Press, 2018) by Sarah Nichols » @onibaba37

The Blessings of the Guns” appears in Five:2:One.

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Centralia (Porkbelly Press, 2015)
by Sarah Gzemski » sgzemski.com

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Feeding the Dead (Porkbelly Press, 2016)
by M. Brett Gaffney

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Diary of a Filthy Woman // Noor Hindi

DIARY OF A FILTHY WOMAN is shot through with desire, standing firm in its ground as protest, as prayer, as command. Hindi masterfully weaves vulnerability and strength, pain with sharp determination—she is tempered steel, she is flame, she is fierce in her direction: “Make a bonfire out of want. // Jump into it.” (Porkbelly Press, 2018) » more

excerpt

filthywomanwrites

About the poet

Noor Hindi is currently pursuing her MFA in poetry through the NEOMFA program. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Glass Poetry, Jet Fuel Review, Diode Poetry, Whiskey Island Magazine, Flock Literary Journal, and Foundry. She reads poetry for The University of Akron Press and writes for The Devil Strip Magazine. Check out her blog at noorhindi.com. ​

Love Me, Anyway // Minadora Macheret

Love Me, Anyway examines the body in all of its imperfect glory, surviving chronic illness, and growing into womanhood haunted. Macheret explores the mother/daughter relationship, bridging years of absence with the filaments of the speaker’s own identity, weaving together mother/daughter body/body illness/illness, at once writing letters to herself and the ghost of her mother, still so present in the mirror. “Her ancestors: a current in which she bathes,” she leaves nothing behind, “Dear disease,” she writes: “Please gentle the body—thicken it with sleep.” This collection is tender and honest, bones laid bare, “god-struck” with longing, and stretched wide.  (Porkbelly Press, 2018) » available in our shop » full details

EXCERPT

(SELF) EXTINCTION: AN ELEGY FOR ALL MY DEAD WOMEN

i.

the day you disappeared,
the sports bra made my ribcage
cinch my sharp spine inward
push prepubescent breasts outward
I didn’t know my hormones perched
bodies open waiting for your sign.
Maybe they need a mother
like trail guides, climb the ridge
of my sex—bud into being
and without her? Become unnecessary.

ii.

my father brought home a woman
she promised his children an instant of forever
an herb garden stamped the placement of her feet,
of lavender-lush, those thyme tracked trails.
She taught me necessity, green thumb on her brow,
be my Demeter—
stretch-wide my mother’s ghost.

iii.

every seven days cells replace themselves
every three years I replace my mother.

iv.

in smoky bars you hung
to the curve of bar stools,
mistaken I pressed my lips
to the outline of your shot glass,
I blurred into other.
Breathe me out sweet, Daisy—
before I forget you.

v.

you were an indent of laughter
paintings bloomed from your mouth.

Now, your body sea-strewn,
your words suture me closed.

about the poet

Minadora Macheret is a Ph.D. student and Teaching Fellow at the University of North Texas. She is a Poetry Editor for Devilfish Review and the Co-Coordinator of Poets in Pajamas Reading Series. Her poetry has won the Sigma Tau Delta First Place Poetry Award, Seaton Fellowship, and other awards. Her work has appeared in Tinderbox Poetry JournalRed Paint HillRogue AgentConnotation Press, and elsewhere.