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November 2006
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first-book & other interviews:


$650 apartment for $650
aaron mccollough
ada limon
al filreis
almost i rushed from home
adam clay
amanda earl
amy king's blog
annandale dream gazette
a peek of reach
a sad day for sad birds
asthma chronicles
attention without a me
a tonalist notes
a view from the potholes
a walk around the lake
bemsha swing
bewilderment inc.
big window
black and white
the blind chatelaine's keys
bob marcacci
both both
brandon brown
bread and jam for frances
the brother swimming beneath me
the burning chair
cahiers de corey
can of corn
catherine daly's blog
chicago postmodern poetry
chicana poetics
chicks dig poetry
clay matthews

collin kelley
critical fiction
culture industry
dbqp: visualizing poetics
delirious hem
the desert city
the dishwasher's tears
DIY poetics
DIY publishing
do gummi bears dream
effing blog
elective annoyance
elephant seals negate
esther press
eyeball hatred 
fait accompli
fewer & further
frank sherlock
fringe matters
geneva convention
goodness gracious
harlequin knights
here comes everybody
hg poetics
home-schooled by a cackling jackal
human's animal
hyacinth losers
i am yer grammer
i'll show you mine
in place of chairs
intagliod up in blue
iron caisson
ironstone whirlygig
isola di rifiuti
ivy is here
jake adam york
jane dark's sugarhigh!
jeannine blogs
kaya oakes
lance phillips
leftover flying
lemon hound
lime tree
little red's recovery room
love and coffee
the lovely arc
lovers' last go around
lutheran surrealism
maryrose larkin
mindful ramblings
minimalist concrete poetry
minor american
modern americans
mr. tong bliss' journal
the neglectorino project
nervous unto thirst
never mind the beasts

nice guy syndrome
nothing to say and saying it
now then
omnidawn blog
paul hoover's poetry blog
the pangrammaticon
peek thru the pines
philly sound
poetry hut
poesy galore
poets' corner
poet with a day job
pshares blog
pudgy pigeon enterprises
pugnacious pinoy
qbdp: the mailartworks
radish king
reader of depressing books
reli[e]able signs
reginald shepherd's blog
rob mclennan's blog
rocket kids
rue hazard
samizdat blog
sandra alland's blog-like entity
sandra simonds swims and swims
say something wonderful
serif of nottingham
shanna compton's blog
silliman's blog
slicker chumway's
slim windows
spoke to the world on the phone
spooks by me
stamped & metered flying fish
the steinach operation
stephen vincent
texfiles in bahrain
they shoot poets don't they
third factory
this is all your fault
this morning in poetry
tom raworth's notes
twenty thousand thousand
the unquiet grave
unreliable narrator
virgin formica
voices in utter dark
voix off
the well-nourished moon
what an errand knave
wild horses of fire
wind meals
wood s lot
the word cage
yes, starlings! yes!

you are here
ysleta poeta
zach barocas

journals/small press/reviews:

6 X 6
abraham lincoln
above/ground press
absent magazine
action yes
ahsahta press
alice blue
big game
bird dog
black lodge press
black ocean press
the brooklyn rail
calamari press
chax press
coldfront magazine
the constant critic
the cultural society
cy gist press
cy press
effing press
faux press e chapbooks
fewer & further press
flim forum press
free verse
galatea resurrects
g o n g press
half empty/half full
the hat
hot whiskey press
hooke press
horse less press
house press
how2/barbara guest memory bank
katalanche press
kitchen press
konundrum engine literary review
la petite zine
lame house press
little red leaves
new pages
no tell motel

omg press
the page
phylum press

poetry 365
the poker
portable press at yo-yo labs
rain taxi
rhubarb is susan
rose metal press
rust buckle
skanky possum
sona books
tool a magazine
three candles
transmission press
ugly duckling presse
wintered press
wire sandwich
word for/word

selby's list


The Continental Review
Kelly Writers House webcasts

miPOradio POdcast
Naropa archives
Rabbit Light Movies
to the sound
a voice box




every other day

16 NOV 06

Today and Tomorrow

This afternoon, Max & I are driving west & south to Philadelphia. I'll be reading at the Kelly Writers House on the Penn campus, 3508 Locust Walk, at 6 pm--the second installment of the Emergency Reading Series. I'm reading first, followed by Jason Zuzga and Noah Eli Gordon. There will be some form of discussion or Q&A following the reading--something I haven't done before. Curious to see what we can get up to.

Jason Zuzga is a PhD student in English at the University of Pennsylvania and he is the nonfiction editor of FENCE magazine. He was the 2005-2006 James Merrill Poet-in-Residence in Stonington, CT, and a 2001-2002 Provincetown Fine Arts Work Center Writing Fellow.

Noah Eli Gordon will have two books out in 2007: Novel Pictorial Noise (selected by John Ashbery for the 2006 National Poetry Series) and A Fiddle Pulled From the Throat of a Sparrow (New Issues, winner of the Green Rose Prize). He is the author of the book-length poem The Frequencies (Tougher Disguises, 2003), a collection of three long poems The Area of Sound Called the Subtone (Ahsahta Press, 2004, selected by Claudia Rankine for the Sawtooth Prize). Ugly Duckling Presse recently published That We Come To A Consensus, a chapbook written in collaboration with Sara Veglahn. He teaches creative writing at the University of Colorado at Denver.

Then on Friday (17 November) I'll take trains north & southeast to Brooklyn, to read with Janet Holmes and Justin Marks in the MiPo Reading Series, hosted by Amy King (with Shanna Compton acting as a special co-host for the evening). 7 pm at the Stain Bar, 766 Grand St. (the L train to Grand, 1 block west).

Justin Marks is the editor of LIT magazine. His chapbook You Being You by Proxy is out on Kitchen Press. His full length manuscript Twenty Five Hours in Iceland and Other Poems was a finalist for the 2006 May Swenson Poetry Award. He lives in New York City.

Janet Holmes is the author of 4 books of poetry, The Physicist at the Mall (Anhinga, 1994), The Green Tuxedo (Notre Dame, 1998), Humanophone (Notre Dame, 2001), and, just out, F2F (also from Notre Dame). She is the director of Ahsahta Press, an all-poetry publishing house at Boise State University, where she has taught in the MFA program since 1999.

Ahsahta Press? Yes, Janet is my editor. You knew that. Her hand, which I have yet to shake, plucked my manuscript from the open submission pile. I am looking forward to meeting her! and to sitting with her somewhere in real time with a map, to work out details of the book tour we'll be doing together in the year ahead.

So far, nothing special planned for Saturday. Back to work?


14 NOV 06


12 NOV 06

How has your first book changed your life?

40.  Jennifer L. Knox

A Gringo Like Me by Jennifer Knox

How did your manuscript get picked up by Soft Skull? How often had you sent it out before that happened?

My friend, Dan Nester, was working for Soft Skull at the time, and I asked him if he would look at it. He left Soft Skull shortly after, so Shanna Compton took over editing it. I knew Shanna--she had seen me read--so I had two advocates at the press. Without them, Soft Skull itself, and the publisher, Richard "Poppa" Nash, I'm sure that no one would have ever published it.

I had sent the manuscript out, like, a million times.

This is no big revelation, but funny, dirty poems--which account for about one-third of the book--aren't well accepted by academic presses. I've actually had people tell me they don't like funny poems. Period. It's weird to me, but it's not a rare opinion. My thesis advisor at NYU told me that no contest judge would ever go out on a limb for me--that no one would risk their professional reputation on poems that were profane, scatological, and blasphemous. He was absolutely right. But still I kept trying the contest route.

I thought I was cleverly "tailoring" the manuscript to fit the tastes of the different presses. I would take out all the really dirty, funny poems for things like the Three Lesbians Press First Annual Global Anti-Torture First Book Award. Over time, the manuscript became more and more anemic. So by the time I gave the book to Soft Skull, Dan and Shanna asked, "Where's all the funny stuff? Where's 'Hot Ass' and 'Chicken Bucket'?" which I had taken out.

Now I know I wasn't really hiding my hot ass from judges at Three Lesbians Press, or the Harpoon Prize Southern Alaska Community College Northeast. Those presses all knew a hot ass was hiding in there, and they didn't want it hanging out of their catalog. You can't hide the shape of your soul, or lack of it. And Soft Skull wanted it back. Like my dad always said, "Just be yourself--you've really got no choice."

What do you remember about the day when you saw your finished book for the first time?

It was at the release party. The subway to my neighborhood was down, and Richard brought a box he'd hauled over in a stolen station wagon. I was in shock. I couldn't focus my eyes, but even blurry it looked pretty good. The cover felt like velour, and tasted like the most delicious cupcake ever.

Were you involved in the cover design?

I was. Soft Skull is very generous to let the authors be as involved as they are with cover design. I saw the painting by Charles Browning in a show, and was blown away by it. It's 6 feet tall. I couldn't afford it, but then (ding!) I figured out a way to keep it forever. Charlie Orr, who designed the book, is as brilliant and talented as he is twisted. I just realized that two men named Charles made my cover. I love my cover.

Before your book came out, did you imagine your life would change because of it?
I was a fat, ugly kid. But when I was 10, I used to fantasize that I'd go on the Richard Simmons show and he'd tell me I was very pretty and had a good figure. Then he'd ask me to do some cheerleading routines. Similarly, when the book was accepted, I totally thought someone would give me a lot of money and ask me to teach at Harvard. I thought it would be reviewed in the New York Times, and reviewers would say that, along with being a genius, I was also very pretty. The headline would go something like, "Beautiful Genius Gets Well-Deserved Fat Sack Of Poetry Cash."

How has your life been different since?

I can google myself with better results. I found "Chicken Bucket" posted on a few enthusiastic 17-year-olds' Myspace pages. My mom "could" give them away for Christmas presents.

Were there things you thought would happen that didn't? Surprises?

All the money didn't make me happy like I thought it would. 24-K gold tarnishes like you wouldn't believe. And ponies are filthier than pigs. Especially 24-K gold ponies.

What did you do to promote the book, and what were those experiences like for you?

I toured with Shanna for about two months solid. Maybe you can put a hyper link here to take people to her interview, as she types fast and is very detailed in her explanations. She planned the whole tour--she's a whiz at the whole picture. I didn't even know people read blogs before that trip. So I had the luxury of sitting back enjoying the ride. But I drove sometimes. Our styles were a great contrast. We met fantastic people--people who thought poetry was important, and what we were doing was important. People were often apologizing for the towns they lived in. We went to Target every chance we got, and ate Mars Cheese Castle cheddar spread out of a little crock balanced in the cup holder. The highways of Michigan were lined with dead things: every 10 seconds we saw some bloody schmear along the side of the road. That state needs to put up a fence.

When your second book comes out, will you tour behind it with similar dedication?

Maybe something abbreviated from the first one. I'm not a great promoter of my stuff. I submit a lot and I'll show up wherever someone tells me to, usually on time. I don't think I'd know where to begin. I don't blog. I didn't watch Shanna work out the minutiae of our tour, so it all seemed magically perfect ("Well, this all worked out nicely!"). But Ada Limon told me about the nitty-gritty of planning her similarly extensive tour, and though she handled it all with cool-headed grace, it looked way too hard for me. Instant messaging is way too hard for me.
What influence has the book's publication had on your subsequent writing?

A Gringo Like Me is primarily dramatic monologues, and I don't want to be a one-trick pony. I don't want to write like that anymore--I can't. The reason for doing it is done. So there's a big change in the second book. And I want that again for the third.

Has your second book already found its publisher?

Nope. Right now it's just too many papers crammed in the strained maw of a binder clip.

How do you feel about the critical response so far and has it had any effect on your writing?

What I've gotten has been good. I have to shake off expectations that I project upon readers. What I project on people affects me more than people's actual perceptions do. Because really people just want to read good poems.

Could you say a little more about those expectations?

My biggest fear used to be that people couldn't, or wouldn't, follow a poem. For years, I think I subconsciously opted to not take certain risks in poems (not with diction or subjects--but with syntax, form, associations, leaps, whatever) rather than risk losing a reader. But that's just selling people short. Surface clarity is very important to me--I think you can ultimately arrive at a far more complicated place in a poem when the surface is clear--but I don't want it to be the primary thing leading the poem anymore. Not everyone's going to like the same style, but making decisions based on the imagined tastes of imaginary readers is pandering--and to people who don't even exist! I wasn't pandering consciously, but I'm taking more risks now. 

Now that I'm thinking about it, the imagined readers' expectations are kinda like the little voice in my head that tells me I'm a loser. It's the same voice I hear whenever I smoke pot.

What advice do you wish someone had given you before your book came out? Or, what was the best advice you got?

Be flexible. You're not going to make any money. I mean, not one penny. You may pay for your beer, but you'd pay regardless.

Do you want your life to change?

It doesn't matter what I want, because it will.

Is there something you're doing now that you think will bring about a change that you seek?

Exercise, keeping myself open, vulnerable, and honest, and paying off my debt.

Do you believe poetry can create change in the world?

If by "change" you mean "get people to agree with you about XXX," probably not. I think anything that takes a risk to actually talk to people, rather than just to itself, can change the world. But anyone can unleash new ideas into the atmosphere. The Teletubbies did it. They didn't cause an uprising, but their shape and sound was let loose into the atmosphere, and now you can see little Tubby-tracers in all walks of life: wiggling and smiling and celebrating pre-verbalness (but there was also a shape that preceded the Teletubbies which allowed their shape to arrive). The shape didn't stop us from electing George Bush twice, but maybe it'll stop us from needing to make Saw IV.


A poem from A Gringo Like Me by Jennifer L. Knox:

The Best Thanksgiving Ever

After the meal, Sandy decided we should spice up charades
by slapping the loser's butt with a ping-pong paddle.
Whenever Ed got slapped, he farted because he was so nervous.
The ladies won, slapped all the men's butts, but then what to do?
"Take off your clothes!" I told Sean, who didn't seem like the kind
of guy who'd do such a thing--but he was, and he did. Then Jim
took off his clothes. Then John. And then the other Jim
who brought all the lovely bottles of wine. And finally Ed.
Deb came out of the bathroom and saw five big men naked in the     kitchen.
They screamed, "Take off your clothes!" We all figured she would,
and she did. Then Sandy the Slapmaster, then me, then Tomoko
who kept her glasses on. We walked around the house naked,
talking about how it was to be naked with other naked people,
how none of the guys had boners, and how cold it was out in the     garage.
Somebody found a big bottle of vodka. We made a no-hugging     rule.
John kept trying to open the curtains and show the neighbors
what they were missing. Deb thought an orgy was imminent,
but since we'd all spent a lot of time in Iowa, I didn't think it would     fly.
Jim passed out. Ed put a robe on. I passed out. We woke up
the next morning in T-shirts, ate bagels from Bagel Land, and said, "We all got naked last night." That afternoon, on our way
to the Walt Whitman Mall, the ladies gave each other nicknames
ending with the word Bitch. Deb was Shy Bitch,
Sandy was Gentle Bitch, Tomoko was Slutty Bitch and I was Silent     Bitch.
All the bitches agreed that slapping people's butts with a paddle was something we needed to do every weekend, that this was the     best
Thanksgiving ever, and that Ed had the biggest dick we'd ever     seen.

. . .

read more first-book interviews



10 NOV 06

We're driving north tomorrow morning. Tomorrow night (that's Saturday, the 11th) at 8 pm, I'll reading with Matt Henriksen, Adam Clay, and Jess Mynes. Chris Tonelli will be laying down some tarps for us at the Lily Pad in Inman Square, 1353 Cambridge St., Cambridge, MA. (They're in the midst of drywalling at the Lily Pad. But there will be chairs and atmosphere. And we'll all be there.)

Max emailed Adam the other day:

hey Adam,

An old friend of mine has started a blog. He is a chauffeur. His entry for Tuesday put me in mind of you.


It's 10:30 and we're just getting around to having some dinner. I chopped up some stuff a couple hours ago... and now K is singing in the kitchen--there is hope!

Boston, yes! The team gathers once again. Boston was where you honeymooned, if I recall correctly. I haven't been there since I was a teenager. Once, sitting in a park in Boston, I was looking at a tree branch just at the moment when a leaf let go and fell. I wrote that down. I was 19.



8 NOV 06

14 sentences:

Is this a dream? I want mine to be. There was a day when you were shitting and bleeding and making those lists, right? Go back. I came to forget. Is there something else that we could ask? "You're only one man."

Sunflowers--really? They can grow in the closet? Don't they need light? Their throats. "Light from within." To light my candle for the feeling of "receive me." Conversion of a life--a moment that can only be returned to in one way.


6 NOV 06


4 NOV 06

It's out. And it's terrific.

2 poems from F2F by Janet Holmes:


Saying writing
You are the only one I can talk to

Hearing reading
And you are the only one I can talk to

You are not giggling under the tablecloth you are two adults sitting at expensive computers touch-typing (oh! yes) resting your index fingers on the F and the J waiting for the incoming ping of the instanter message like a starting gun

          gd 2 c u again

your form is never more than an extension of such content

no one sees you

and no one sees you

doing it



they have no bodies to each other
they have words

each has the words of the other's body

the dark between them the same dark
as between stars

& almost as much of it


2 NOV 06

Marriage (a visit to the fortuneteller)


"I see the three wise men. The white is an angel, the red is a devil, gold is god. The black and blue are missing. The red has a point but no lead. The others stop short. Do you have a question? There are three choices. Two go straight through--they're like pipes. But one points up. It's your choice. They're all good. Though you have a defined mission, there are different ways to go about it. There are three ways it can succeed, but basically yes. No warning, just don't worry about the grey.

"It might not feel very artistic. The production is modest, more on the order of a school play than a broadway show. But when the extra is taken away, there is strength."


"I see words, right now it's reversed. It's the type for an old printing press, where each letter must be set individually. If you ink it, it will be a G. Big G, small G, but both uppercase. The black is contained. The crow serves a function. There is no cardinal, but a bluebird--or maybe a jay. I like this blue.

"Because you have chosen the life of an artisan, you can't expect things to go fast. It's slow. You knew that. But you just have the one idea--in two sizes--and that's good, it's not split. Slow down and remember the original idea. Your job is technical and complicated, though basic--it's done with the hands. Her job is done with the mind. She is more the ornament? Though not very glittery--it is pretty banged up. You are more the backstage manager. But your tools are more fabulous, so it evens out."

. . .

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