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October 2005
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first-book & other interviews:
here


blogs:

$650 apartment for $650
aaron mccollough
ada limon
al filreis
almost i rushed from home
adam clay
amanda earl
amy king's blog
anachronizms
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
belladodie
bemsha swing
bewilderment inc.
big window
billknott
black and white
the blind chatelaine's keys
blogalicious
bob marcacci
both both
brandon brown
bread and jam for frances
the brother swimming beneath me
the burning chair
caconrad
commutiny
cahiers de corey
can of corn
catherine daly's blog
chaxblog
chicago postmodern poetry
chicana poetics
chicks dig poetry
clay matthews

collin kelley
conchology
cosmopoetica
critical fiction
culture industry
dagzine
dbqp: visualizing poetics
delirious hem
the desert city
detainees
the dishwasher's tears
DIY poetics
DIY publishing
do gummi bears dream
dumbfoundry
effing blog
elective annoyance
elephant seals negate
elsewhere
esther press
e-x-c-h-a-n-g-e-v-a-l-u-e-s
eyeball hatred 
fait accompli
fewer & further
frank sherlock
fringe matters
gammm
geneva convention
ghostbrain
goodness gracious
harlequin knights
harriet
here comes everybody
heuriskein
hg poetics
home-schooled by a cackling jackal
humanophone
human's animal
hyacinth losers
i am yer grammer
i'll show you mine
immoweth
imprimatur
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
jmw
kaya oakes
kinemapoetics
lance phillips
leftover flying
lemon hound
lisablog
lime tree
little red's recovery room
litwindowpane
looktouchblog
lorcaloca
love and coffee
the lovely arc
lovers' last go around
luna
lutheran surrealism
mappemunde
maryrose larkin
micawberesque
mindful ramblings
minimalist concrete poetry
minor american
modern americans
mr. tong bliss' journal
narcissusworks
the neglectorino project
nervous unto thirst
never mind the beasts

thenewermetaphysicals
nice guy syndrome
nomadics
nothing to say and saying it
now then
odalisqued
omnidawn blog
paul hoover's poetry blog
the pangrammaticon
pantaloons
peek thru the pines
phactory
philly sound
poetry hut
poesy galore
poets' corner
poet with a day job
pseudopodium
pshares blog
pudgy pigeon enterprises
pugnacious pinoy
qbdp: the mailartworks
radish king
reader of depressing books
reli[e]able signs
reginald shepherd's blog
riverfall
rob mclennan's blog
rocket kids
rue hazard
saintelizabethstreet
samizdat blog
sandra alland's blog-like entity
sandra simonds swims and swims
say something wonderful
sellekhana-glutton
serif of nottingham
shanna compton's blog
sharkforum
shikow
silliman's blog
slicker chumway's
slim windows
spoke to the world on the phone
spooks by me
stamped & metered flying fish
st*rnosedmole
the steinach operation
stephen vincent
swoonrocket
texfiles in bahrain
they shoot poets don't they
third factory
this is all your fault
this morning in poetry
tom raworth's notes
transsubmutation
twenty thousand thousand
ululations
understory
the unquiet grave
unreliable narrator
venepoetics
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
wordstrumpet
yes, starlings! yes!

you are here
ysleta poeta
zach barocas
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journals/small press/reviews:

1913
6 X 6
abraham lincoln
above/ground press
absent magazine
action yes
ahsahta press
alice blue
apocryphaltext
big game
bird dog
blackbird
black lodge press
black ocean press
bookslut
the brooklyn rail
calamari press
cannibal
carve
chax press
circumference
coconut
coldfront magazine
conduit
the constant critic
cue
the cultural society
cutbank
cy gist press
cy press
diagram
dusie
effing press
eoagh
fascicle
faux press e chapbooks
fewer & further press
flim forum press
free verse
galatea resurrects
g o n g press
gutcult
half empty/half full
the hat
hot whiskey press
handsome
h_ngm_n
hooke press
horse less press
house press
how2/barbara guest memory bank
jacket
katalanche press
kitchen press
konundrum engine literary review
la petite zine
lame house press
lit
little red leaves
milk
mipoesias
new pages
no
no tell motel
octopus
octopusbooks

omg press
omnidawn
onedit
the page
phylum press

poetry 365
the poker
portable press at yo-yo labs
rain taxi
realpoetik
rhino
rhubarb is susan
rose metal press
rust buckle
saltgrass
seconds
shampoo
skanky possum
sleepingfish
slope
sona books
spell
tool a magazine
three candles
transmission press
typo
ugly duckling presse
vanitas
wintered press
wire sandwich
womb
word for/word
xantippe
zafusy

selby's list


audio/radio/video:

AudibleWord.Org
The Continental Review
Frequency 
Kelly Writers House webcasts
Laurable
LINEbreak

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

 

 

 

 


every other day


14 OCT 05

Small assistance toward a focused aim:

At the girls' school in the village of Ghari Habibibullah, Pakistan, 250 students were killed, more than 500 injured, and the school was completely demolished. Similar catastrophes happened in villages all over the region...

Girls' schools were often beacons of hope and implicit progress in a region dominated by fundamentalist Islam, and rebuilding these schools is likely to be at the bottom of the political agenda. So Working Assets has launched a campaign to support rebuilding girls' schools in Pakistan and India--and we're asking for your help to make sure that this tragedy does not mean girls in the region will lose access to educational opportunities. With local materials and labor, your donations will go a long way.

You can contribute $5 or $10 here.

 

12 OCT 05
Sometimes I get so deep into the dream of the jobs of the day that I don't hear about world events until later. in our most (2)
from "Disintegration: Poem for Eva Hesse"
by Martha Ronk:

I don't want to keep a diary
or know what I'm thinking.

. . .

b.
I can't figure out how to figure out how to do it.
I figure it'll take a lifetime of complete misery.
Yet she threads a cord through a bit of hosing and it seems
a plausible answer to a myriad of questions.

 

10 OCT 05

In Tunisia. Oversleeping. I was surprised when it snowed. Didn't see anything different yet about the light.

After that I was with Frank, we were trying to find a lightbulb. It turned out that just over a sand dune there was a lightbulb store.

 

8 OCT 05
dear N,
Right--so what exactly is a blog. "A frequent, chronological publication of personal thoughts and Web links." Always dated, newest entry at the top. Part journal, part letter, part scrapbook. A place to connect with others, share enthusiasms, think/work in the open, try out ideas, experiment with genres. A forum, a soapbox. Reb says: "My dad calls it my 'diary to the world.'"

Every blog is manned (so to speak) by a character created by the fusion of (& friction between) the writer and the form. I don't think I can really know people through the things they make, but by reading, say, Amy King's blog, I can get acquainted with more personal aspects of her public character. This gives me (among other pleasures) an additional entryway into her poems.

With artists of all kinds I've always sought this--it's like a kitchen door, as opposed to the front door of their work. The kitchen door is available through interviews and magazine articles, biography and published notebooks--and now (if an artist has the bent) through blogs. Keeping a blog myself provides back steps and an old screen/storm door for anyone with that kind of interest in my work. Strangely, it offers something in that vein to me as well, as I'm curious about the interior life of my own public character.

"How can another see into me…without my being able to see in there myself?"  (Derrida)

I think I can use my blog to see into my public character, in order to "thoroughly inhabit the role," like a method actor. Is this crazy? I have a project in mind, still a few years off, that calls for research, interviews, critical analysis, and (for balance) some overt memoir. It's totally beyond me but I'm hoping that, by then, it won't be beyond her. I believe that character is the one who will be able to write the book.

I imagine you asking me how "being real" enters into this. I think of an afternoon when Max helped our neighbor Steve install a gutter on the overhang of his new porch. It was mid-December. That morning, Steve had taken his kids to see Santa Claus down at the mall. Max asked him, "Was it the real Santa?" Without hesitation or irony, Steve said, "They're all the real Santa."
love,
k
8

 

6 OCT 05
dear N,
I guess I started the blog as an experiment, and almost as a secret from myself. I'd been reading blogs, mostly poetry-related, for a year or 2, and became intrigued by the form (what makes a blog a blog). I wanted to have a site up when my chapbook came out, and in the back of my mind I wondered if I'd try blogging too.

I knew it was a bad idea. I can't keep a diary for 2 weeks straight, and am (as you know) an erratic correspondent ("nothing happens much and when it does I don't want to talk about it"). For some reason, that didn't stop me. Thinking of your question "What's it for?"--I'm so used to following my work around, needing to trust it, doing things without knowing why (the artist's lot), I don't think I asked myself that question until I was already in.

Then I exchanged some emails with Anne Boyer and Laura Carter on the subject "Why blog?" (I'd written to Laura when she closed her blog-shop temporarily, and to Anne about viewing the blog as art--I'll get back to this). Soon after, Reb Livingston posted a list of Ways a Writer Can Make Use of Blogging. I related to those--especially the desire for community--and to Shanna's comment: "It's just like putting up a sign...'hey, I'm over here and some of my stuff is over there.'" The stuff (bio, poems, book, scheduled readings, audio) would be at the website, the person would be at the blog. Or maybe not the person but the character created by the person. The greeter. The ambassador.

Well okay, more on this later. Time to have some dinner, the lost meal. I laughed at your description of what's on your fridge. We cleaned everything off of ours the other night--we start over when a big job gets finished. So right now there's only a newly printed, clean October calendar, a bunch of science-catalog disc magnets, and a lone 3x5 card that says "Sometimes I forget I'm as good as Ben Franklin" (which might have some bearing on our topic).
soon,
k
6

 

4 OCT 05
 "How can another see into me, into my most secret self, without   my being able to see in there myself?"    *
in our most

 

2 OCT 05
 How can another see into me, into my most secret self?
so many


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