The title piece, “St. Trigger,” is constructed like shrapnel from a shotgun miraculously made into words flung upon the page. Each of the words is interconnected, originating from the same source, but disparate and dislocated and uncontrolled.
Scorched Altar is a hybrid master work. Kristina Maria Darling’s fractured bits lent themselves perfectly to “meta” moments. I beg her indulgence and yours, reader, in reviewing this work using Darling’s own phrases, reassembled
Zeina Hashem Beck’s 3arabi Song won the 2016 Rattle Chapbook Prize. Of which Rattle says, “This little book will break your heart then mend it.” You
LOOK is an important book for an American audience to read, but also for a global audience to read. It speaks to a global refugee dilemma, of a generation of youth that has experienced nothing but war, of poverty and of perseverance against all odds. It is a book for all eyes to notice, for all eyes to not look away.
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In Robyn Schiff’s A Woman of Property, weeds grow through every domestic space. A nail turns the nursery chair perilous. A doe may or may not replace a girl on an altar. Schiff drops her reader at a fluctuating border, though we don’t immediately know it.
In preparation for this particular exhibit, I found myself exploring a hidden chest of feelings about that very far away world, a place from which I’ve been bitterly estranged. Here, I have attempted to piece together or transcribe my personal truths through the appropriation of whimsical imagery and natural elements, juxtaposed against heavier, and often autobiographical themes. Each piece harbors a life of its own, one that is fragile and mortal, just like ours.
A Hybrid Personal Essay and Review of Cheryl Strayed’s WILD:
Last night I finished reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed. A rad story about a woman who pushed fear aside and hiked the Pacific Coast Trail by herself. At 11 am this morning, I drove through In-N-Out because I needed a cheeseburger desperately after reading her describe cravings for burgers and fries, over and over.
As a white, heterosexual male, I have a lot of privilege. I’ve spent a lot of years having the world reflect a “Thumbs up, buddy,” at me more often than I deserve. I’ve benefited in both concrete and fungible ways. It’s my responsibility to actively contribute to a more equitable redistribution of privilege. Helping put the voices of feminist poets out into the world is one small way that I can do that.