Saturday, October 16, 2021
Friday, October 15, 2021
Thursday, October 14, 2021
KAY RYAN ~
a lovely sized book for the hand —
sincere and quite relaxed essays
all accomplished with the right touch —
Marianne Moore, Stevie Smith,
Philip Larkin and Gerard Manley Hopkins
are her preferred dishes,
and William Bronk was a surprise
Wednesday, October 13, 2021
Tuesday, October 12, 2021
Monday, October 11, 2021
SOME RONALD BAATZ "WOODEN NOODLES" ~
from WOODEN NOODLES
__________________________
In spring
birds teaching leaves
how to sing
leaves teaching birds
how to whisper
Milky Way
a blissful spray of light -
we did cross this river
I remember that
little bridge
Usually
I sin in the house
and pray in the garden.
although on some nights
it happens the other way around
I make paper airplanes
out of love poems which
from so much practice
I am able to land
at her feet
Lightning
hitting a dead apple tree -
in childhood I thought nothing
of eating a
stick of butter
The house I lived in as a boy
good and bad angels
hanging in the closet
like bats the size
of overcoats
The rat I saw
down by the river
the rat that saw me
in dusty evening light
carrying a bag of cookies
Not so uncommon
a moth dying in its sleep
outside a diner
serving breakfast
at any hour of the day
Found in a pocket
of a jacket
in the closet
a desert night
from long ago
Do the ghosts
of childhood dogs
refusing to get out of my bed
have anything to do
with insomnia
A cheap clock wakes me
then a breeze from
a nearby burning field
lulls me back
to sleep
Throw my ashes
in the pond at Mt T
I have seen glints of heaven
in the eyes
of frogs
___________________
Ronald Baatz
Wooden Noodles
Black Fig Press
2021
Sunday, October 10, 2021
Saturday, October 9, 2021
Friday, October 8, 2021
Thursday, October 7, 2021
Wednesday, October 6, 2021
Tuesday, October 5, 2021
ALEX CALDIERO ~
Essays by
_____________________
SCOTT ABBOTT
LAURA ALLRED HURTADO
SCOTT CARRIER
TYLER CHADWICK
CRAIG DWORKIN
TRENT HARRIS
RICHARD KOSTELANETZ
STEFENE RUSSELL
_________________________
UTAH MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART PRESS
utahmoca.org
Monday, October 4, 2021
Sunday, October 3, 2021
Saturday, October 2, 2021
Friday, October 1, 2021
Thursday, September 30, 2021
VICTORIA CHANG ~
Obit
Language—died again on August
3, 2015 at 7:09 a.m. I heard about
my mother’s difficult nights. I hired
a night person. By the time I got
there, she was always gone. The
night person had a name but was like
a ghost who left letters on a shore
that when brought home became
shells. Couldn’t breathe, 2:33 a.m.
Screaming, 3:30 a.m. Calm, 4:24
a.m. I got on all fours, tried to pick up
the letters like a child at an egg hunt
without a basket. But for every letter
I picked up, another fell down, as if
protesting the oversimplification of
my mother’s dying. I wanted the night
person to write in a language I could
understand. Breathing unfolding,
2:33. Breathing in blades, 3:30.
Breathing like an evening gown,
4:24. But maybe I am wrong, how
death is simply death, each slightly
different from the next but the final
strike all the same. How the skin
responds to a wedding dress in the
same way it responds to rain.
___________________________
Victoria Chang
Obit
Copper Canyon Press
2020























