Very Bad Poetry

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Very Bad Poetry, as the name of the journal would suggest, publishes very bad poetry — but if the intent is to write a bad poem, and that intent is met, does it not become a good poem? Or maybe the poems are indeed bad, yet rendered aesthetically effective by the journal’s conceit? Maybe the journal is simply bad as are the poems. Or maybe the journal is great and so are the poems. It is impossible for the journal to be good and the poems to be bad, and it is impossible for the journal to be bad and the poems to be good. For those who question my authority on the subject of impossibility, may I remind you that I cannot fly.

Uncategorized / 13 Comments
October 23rd, 2009 / 10:05 pm

Play Sleuth #1

Anyone know the origin of this photo?  Digging the ink, the stance, the composition, everything.

Random / 22 Comments
October 23rd, 2009 / 8:33 pm

Max decided to go for a quick bike ride before dinner. He was going to tell his mom he was leaving, but then didn’t, oh well. She was busy with Gary anyway. Gary, her chinless boyfriend, was lounging on the couch, drinking red wine and watching one of those ludicrous musicals. Every night was some musical. Disgusting, untrue, wrong in every way.

first paragraph from an excerpt from the Where The Wild Things Are novel by Dave Eggers.

Form & Style

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Craft Notes / 16 Comments
October 23rd, 2009 / 5:27 pm

Call for Submissions: Love Rise Up

From Steve Fellner comes this call for submissions:

Hi,

Phil Young and I have been asked to co-edit an anthology for Benu Press; its working title is Love Rise Up.

We both have been invested in the literary world for some time.  I wrote and published a book of poems entitled Blind Date with Cavafy (Marsh Hawk Press, 2007) and a memoir entitled All Screwed Up (Benu Press, 2009); Phil has published in literary magazines such as Antioch Review.

The editor who commissioned this project asked that we focus on contemporary poets and poems that succeed on the following levels:

  1. The poem deals with social justice, not simply a social issue. In other words there has to be some action or suggestion of resistance or dealing with a social issue, not just having a social issue somewhere in the background.
  1. The poem offers an element of hope. This hope can be somewhat ambiguous, but at least some level of hope has to be detectable to the average reader.  Think “Daybreak in Alabama” by Langston Hughes.
  1. The poem is an “accessible narrative or lyric that contains elements of genuine drama or comedy.”
    4.) If the poem were a movie, it would have to receive somewhere between a G and PG-13 rating.

We would really like to include a poem of yours in Love Rise Up.  If interested, please send us a poem(s) for us to look at as a Word document.

We’d happily look at new work or previously published. My co-editor and I are responsible for paying all fees, so I would appreciate a waiver, if at all possible.

Contributors will include Martin Espada, Denise Duhamel, Rigoberto Gonzalez, David Kirby, Sean Thomas Dougherty, Barbara Hamby, Cheryl Dumesnil, Aimee Nezhukumatathil, Fady Joudah, Rebecca Livingston, Alison Joseph, Laura Kasischke, Idra Novey, Eliot Khalil Wilson, Martha Collins, among others.


When the anthology appears (in Fall 2010, tentatively), all contributors will receive one copy.  Please call 585-395-5040 or e-mail
sfellner@brockport.edu and pyoung@brockport.edu if you have any questions.

If you know that you will be offering us something, we’d be indebted if you let us know by November 15.

Feel free to send this to anyone who you think may be interested.  In fact, we’d be, once again, be so grateful if you did.

Thanks,

Steve and Phil

Uncategorized / 24 Comments
October 23rd, 2009 / 5:22 pm

My favorite poem?  The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus.

Another kind of innovation?

135cat-dog

How many kinds of innovation are there available to a writer? Quite a few, I think. Here’s something from the first pages of Flann O’Brien’s The Third Policeman:

My mother I can recall perfectly. Her face was always red and sore-looking from bending at the fire; she spent her life making tea to pass the time and singing snatched of old songs to pass the meantime. I knew her well but my father and I were strangers and did not converse much; often indeed when I would be studying in the kitchen at night I could hear him through the thin door to the shop talking there from his seat under the oil lamp for hours on end to Mick the sheepdog. Always it was only the drone of his voice that I heard, never separate bits of words. He was a man who understood all dogs thoroughly and treated them like human beings. My mother owned a cat but it was a foreign outdoor animal and was rarely seen and my mother never took any notice of it.

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Craft Notes / 4 Comments
October 23rd, 2009 / 4:41 pm

Meat Out of the Eater by Josef Horáček, text by Lara Glenum

A rad video from an art installation featured at &Now and elsewhere, featuring text from Lara Glenum‘s Maximum Gaga. (When I saw this, it was attached in the belly of a wooden sculpture that looked like an enormous intestine.) Buy Maximum Gaga.

Meat Out of the Eater from Josef Horáček on Vimeo.

Web Hype / 4 Comments
October 23rd, 2009 / 4:09 pm

Does it seem like there are an unusually high number of posts here today, I mean for a Friday?