April, because of National Poetry Month, is a traumatic ordeal of a time for me.
A prevailing, I guess, part of me thinks “What a total bunch of fucking bullshit”– and for the past few years all April long I’m in a grouchy stupor-rage making snide and mean remarks, pissing on anything even remotely “poetry,” and relentlessly posting up pictures of beached whale carcasses.
And yet–a part of me identifies with this impressive cadre and camaraderie of poetry munchkins gathered squawking and encouraging and reassuring each other on the cliffs of poetry each April because, well, it must be a good thing. It must be, right?
And so this year I’ve decided to face the disturbing contraries of my soul and the way they bristle and soft-feather up at National Poetry Month by setting up, as any good Caesar of the soul, some death matches. And in each case the death match will consist of a “for” and “against” stance fought out between two of my friend surrogates. And in each case I’ll stand up above the fray with thumb at the ready.
And, the first death match is between Reb Livingston and Jereme Dean.
by Reb Livingston
What’s ruining/killing poetry this month? Well, it’s April so that must mean the culprit is National Poetry Month. Or so claims my anti-NaPoMo poet pals on social media.
April 21st, 2014 / 3:10 pm
A Good Titty Is Hard To Find
by Reb Livingston
O if I had two titties to rub
together I would rub them
together until together they
created one good one
and I’d strut around with
my one good titty
that I’d push up with my firm palm
imagining that it was your firm palm
and I’d keep it in place with packing tape
imagining that it was your packing tape
and eventually my one good titty
would spill over
my custom one-tittied tape bra and
disappear into my scoop neck crop top
but before it did
I’d use my one good titty to pound your face
like my titty was some soap in a sock
participating in a retribution
stretch into a lithe hand of delight.
One morning I woke up very sad. So I decided that since I was a poet, I would express my sadness in poem form. This poem explores the concepts of friction, combination, sexuality, gender, aging, gravity, fashion, metamorphosis, violence and love. The titty works as metaphor for a much larger idea.
October 28th, 2013 / 12:25 pm
No Tell Books is offering a psychic special this weekend. Buy a title from No Tell Books and with proof of purchase, receive a Tarot reading or interpretation of your dream from editor/publisher Reb Livingston.
Buy one No Tell Books title between now and Sunday, August 9, 2009 and receive a FREE tarot reading or dream interpretation! (One free reading or interpretation per customer)
If you buy a No Tell title this weekend, not only do you receive a stellar collection of poetry, you also receive FREE PSYCHIC ADVICE from me, poet and editor, Reb Livingston. This psychic advice will be dispensed via either a tarot reading or dream interpretation. BUT WAIT, THAT’S NOT ALL, if I receive any clairvoyant nuggets while I’m doing your reading or interpretation, I will share them with you AT NO EXTRA COST.
Been having a recurring dream that’s been worrying you? Then you might want to take advantage of this offer. Oh, and books and stuff.
Reb Livingston recently posted over at her blog a tour of her office where she does a lot of her work on No Tell and other things. I asked her if I could link to that post here, and she said yes.
Anyhow, above is one of the pictures she posted. If you’d like to take the tour and see more, click on over to her blog.
Heller, Kafka, Orwell, Vonnegut — welcome to class kids. This semester Mr. Hodges will be teaching us how horrible society is and how to maintain a negative attitude. Then we’re gonna read A Confederacy of Dunces and all kill ourselves in hopes of also being posthumously published. And don’t forget, you can use Tom Wolfe’s book as an ottoman. Lastly, we’ll finish off with a biography of Clarence Thomas, cuz there’s nothing that says justice more than a pube on a can of Pepsi.
Reb Livingston is a MASSIVE person for two reasons: 1) I have a crush on her and 2) in an interview with Orange Alert in February of 08, she said, “I believe every ‘serious’ poet should, in some way, assist and cultivate other poets.” Reb lives by that belief. She co-edits No Tell Motel, in which appear a great variety of poets; she runs No Tell Books, a micro press that follows the print on demand model; she is very active online and off when it comes to supporting the community; and she is the author of Pterodactyls Soar Again (Coconut 2006), Wanton Textiles (w/ Ravi Shankar, No Tell Books 2006), Your Ten Favorite Words (Coconut 2007), and God Damsel (forthcoming No Tell Books 2009).
A personal bit from her website:
Born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, she now resides in the greater Washington, D.C. area with her husband and son. Once she worked for America Online. Although that was a long time ago.
After the break begins the email interview. All pictures are taken from her own site or from her blog. I encourage everyone to check out her blog, as there are some great posts in the archives about the starting a journal, starting a press, publishing that first book, etc (look for the ‘publishing’ label). Also, don’t go away: there’s something special at the end of this post. The something special is FREE BOOKS.