Hello Fans!
Please tune in to the Culture Buzz online at http://www.kfmg991.org/directory_detail.php?user=18 on Wednesday, March 7th, at around 11:40am, to hear an exclusive interview of our coordinator, Vlad Frederick, made possible by YAPRS friend and staunch supporter, John Busbee!
And don't forget, our first reading is this Thursday at 7pm, Beaverdale Books; we hope to see you there!
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Samantha's Pick, Dora Malech
Here's one of my favorite poems by Dora Malech, titled "Humility & Co."
I left a little cake, a little note:
I’m sorry if I threw up on your Christmas.
Dear, you can call it catharsis, it’s still
bad manners. As if it were possible
to cancel all the flux inside, one wakes,
a levitating magnet. This is physics,
friends: the law of tell-you-when-you’re-older,
ends that justify a good cry on
an iffy shoulder in the interregnum.
Wire-mother loves to cuddle the holidays
away, swings her dinner bell and waits
for drooling. Here, the crossroads of psychosis
and bad grammar where “someone” becomes “they”
and no one cares anymore. I guess I just
mean inexact, the loss or at the very
least a lack of basics. Take a penny,
leave a penny. It’s been a pleasure. Close
the door gently and please hit the hall light
when you leave. One option is embrace
stasis, and yet some days the heart’s
this dirty, matted mutt trembling at the feet
of the family passing time between trains
in the station café: “Look, Mom! It wants
something!” Let’s walk down and watch them
fire the cannon. Let’s see if they’re still putting
the puppet show on in this rain.
I left a little cake, a little note:
I’m sorry if I threw up on your Christmas.
Dear, you can call it catharsis, it’s still
bad manners. As if it were possible
to cancel all the flux inside, one wakes,
a levitating magnet. This is physics,
friends: the law of tell-you-when-you’re-older,
ends that justify a good cry on
an iffy shoulder in the interregnum.
Wire-mother loves to cuddle the holidays
away, swings her dinner bell and waits
for drooling. Here, the crossroads of psychosis
and bad grammar where “someone” becomes “they”
and no one cares anymore. I guess I just
mean inexact, the loss or at the very
least a lack of basics. Take a penny,
leave a penny. It’s been a pleasure. Close
the door gently and please hit the hall light
when you leave. One option is embrace
stasis, and yet some days the heart’s
this dirty, matted mutt trembling at the feet
of the family passing time between trains
in the station café: “Look, Mom! It wants
something!” Let’s walk down and watch them
fire the cannon. Let’s see if they’re still putting
the puppet show on in this rain.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Sam's Pick, from Seven D. Schroeder
This is my top pick poem from Steven D. Schroeder's "Torched Verse Ends". It's titled, "Colorado Strata."
Fire scars in aspen rings near Aspen bulldozed over
Front Range strip-mining barrens that suburb papers over
Mesa Verde dwellings built by helicopter over
Era of airports hewn from San Juan stone not over
NORAD bored under Cheyenne Mountain starting over
Pikes Peak with neon street sign superimposed over
Denver overpass above another overpass over
Semi trucks hauling Rockies rock by rock over
I-70 out to Kansas over and over and over
Fire scars in aspen rings near Aspen bulldozed over
Front Range strip-mining barrens that suburb papers over
Mesa Verde dwellings built by helicopter over
Era of airports hewn from San Juan stone not over
NORAD bored under Cheyenne Mountain starting over
Pikes Peak with neon street sign superimposed over
Denver overpass above another overpass over
Semi trucks hauling Rockies rock by rock over
I-70 out to Kansas over and over and over
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Vlad's Poetry Pick -- Steven D Schroeder
Here is "Clockwork" by Steven D Schroeder
Clockwork
In the 27 seconds
tacked on the end of the calendar,
she catalogs closets. Meanwhile,
the family Labrador tears
a Styrofoam stem from the P
in the baby’s name to make D
for dogged, and in the den
downstairs, the aces and eights
at the bottom of the deck
presage a hand on the back
of her husband. Finches whipping
past open windows dodge
hawks and shotguns thanks
to thousand-mile-per-hour
gusts reconstructing the city
securely inland. Not dead
in pus, off-white as lies,
her husband’s leukocytes
replenish his appendix,
pop a patellar tendon
together on the bone.
Tears satiate her thirst
for salt on lips, and wash
a pocketwatch whose dial
ignites a tiny human
who paces grounds that spread
the jaws that spew out gods—
Rube Goldberg built it best,
not first. The maker places
new digital displays,
watches them count the last
10 seconds to the blast.
To hear more from Steve, as well as from Dora Malech, please join us at Beaverdale Books on March 8th, 7pm, for our first reading of the season! As always, all events are FREE and open to the public!
Clockwork
In the 27 seconds
tacked on the end of the calendar,
she catalogs closets. Meanwhile,
the family Labrador tears
a Styrofoam stem from the P
in the baby’s name to make D
for dogged, and in the den
downstairs, the aces and eights
at the bottom of the deck
presage a hand on the back
of her husband. Finches whipping
past open windows dodge
hawks and shotguns thanks
to thousand-mile-per-hour
gusts reconstructing the city
securely inland. Not dead
in pus, off-white as lies,
her husband’s leukocytes
replenish his appendix,
pop a patellar tendon
together on the bone.
Tears satiate her thirst
for salt on lips, and wash
a pocketwatch whose dial
ignites a tiny human
who paces grounds that spread
the jaws that spew out gods—
Rube Goldberg built it best,
not first. The maker places
new digital displays,
watches them count the last
10 seconds to the blast.
To hear more from Steve, as well as from Dora Malech, please join us at Beaverdale Books on March 8th, 7pm, for our first reading of the season! As always, all events are FREE and open to the public!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
YAPRS March Reading: Dora Malech and Steven D Schroeder
Please join us at our first reading of 2012, featuring poets Dora Malech and Steven D Schroeder!
-Steven D. Schroeder is the author of Torched Verse Ends,(BlazeVOX Books, 2008). He graduated from Vanderbilt University. He currently edits the online journal Anti- and resides in St. Louis, Missouri.
-Dora Malech is the author of two books of poetry: Shore Ordered Ocean (Waywiser, 2010), and Say So (CSUPC, 2010). She earned her MFA in Poetry from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop in 2005. She was last fall’s Poet-in-Residence at Saint Mary’s College of California.
The readings are held at Beaverdale Books, 7pm, and as always, are free to the community! Please rsvp on our Facebook page, and invite your friends; we would love to have a full house for our first event of the season!
-Steven D. Schroeder is the author of Torched Verse Ends,(BlazeVOX Books, 2008). He graduated from Vanderbilt University. He currently edits the online journal Anti- and resides in St. Louis, Missouri.
-Dora Malech is the author of two books of poetry: Shore Ordered Ocean (Waywiser, 2010), and Say So (CSUPC, 2010). She earned her MFA in Poetry from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop in 2005. She was last fall’s Poet-in-Residence at Saint Mary’s College of California.
The readings are held at Beaverdale Books, 7pm, and as always, are free to the community! Please rsvp on our Facebook page, and invite your friends; we would love to have a full house for our first event of the season!
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