The items consisting of this press name are the only items that were given to us to consume at an office party.
Sigh.
I lost my phone about a month ago so I'm sorry if you've been trying to reach me. I have no phone. This makes my brother sad because lack of communication with younger sibling = me a bad older sister. He wrote me a haiku about it:
Lost phone, but no cares.
Why worry? You have no friends.
Please call your brother.
Cutting, yet also imploring. Very persuasive.
***
Things in my hood. I'm trying to persuade you to come out to Sunset Park:









What's up?
Well, if you're looking for a new place to send your work:
Dear Friends,
I have joined forces with a few people to start an on-line literary journal. Our ideal launch date is January, 2009.
The journal is called Scapegoat and the URL is
www.scapegoatreview.com. Please keep in mind that the journal is not up and running yet - if you go to the URL, you will see only an outline of what it will look like.
We are currently seeking submissions for all genres - poetry, fiction and non fiction (word limit for fiction and non fiction is 500 words).
If you are interested in submitting, please do so on the submission form found on our website. Feel free to email the site or me directly with any questions you might have.
Thanks, and I look forward to reading your work!
Best,
Kate Hall
***
Tonight you could:
Tuesday, November 11, 7:00pm
A TRIBUTE TO JANE COOPER
with Kazim Ali, Jill Bialosky, Celia Bland, Martha Collins, Eva Kollisch, Beatrix Gates, Marie Howe, Jan Heller Levi, Thomas Lux & Jean Valentine
Poets and colleagues honor the late Jane Cooper (1924-2007), an award-winning poet and beloved mentor. Co-sponsored by The New School.
Theresa Lang Center, Arnold Hall
The New School
55 West 13th Street, 2nd Floor
Admission free
Tomorrow:
Rosmarie Waldrop is reading at the Poetry Project Wednesday evening. You should go. Tell me about it afterwards. I'll be studying my sweet sweet vocab cards.
And this is happening on Saturday:
Experiments & Disorders: New Poetic Forms
featuring Anne Carson and Robert Currie, and Legends
Saturday, 15 November, 7pm, $10
Dixon Place
#161 Chrystie Street
btw. Rivington & Delancey
http://dixonplace.org
To purchase tickets:
http://tinyurl.com/5fs5zm
***
Remember when I ripped your heart out? You can now buy it back for $5 in the form of two new
horse less press chapbooks:
Shadows are Weather by Allison Carter

2008, 48 pages.
"a wild look, a bag of groceries, the yarn spun"
8.5x5.5, staple-bound.
cover art by Conan Kelly.
Poem:
still sweeping as if on wheels
then the left splinters
is the dust falling off my own body or is it coming from the skin of people who visit
and what web
looking behind
walking ahead of the conversation as if it was a tail
all eyes
holding out a hand in the empty room
walking ahead of the conversation as if it was a tail
looking behind all eyes
Toward Eadward Forward by Emily Abendroth

c 2008, 44 pages.
"The Sowgirl doesn't speak often but when she does she is a real flinger of zingers."
8.5x5.5, staple-bound.
cover art by Emily Abendroth.
THE TROT & THE RACK
the supple extension of calf and femur shafts
are sapwoods of mobility, demure typhoons
whose gullyside cogitations sully the pull
toward pure rapidity via skittish dervishes
a grazing to taste, a fawnskin cushioned blaze
of distracted antics, proceeding by taproot and halfshoot
as if cotyledons were synonymous with tingling
hamstrings and a coy polyp one whose haunts
might feasibly deter the gauntlet of standardization calls
swallowing instead an upturned pebbles gut
laughter composed of its newly exposed spoils
that this could buoy
simply by proving the undergrowth there
in curious posture, listing, but short of destitute
its roundabout crouch and exacerbated wares
to which you bent so low, sucking your cheek fat
tight plunging the face right into the cool sauce
of water cabling a northward eye in resolute pursuit
of contained heaving, of soft bloated amphibious
flesh baubles, of a toggling velvet expiration
and no frogs were disturbed in the looking
of that delicious underbelly
for once you didn't fumble for purchase, driven
instead by an inner rumble for near viewing
as if vision could saunter, pupate
populate by similar orders of glutted smallness