Working backwards:
The most recent three coinsides from Brave Men Press. The poem, "Night of 1000 Murders," by Mark Leidner is pretty fantastic.
Claudia Smith's chapbook, Put Your Head in My Lap, from Future Tense.
James Iredell's difficultly/brilliantly titled Prose. Poems. A Novel. from Orange Alert. This contains "Before I Moved to Nevada," which was published in This PDF Chapbook.
DRUNK by Daniel Bailey. There's a pretty good trailer for this book at YouTube. On Tuesday I was visiting with a friend at a hip rocker-type bar and I turned around and saw how many empty beer bottles were in the place and I thought about how many problems could have been solved with the money spent, the energy spent, the time. And how many problems were solved with the beer. It seemed about even, for a Tuesday.
The contest winner everyone's talking about: How Some People Like Their Eggs by Sean Lovelace. I actually received this one already and read part of it in the tub this morning. I said this about it in a conversation about chapbooks:
The construction of the book really brings the form to its apex. The size, the quality of cover stock and cover art, the professional printing and hand construction actually contain some kind of electric power, I think. You hold that book and suddenly understand what a chapbook is. You read it and you know – these pieces are made for this form.
From Colin Basset's Bear Creek Feed, I ordered the limited edition chapbook of poems, Falling Stars to Smash Motherfuckers in their Face by Jillian Clark. This collection has more to it than just a great title.
5 comments:
thanks for ordering, adam. :)
Great taste, man.
I need to work something out with the wife (and creditors) so I can start ordering some fucking books.
Great taste, man.
I need to work something out with the wife (and creditors) so I can start ordering some fucking books.
Great taste, man.
I need to work something out with the wife (and creditors) so I can start ordering some fucking books.
ha! I'm such an impatient fuck. Sorry man. Just finished mowing and my fingers are all twitchy. How you like that, a second shitty excuse.
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