{ Kill Class – poems – Nomi Stone }

Kill Class
poems, Nomi Stone
Tupelo Press 2019

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My praise for this book is: I don’t know where to put my praise for this book. Nomi Stone’s Kill Class is disorienting and surefooted; is a landscape spiritual that weeps not away, but toward.  Immersion is not a drill, and practice is born perfect. For all Kill Class so clinically prepares, the paused hungers of its verse, and the appetites therein, offer that perhaps we had our error and ate it, too.   War calls it body; this violence that puts meat on the bone.  And Stone asks for more.  For the body to show its face.  For wound to do the salting.  For humanization to finish what it started. For transactional oneness.  And for surgery, before we vanish.

~

reflection by Barton Smock

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book is here:

Kill Class

{ note 6/6/19 }

for whose body is mine a clue. sometimes I ask. yesterday I had a panic attack. not out of, but yanked into, the blue. up all night with all the ways my children might die. in reading others, I feel often that I’ve ruined another’s writing. loneliness and its quest to be an imposition. I hope it gets there.

I wrote this, previously: I am from the future. I miss you.

anyway, while working to change some of what {isacoustic*} does, or offers, I’ve decided to open submissions again. however, {isacoustic*} is not currently, as it was once, a paying market. it will be again. but not, now.

-Barton

{ Emily As Sometimes the Forest Wants the Fire – poems – Darren C. Demaree }

Emily As Sometimes the Forest Wants the Fire
poems, Darren C. Demaree
Harpoon Books 2019

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If god were here, above this pool in backyard Ohio, I think he’d write with wasp. I say this as the imagined part-owner of a disembodied worry as gifted to any who might look up from Darren C. Demaree’s Emily As Sometimes the Forest Wants the Fire and feel a sort of third-wheel holiness in the running of a blood that sobers itself alongside Demaree’s converging of absence with artifact. As partnership may absolve loneliness of secretly playing tag and as shadow makes a lost feast for long animals, Emily, like inclusion, is untouchable. Using simile as bait for metaphor, and metaphor to say in the same breath both pain and paint, this verse fishes compass from the ashes of emergence. These are love, or better yet, loved, poems, but no phrasing here brackets tenderness as a search engine. If it’s true that muse is a trapdoor, Demaree upends discovery and makes of minimalism the handprint that trespass uses to contextualize and de-center worship that it might erase the hand and lure from fantasy the have-not of an only dream.

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reflection by Barton Smock

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book is here:
https://www.harpoonreviewbooks.com/catalog/emily-as-sometimes-the-forest-wants-the-fire-by-darren-demaree

{ Banjo’s Inside Coyote – poems – Kelli Allen }

Banjo’s Inside Coyote
poems, Kelli Allen
C&R Press, 2018

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Verbose, strange, and woozily humble, Kelli Allen’s Banjo’s Inside Coyote crafts the hand you don’t write with and teaches one to read anything but it. How bold and earthly a move it is to make of verse an anti-inheritance and to re-other the romancing of those meek designs our art so often has on detail. These are poems made of city and of country, of salted star and of the left-footed river. Whether embodied beast or distant dust mite, they find with oddity a clarity enough to bring joy to a past joy. And as Allen so gingerly resurrects suddenness from its foregone surprise, you’ll want to double back might amnesia forget what it knows.

~

reflection by Barton Smock

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book is here:

Banjo’s Inside Coyote