The Small Presses and Why We Love Them: Prick of the Spindle Editors Survey the Poetry Chapbook Scene
You saw it here first: we published Juliet Cook’s “Some Explanations for Fainting Goats” in Vol 1.1 of Prick of the Spindle. Soon after, her poem was selected for inclusion in the Best of the Net 2007 Anthology, judged by Chad Davidson and Merrill Feitell. Cook is also the founder of Blood Pudding Press, a DIY publishing offspring that (we’re guessing) she runs out of her basement. The self-described “indie poet” invites visitors to her website to “extract your bent spoons and prepare to dip into some creepy/yummy poetry” or to offer up poetry trades with “no stupid old money involved.” This got us thinking about the publishing world outside of the big mainstream presses, the forgotten stepchildren that publish chapbooks and other misfits that value art and beauty over profit and fame. A friend of mine once described the chapbook as the only pure form of publishing left—no pressure to market or sell copies, just the chance to enjoy great writing. They also offer a great opportunity for new writers to break into the literary world. Below, our editors review a sampling of poetry chapbooks published over the past couple years, including four from Blood Pudding Press and a few from Winged City Chapbooks and Finishing Line Press. Enjoy!
Released by Blood Pudding Press in 2007, the poetry collection Growling Softly is aptly named; there is indeed something suppressed and waiting to pounce in many of the works within. The collection more or less embraces a theme—some works are dark, some grisly, but the most startling provide a window into a moment that, most commonly, is love or fear...
Planchette by Juliet Cook e.e. cummings was concerned with the physical presentation of a poem on the page. Juliet Cook takes that notion, and the entire concept of book arts, about seventeen steps further with her 2006 chapbook Planchette from Blood Pudding Press. From the get-go, she’s got enticement down to a science: Who wouldn’t want to read a pile of poems printed on rough blue card paper with long-haired, paranormal girls and rhinestones on the cover, bound lovingly with ribbon? [read more]
Before opening the hand-bound chapbook with its patterned, glitter-streaked overlays, something menacing warns not to mess with the girls of Juliet Cook’s Girl Gang. And once opened, there is power in the “tipsy giggles, deadly jump rope chants” of “girl gang #1” (18). It must come from the enchantment of “everything they’ve put in their mouths”: “their gummy mouths hold/ fake nails, sponge rollers, rubber skin, melting butterscotch/ hard candies, gold-tinged cellophane debris, metal roller skate keys” (26, 3-5). They are mouths that later join “a chorus of pink bubbles bursting” whose “kiss potioned lips” breathe magic in the form of chants many schoolgirls would imagine have a sinister power (16, 17). [read more]
New From Finishing Line Press . . . The dedication reads “For me, for getting over it,” so you have a pretty good idea you’re diving head first into, at best, the poet’s resilience, or at worst, the bloody aftermath of a love affair gone sour. Luckily, Fleegal’s self-reflection is elusive enough to present a lesson in the anatomy of heartbreak that reveals how love’s face darkens when you least expect it. Her poems exist on the cusp of discovery, “a secret about to be told.” She explores the distance, offerings and redemptions of trust and sex, sensually laying out the scene... [read more]
Case Walking: An AIDS Case Manager Wails Her Blues With this collection, Julene Tripp Weaver, an HIV/AIDS case manager in Seattle, attempts to cross the clinical line between caseworker and client, though it’s unclear if this is an act of deep respect or public therapy. Claiming HIV is “the ultimate lover,” the poems are populated with the usual suspects: the hippie who lost her way, the jailbird heroin addict, the methadone wanderer, and of course the sociopath. Weaver holds the hand of Rick, a man whose partner died before him, and tells him she loves him, though the professional restraint she must uphold as she follows “the rules” is often more heartbreaking than her attempts to humanize the sick and dying. Few authentic moments shine, though the ones that do, surface when Weaver acknowledges the ways institutions and individuals have failed to safeguard the most vulnerable... [read more]
New from Winged City Chapbooks . . . Opening with a bitter nod to the minds of Allen Ginsberg’s generation, Jonathan Penton takes us on a roller-coaster ride of one weathered, angst-ridden poet’s apocalyptic benedictions. Though it’s unclear who the deranged, philosophic ramblings are directed toward, my guess is they’re dissecting the relationship between god, man and artistic creation. With a biting tongue, he debunks egos, police officers and the poetic machine. “There’s no slice of the market you can eat,” he writes. “The market will always eat you.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the whole world must already be acquainted with Carlo X. Carlo X, of course, being the title of painter and poet Edward Boccia’s new chapbook from Pudding House Publications. If you haven’t caught on yet, each page offers a momentary sketch of the life of Carlo X, from the time he “looks at weed/ and thinks they’re roses,” to his more mature moments of martyrdom and contemplation... [read more]
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