The Poetry Foundation Cites Kathi Wolfe

The Poetry Foundation published “Cheers to Split This Rock Poetry Festival: Ten Years Strong This Weekend!” earlier this month. The piece discusses Split This Rock’s success in highlighting under-represented poets, and cites a recent essay by Kathi Wolfe (Uppity Blind Girl, BrickHouse Books), a regular contributor to the Washington Blade.

Check out the links below for thoughtful discourse on intersectionality and representation in poetry, and a collection of poetry relevant to current events:

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P. Ivan Young Featured In American Life in Poetry

U.S. Poet Laureate Ted Kooser recently featured P. Ivan Young’s poem “Fishing for Bream” in American Life in Poetry, Column 681. What a wonderful honor!

“Fishing for Bream” is part of P. Ivan Young’s collection, Smell of Salt, Ghost of Rain, released by BrickHouse Books in 2015. “Visiting the Neighborhood,” also part of Smell of Salt, Ghost of Rain, was featured in Column 640 in 2017.

Kathi Wolfe Featured in RogueAgent

Kathi Wolfe’s poem, To My Eyes is featured in Issue 35 of RogueAgent! Congratulations, Kathi!

Kathi Wolfe is a writer and poet whose work has been featured in several publications, including Gargoyle and Beltway Poetry Quarterly. She was the winner of the 2014 Stonewall Chapbook competition with her collection, The Uppity Blind Girl Poems. You can follow Kathi on Twitter @UppityBlindGirl.

Charles Rammelkamp Reviews Adair-Hodges’ Let’s All Die Happy

BrickHouse Books’ Prose Editor recently reviewed Erin Adair-Hodges’ debut poetry collection, Let’s All Die Happy (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2017), in the Winter 2017 edition of the Adirondack Review. You can read the review online here: adirondackreview.homestead.com.

December’s Excerpts – Donald Richardson’s ReUNIONS

Cover of ReUNIONS by Donald Richardson. Cover is mostly blank, with the sketch of a man with his back slightly turned toward us. His posture is relaxed; his hands are in his pockets, his sleeves rolled up, and he appears to be reflecting on his life. A signature of the artist, Bob Callahan, is prominently figured beside the man. TEXT reads: ReUNIONS: New and Selected Poems by Donald Richardson.

This month, we’re bringing you a holiday edition of our featured monthly excerpts with selections from Donald Richardson’s ReUNIONS! Enjoy these three poems, selected by the poet himself!


Christmas, 1968

After hours of drunken sledding late
that snow-covered Christmas night
then back again in the warm house
after shedding our coats
we looked around to find one blond head
missing. We went back out to look and
my sister’s big husband found him pissed and
passed out in a snow drift just above the barns
between some huge boxwoods deep in snow
on his way up the serpentine walk to the big house
(he surely would have died right there)
and saved him to spend the better part
of the next forty years or so
still missing, drunk or passed out
to die at 55 on the coast of Maine
somewhere. . .
but there was never
any better place, softer, quieter
than that deep pure white snow late
Christmas night of 1968.


I knownamalot

I knownamalot to whitely quietly dream
of us sledding the huge hill behind Tacaro
on a quite drunk Christmas Eve
now almost 50 years ago.
I couldn’t see the snow;
it kept melting in my eyes,
in my hands, my frozen tears
in my head. It has never melted from
back there in 1968 December 24
and the last Christmas
we would see all of us together
in it blindly racing down the big hill,
the biggest we all might see
through the snow gone to
yesterday or Yesterday’s (a friend’s bar)
to somewhere we would know
only when we got there,
and other hills, other snows, other bars
would find us incomplete
alive and dead all the years since
that particular miracle just melted
before our eyes ever understood
the miracle we were inside of
that was almost all ours
and always would be.


There Are Two Sides

Every river
like every argument
has two sides and
what you need
to understand is
what lies between,
how deep it is,
how strong the current is
how far can you swim.


ReUNIONS can be ordered directly from BrickHouse Books. Follow our blog, or join us on Twitter and Facebook for more updates and future monthly excerpts!

Cyber Monday – Coming Soon!

Did you know that BrickHouse Books has a wide selection of poetry and prose available at major online retailers?

Did you know that you can sometimes find one of our out-of-print books on retail sites?

SHOP BRICKHOUSE BOOKS on Black Friday and Cyber Monday! Bookworms and poetry lovers will treasure your gift forever!

Find BrickHouse Books offerings at these online retailers:

Featured Excerpt: Poems from Adrian Koesters’ Three Days with the Long Moon

Cover image of THREE DAYS WITH THE LONG MOON, a collection of poems by Adrian Koesters. A full moon shines over silhouetted treetops.This month, we’re taking a peak inside Adrian Koesters’ latest, phenomenal release, Three Days with the Long Moon, a collection that author Kathleen Flenniken called “as intimate as love letters.” We agree, and we think you will too.


Penitentiary

Remembering backwards, the dizzy recourse
of the year ahead, the one in which you said—you will say—
Remember. The mercy that was last year.

The story of her ankles, the phonograph
playing, the icy stops, fingers wringing,
ankles a cross message, an uncontrolled story.

Advertising the self, the self in one’s hands,
the year an iceberg on which a bell is set backwards,
the self a story of a clapper stopped

against the interior of a yoke. No mercy
at your hands, no rings, no touch uncontrolled.
Working at the backwards grasp, no moment

to finish. Between mercy and mercy
and control, between grasping and control,
between Tell me a story and Touch my hands.

The backward of mercy, the back word of mercy
likely is, will be, if you demand it, Remember.
Remember. The phonograph plays it, counter-clock.


Desire

A flaccid arm under the palm of desire
makes a game of hiding in itself
and becomes the bitter wealth of desire

Marriages renew on working promises
held up to cardboard and concrete,
they shine still in the wedding-glass of desire

She kisses an unspent cheek, he touches
her one good breast with his mind
after their long walk in the ruins of desire

The sweetness of all that didn’t happen
on their wedding night melts
when at last they try to snatch at desire

You’re on the threshold of the flash
that inflames old wives, but they won’t
trade in their little secrets of desire

A funnel of smoke, a nib of cocoa
on her lip, spent spirits inside his breath
concoct a likely story of desire

You remember the stones, the shell inside
your pocket, Adrian, the storm that threw
sands against the cottage window of desire


14 Lines on the Nature of Formality

When your friend addressed you as Dear
Heart last morning and Madame
Architect today. As when there are
no egg cups, and you must crack
the soft-boiled eggs into the plate. As when
your brother hands you his razor to shave
your legs, and the key to the wind-up
clock goes missing for lack of winding

and a couple of moves, and as when
in fact the bread has been tossed from the
cupboard but so the chocolate remains.
As when the nylons never leave the drawer.
As when your shoes are all flat ones,
dear heart, your shoes are all flat ones.


Here to Behave

for Peggy

The wolf’s a predator like any
other, so the storyteller says.
Dreaming we don wolf’s
clothes, make ourselves incomp-
rehensible and singular, then
waken, the same sheep.
Dawn brings armistice, recon-
ciliation till the next game
of dusk. Dawn sugar on fingers,
salt behind teeth. Sliced sun in
December fog, browned leaf
on the green bud. Juice of
grapefruit. Stone walk, birds
peck for what they peck. Fires
smoke themselves in the stacks,
walking sticks name us, good,
propels up the worst of the hills.

Yet the night, before the longest moon
rising, utter black. Our greatest friend.


Learn more about Adrian Koesters at adriankoesters.com. Three Days with the Long Moon, and Koesters’ first release with BrickHouse Books, Many Parishes, are available now at online retailers.