hello book lovers---
bedouin books is proud to announce a new book of poems from liz collins, neo logo isms, as part of its winter/spring 2008-09 season.
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liz collins is:
'a poetess akin to HD in resonant lyric/womaness... [her] work is sacred elixir, a remedy we nearly forgot to recall'
antoinette nora claypoole, author/Oregon Literary Arts recipient
collins' work is: 'juicy, provocative and challenging... the poems read like sacred chants for a planet that awaits our attention'
Linda Saccoccio, artist and writer
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visit our website to order your copy
m.d'alessandroeditorwww.bedouinbooks.comt.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
New Book by Summer Brenner
A note from Summer Brenner about her new book. Looks awesome!
To friends and acquaintances, near and far,
Attached is an announcement of my new book from PM Press/Switchblade: I-5, A Novel of Crime, Transport, and Sex. A 400-mile crime scene along the interstate from LA to Oakland. Not exactly scenic, but if you like sinister thrillers, this is an order form which directs you to a website <http://www.pmpress.org/> and/or PM's tel. 510.658.3906.
For schedule of events and readings in SF, LA, and NYC, check PM website.
Cheers! Summer Brenner
Advance comments: ..."insider's look at the seedy world of sexual slavery...." David Batstone, Not for Sale campaign.
"....This book bleeds truth -- and after you finish it, the blood will be on your hands." Barry Gifford, Wild at Heart.
"....Anya is a wonderful, believable heroine, her tragic tale told from the inside out, without a shred of sentimental pity....." Denise Hamilton, author and editor of Los Angeles Noir.
"...no better novel in the genre. Roll over, Willeford, tell Goodis the news." Owen Hill, poet and crime writer.
"...moves so fast you can barely catch your breath....." Julie Smith, author, journalist, and editor of New Orleans Noir.
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It's April already?
National Poetry Month:
I read this poem that I wrote back in 2003 at Mina's school's morning assembly on April first to kickstart poetry month. I forgot that one of her nicknames was "goose" until I came across this poem.
“The Goose”
The goose’s beak trembles as it leans
Toward you to pluck stale bread
From your miniature hand.
Green goose muck stains your white
Leather shoes and my socks, thighs
And shorts where you climbed into my arms
After the geese’s excited squawking scared you.
Together we have eased down to goose-level,
Eye to eye. We coax it closer with tossed bits of bread.
We are almost still like the oaks dropping
Spiraling leaves. You and the goose step forward
Examining each other, cautiously deciding to continue
The exchange. Each is offering a measure of delight.
I stand back as you seem to fall from me, not painfully
But like a natural extraction. Like the changing of the seasons,
The world revolves from dangerous to safe. There will be
So many geese, my goose, that I will never see.
I read this poem that I wrote back in 2003 at Mina's school's morning assembly on April first to kickstart poetry month. I forgot that one of her nicknames was "goose" until I came across this poem.
“The Goose”
The goose’s beak trembles as it leans
Toward you to pluck stale bread
From your miniature hand.
Green goose muck stains your white
Leather shoes and my socks, thighs
And shorts where you climbed into my arms
After the geese’s excited squawking scared you.
Together we have eased down to goose-level,
Eye to eye. We coax it closer with tossed bits of bread.
We are almost still like the oaks dropping
Spiraling leaves. You and the goose step forward
Examining each other, cautiously deciding to continue
The exchange. Each is offering a measure of delight.
I stand back as you seem to fall from me, not painfully
But like a natural extraction. Like the changing of the seasons,
The world revolves from dangerous to safe. There will be
So many geese, my goose, that I will never see.