Today I received spam e-mails from a Prefatory S. Steamrolling and a Consciousness H. Enviably, along with the more prosaic Giuliano Waggener. Maybe a poets' union should organize against spammers. They're going to put us all out of work.
Busy compiling the new poetry selection for the revived Bookery, I noticed that Amazon provides the following publisher's information for Ted Berrigan's The Sonnets: "Penguin (Non-Classics)." WTF?
Yesterday I actually got to spend some time with a few of my Austin acquisitions, namely the chapbook I won at the Unassocaited Garden Party raffle, Anselm Partalore's The Squalicum Harbor Suite from Hot Whiskey Press, and Brenda Hillman's Pieces of Air in the Epic from Wesleyan. Comments will follow, but I just wanted to mention now how the introduction to Partalore's book describes him as a practitioner of "the Post-Modern Baroque." I've always liked the sound of that appellation, even if I only have a vague notion of what it means: know it when I see it, etc. But it seems like an accurate descriptor of most of the work to be found in 1913. Producing difference by folding (beautifully) the impermeable silk skein of totality, mayhap.
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