Kitchen Press Chapbooks
We Are Not Currently Accepting Unsolicited Chapbook Manuscripts
Monday, March 27, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
Justin Marks, Chris Tonelli, and Carol Novak will read in the Frequency Series
FREQUENCY READING SERIES
Saturday March 25th at 2:30 PM
at the Four-Faced Liar165 West 4th St. (212) 366-0608
A,C,E,F, or V to West 4th
FREE
Saturday, March 25th will feature Chris Tonelli, Justin Marks, and Carol Novak.
Copies of ALL Kitchen Press chapbooks will be available for purchase!
Chris Tonelli lives in Cambridge, MA. His work has recently appeared
or is forthcoming in Verse, LIT, GutCult, New York Quarterly, Drunken
Boat, Sonora Review , Asheville Poetry Review, and Redivider. His
chapbook, Wide Tree, is available from Kitchen Press.
Justin Marks has poems in, or forthcoming from, Fulcrum, The Literary
Review, McSweeney's, Typo, Word For/Word, RealPoetik,
canwehaveourballback?, Black Warrior Review, Coconut and others. His
chapbook, You Being You by Proxy, is out on Kitchen Press. His full length
manuscript, Twenty Five Hours in Iceland and Other Poems, was a
finalist for the 2006 May Swenson Poetry Award. He is Editor of LIT
magazine and lives in New York City.
Carol Novack's writings can or will be found in many publications,
including The Penguin Book of Australian Women Poets, Anemone Sidecar,
Big Bridge, Diagram (web and print), elimae, Milk Magazine, Mindfire,
Muse Apprentice Guild, Newtopia, Opium, Pindeldyboz, Retort, Ravenna
Hotel, SmokeLong Quarterly, Unpleasant Event Schedule, Word Riot, and
Yankee Pot Roast. Her prose poem/fusion "Destination" was selected
as a "best" of Web Del Sol fiction at Sol eScene (Series 20). Carol
publishes and edits the "edgy and enlightened" multimedia journal Mad
Hatters' Review: http://www.madhattersreview.com, hosted by Web Del
Sol, and she is co-editing an anthology of innovative, "intoxicating"
fiction, Butterflies of Vertigo. Carol's launching the Mad Hatters'
Poetry, Prose & Anything Goes Reading Series at the KGB Bar on April
7th. Her burgeoning blog, http://carolnovack.blogspot.com , provides
additional details.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
Friday, March 03, 2006
Wide Tree, by Chris Tonelli
Wide Tree, by Chris Tonelli, is out. Copies will be available at AWP.
from Wide Tree
ELEGY
for George Mazzoni
There is a place
I can’t get to
because he is dead.
I want to live at
the ocean because
he did. I will go to
his town even, his
house. But what
will I go there to
receive? The junipers
unpruned? We think
of trees as places
and as defining
places. I had never
thought of him as
defining a place.
Maybe people should
have been trees.
Copyright © by Chris Tonelli, 2006.
Morning News, by Ana Bozicevic-Bowling
Just out: Ana Bozicevic-Bowling's Morning News. Copies will be available at AWP.
from Morning News
Thoughts on Things
In the hallway that precedes sleep
I’m visited
by the things of childhood:
the hallowed bread-box
a crisp white
edge of balcony
brown pears on white tiles.
Why does the mute
queue of things come?
No bread in the box, no view
from the ledge. But the roundness
of painted pears
says over and over
a round brown word,
the earnest key
found
in the eyes of dogs…
If I didn’t know about wind
trees would seem raging.
I don’t know what speaks
from things. Their sentences
come not as something
outside of me
but as one of me
only we speak
in opposite directions:
they speak from the end
into the beginning
from unbirth into life.
Copyright © by Ana Bozicevic-Bowling, 2006.
Fingergun, by Matt Rasmussen
Matt Rasmussen's Fingergun is out and available. For those of you going to AWP, I will have copies.
from Fingergun
Dream after Suicide
My brother stood
in the refrigerator light
drinking milk that poured
out of his head
through thick black curls,
down his back into a puddle
growing larger around him.
My body stood between
the living room and kitchen,
on the metal strip dividing
the carpet and linoleum.
He couldn’t hear his name
clouding from my mouth,
settling in the fluorescent air.
I wanted to put my finger
into the hole,
feel the smooth channel
he escaped through,
stop the milk
so he could taste it,
but my body held
as if driven into place.
The milk on the floor
reflected the light,
then became it.
Floated upward and outward
filling every shadow,
blowing the dark open.
Copyright © by Matt Rasmussen, 2005.