Bear Eats Pizza, Wins Meat Raffle (Minneapolis #7)

Skyline (Minneapolis #6)

Ruth Adams & the World's Most Dangerous Polka Band (Minneapolis #5)

John Ashbery Was Here (Minneapolis #4)

Going to the Prom (Minneapolis #3)

Rock-n-Roll All Nite (Minneapolis #2)

We Were Ghosts (Minneapolis #1)

Orange with Knife, Apple

Grapes are so weird looking...

...especially when pinned to your cubicle wall.

A Fan's Note

a few months ago i posted some videos of a reading i had in my apartment. here's a comment from a recent viewer:

If it's not OJ or diarrhea, why write this shit? And if it's already written, and it has been written countless times, then why perform this faggot-mawkish thoughtless tripe? You're all a bunch of tasteless shysters; your mothers must have been impregnated by the same dull fart.

i love that someone out there was so completely moved (even if to hatred) by the work read in the videos. we, the collective spawn of dull farts, must be doing something right!

A Case of the Mondays

Every day when I get to work I am depressed. I do like my job, but when I settle into my desk, log on to my computer and start on my morning coffee, I almost always feel like crying. Perhaps too much caffeine (though I only drink one cup and am a zombie without it).

It’s a distinct shift in mood. I do not dread coming to work. I am general content when I wake in the morning. On the subway I am groggy but not unhappy, especially if I’m reading, which is pretty much always.

But at my desk the world begins to crumble. Depression. Anxiety. Anger and frustration. I have so much work to do. And nothing. I have so much to do at home. Chapbooks to make, errands to run, not to mention all the poems I’m not writing. Music might help, so I listen to my iPod. Or maybe peruse some blogs. On none of this can I concentrate for very long.

What Poets Do on the Weekend

Bruce Andrews gets a lesson in G=U=I=T=A=R=H=E=R=O from Katie Degentesh




Bruuuuuuuce!! Bruuuuuuuuuuuce!!!!

Essays & Fictions Release Party and Reading

Thursday April 10, 7pm (doors open at 6)
@ Jimmy’s No. 43, NYC
7th St between 2nd and 3rd Ave

Featuring readings by:
Justin Marks
Jessamyn Lee
Abry Montablano
Daniel C. Metz
Jeff Paris
Matt Henriksen

Musical performance by The Acoustic Sprinkle Genies

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy

(repeatedly) 'Ever to confess you're bored
means you have no

Inner Resources.' I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,

Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as achilles,

Who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away

into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.


---
John Berryman, Dream Song #14