Chapbook Presses

a+bend press

anchorite press

atticus finch

belladonna*

big game books

black lodge press

braincase press

dos press

cannibal chapbooks series

carve editions

cy gist press

cypress poetry

dancing girl press

dusie

effing press

fewer & further press

flaming giblet press

h-ngm-n

horseless press

hooke press

hot whiskey press

house press

katalanche press

kitchen press

lame house press

meritage press

octopus books

overhere press

palm press

pilot books

plantarchy

potes & poets press

not a press, per se, but

rustbuckle

the tangent press

tarpaulin sky press

taxt

teeny tiny

transmission press

ugly duckling presse

woodland editions

ypolita press

"Modernist diction may, in ways still to be fully elucidated, be indebted to female gender stances (in Stein, in Loy, in Moore). Marianne DeKoven, assimilating Kristeva, sees modernist 'experimental writing as anti-patriarchal' a stance necessary to rupture dominant culture by a focus on the signifier, not the signified, and interestingly initiated by a woman, Gertrude Stein. Jeanne Kammer suggests that the modernist style in Dickinson, Moore and H.D. was born from the pressures of silence -- 'habits of privacy, camouflage, and indirection' -- which resulted in 'linguistic compression' and juxtaposition." (DuPlessis H.D.7) I like this theory so much better than those who say that experimental writing is oblique, fractured, and a symptom of our alienation. Collage writing, especially, can be seen as a way of quilting, layering. Somehow, to some, complexity is seen as a form of fracture. Why? I don't know. Complexity to me, is a way of adding meaning, deepening experience. There was an interview than saddened me, with Sharon Dolin, who said the Language Poetry silences the I, and is anti-woman for her. But all the cool language poets are women so I don't see how that is exactly true. I don't think they are silencing the I, they are going beyond the I. The I is incredibly simple and small to me, whereas to go beyond it does not exclude it, but encompasses more, all of experience, universe sized.

Part I of "Eurydice" by H.D.

So you have swept me back,
I who have walked with the live souls
above the earth,
I who have slept among the live flowers
at last;

so for your arrogance
and your ruthlessness
I am swept back
where dead lichens drip
dead cinders upon moss of ash;

so for your arrogance
I am broken at last,
I who had lived unconscious,
who was almost forgot;

if you had let me wait
I had grown from listlessness into peace,
if you had let me rest with the dead,
I had forgot you
and the past.

I haven't posted in here in a really long time but I finally had a vision today. I've been back in Austin for AWP. I was just waking up after 3 days of constant panels etc., exhausted, sick, it's 6:45 am, and I look out the window, without my glasses on, and I see an old man sitting out there. He looks like my stepmom's father, who I know left for Kerrville the night before, so why is he here? Is he looking for her? Waiting for her? I'm sortof scared because he is staring at me, but I kindof feel like if he wants to stare, let him, and I roll over. After a while I realize it must only look like an old man becuase I don't have my glasses on, so I put them on and look. It is an orange ceramic chicken and a white plastic lawn chair, at such a weird angle that it looks like a flesh colored head with a white shirt. Can't even begin to decipher. Hopefully Liesse's dad is not about to die. There was an old man pestering me on the plane today, i so much wanted him to leave me alone, and not have to talk to him, it was rather unpleasant, but there may be some connection, otherwise it is something to understand only in the future.