[Local events] Wed 6/20: King, Swartz, & Harris
david at passagesbookshop.com
Thu Jun 14 17:31:04 PDT 2018
/Spare Room presents/ <http://www.flim.com/spareroom/>
*Bradley King, Rose Swartz, & Ally Harris*
*Wednesday, June 20*
*Passages Bookshop <http://www.passagesbookshop.com>*
1223 NE ML King Blvd.
$5 suggested donation; no one turned away
*Bradley Ray King* was born to a farming Christian family in Altus,
Oklahoma. Since obtaining graduate degrees at the University of Texas,
he has taught writing, journaling, and literature to middle school
through college students. His chapbook /Slow Leaves/ is just out from
*Rose Swartz *is a poet, photographer, and union carpenter. Originally
from Michigan, she has been calling a renovated garden shed in Portland
home for the past few years. Her latest collection of poems is a
chapbook from Abandon Press entitled /Panhandle/.
*Ally Harris* runs the Submission Reading Series
<http://submissionpdx.org/> in Portland, Oregon, in which readers are
selected by blind online submission. She has poems in /The Maine Review,
Denver Quarterly, TYPO, Bennington Review,/ and more.
*Abandon Press* (est. 2008) publishes short-run letterpress editions of
literature. Located in a barn outside Nehalem, the print shop operates
by way of dumb luck, cheap beer, meticulous finagling, and pacts with
spiders. Dead mice were recently discovered in a case of the dullest
fonts (think Cheltenham, Arial, Comic Sans).
We said something
into an arrangement
It builds to what
I can’t hear
any way out of
that you might offer
So let’s talk more
Let’s try separate
breakfasts, bus routes,
Let’s talk about bed
and where to lay
and with it
“Or let’s just not say anything,”
adds a persistence
to make good
which paves me
Alone on the bridge with huge bruises on my legs
strips of sod flap on the slanted horizon
fields flung aside, kaleidoscopic. I jump
in the river and it flies through my esophagus
my body downs silt, coughs clouds.
A living thing: that river. The shadow
which is with me does not belong to me.
In the current is the sound of another. Shouting
low over the orchards, laughter still gathers
in the lungs' sloppy deltas, wicked creeks.
Bloodstop the sky lest the sun get out,
Wild One, hear the trees snap, come running.
Great Plains, river gone, the church walls whistle.
I stand still and watch the tornado come in.
I set some of the daydream down.
Dry light resides in dirt
damp dark gives way to stars.
1223 NE ML King Blvd
Portland, OR 97232
fine, rare, and unusual
books and graphic art
poetry, avant-garde art
fine printing, artist's books
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