One of the most stylish skaters ever.
THUR, July 24th:
Lauren Ireland/Lisa Ciccarello/Jeff Alessandrelli/Tyler Brewington/Kelly Schirmann @ Vermillion Art Gallery and Bar, 7:00-8:30
SUN, July 27th:
Rob Schlegel/Amber Nelson/Jeff Alessandrelli/Don Mee Choi @ The Pine Box, 7:00-8:30
Last Thursday my kind of review of A Poet’s Glossary by Ed Hirsch went live at TheFanzine. Sample sentence in it: “But I guess what I’m also trying to say is that reading through Hirsch’s book forced me to consider the (probable) truth that I’m not that great a poet, nor are a lot of the great (contemporary) poets I love.” Sample sentence that didn’t make the cut: “The etymology of the word blurb is disgusting, covered with lice and mini-mart cheese.”
The Academy of American Poets is the largest membership-based nonprofit organization fostering an appreciation for contemporary poetry and supporting American poets. For over three generations, the Academy has connected millions of people to great poetry through programs such as National Poetry Month, the largest literary celebration in the world; Poets.org, the Academy’s popular website; American Poets, a biannual literary journal; and an annual series of poetry readings and special events. Since its founding, the Academy has awarded more money to poets than any other organization.
The latest release that my little chapbook press, Dikembe Press, put out was Ships of Theseus by Christian Hawkey; peep one of the poems from Ships… at Poem-A-Day today:
I was born into a world that no longer exists, Mary Ruefle told me as we sat down to lunch at a Mediterranean restaurant in Rochester, NY. Although referring to how entrenched electronic devices are in our daily lives, and how terribly sad it is that more and more people have never known what it feels like to be off the grid for a day, let alone a week, she appeared to be talking about more than iPads and Bluetooths.
One of my favorite Beckett short stories:
Well, thought Belacqua, it’s a quick death, God help us all.
It is not.
Four Poems by Jeff Alessandrelli The fox condemns the trap, not himself. -William Blake Hold your own hand, be your own pet. No par…
"Skying/the clouds were/ dark//evil postmen scavenging/between vistas and continents." Along with some other next level poets, I have four poems in the new issue of Fruita Pulp. Tanks.
“Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.”
― Wallace Stevens