Announcing Finalists for the Drunken Boat Poetry Book Contest

•December 16, 2014 • Leave a Comment

From the Drunken Boat website…

Drunken Boat would like to announce the completion of our 2014 Poetry Contest. A big thank you goes out to all the poets who participated, making this event the huge success that it was.

As you can imagine, we received hundreds of entries and the competition was impressive to say the least. Each entry received the intimate attention it deserved, having been read by no less than two discerning readers. Our competition judge Forrest Gander considered this role as both a great privilege and responsibility. Our winner will be announced soon!

The winning manuscript will be launched in 2015 at AWP with a special DB-hosted reading at Honey in Minneapolis. Excerpts from finalist manuscripts will be published in an upcoming DB folio.

Finalists are as follows:

Words on Edge by Michael Leong
If You Love Error So Love Zero by Stephanie Anderson
Nine Dragon Island by Eleanor Goodman
Alias Irene by Elisabeth Murawski
Hospital Series by Diana Thow
My Hypertropes: Twenty-One Minus One Programmed Poems in Translation and Transversion by Amaranth Borsuk
A Skin, Tendered by Haley Larson
The Ground I Stand On Is Not My Ground by Collier Nogues
My Cage Is the Size of the World: Selected Poems by Catherine Hammond
[It] Incandescent by Amy Pence
KAFKA, OUR ANIMAL by Meredith Stricker.

Thank you for supporting Drunken Boat and for demanding that we toe the line by publishing the very best in American letters. We hope to hear from you all again in the future. For those contest entrants who purchased one of our books, we are currently at work processing orders.

Congrats again to our finalists, and thank you to everyone who supported this contest!

Chapbooks at Naissance

•December 15, 2014 • Leave a Comment

My chapbook The Hoax of Contagion (2010) is in the spotlight at Naissance this week, which means it will be free with the purchase of another Naissance title.


There are some strange and interesting chapbooks in Naissance’s catalog: I’d suggest Steve Giasson’s Psychosis, a conceptual work which is comprised of “all of the comments to a YouTube posting of the classic shower scene from Hitchcock’s Psycho.” Here’s an excerpt:

kthevsd Lame movies ? Kid I like all movies, old films, new films, etc. How is this classic lame ? Have you even ever watched it ? What would some 16 year old teenybopper know about cinema ? You probably have never even heard of Kurosawa and I bet you have never even seen a Daniel Day Lewis or Meryl Streep movie in your life. No wonder everyone laughs at your generations taste in films. 4 days ago markymark93 actually i have seen this movie, and i have seen movies with daniel day lewis AND meryl streep… i wouldnt be so quick to judge. how can you say you “like new films” if you’ve been bashing my generation’s movies the whole time? 3 days ago kthevsd @markymark93 If you have seen it than how can you find it lame ? It’s an iconic movie. A masterpiece. Everyone bashes the movies of today, some are good(Scorsese movies) but most are mindless(like transformers). If you understand cinema you have to admit the quality of films had drastically gone down. 3 days ago XxINCHAINSxX @markymark93 And whos obsessing over their opinion on youtube? Hmmm…

I would also recommend Roman Holiday, a sequence of prose poems by Eileen R. Tabios:

from Synopsis #7

It transcends the feminine gesture. [Consolation defined as the bat never reappeared]. She totters on ice despite thick ankles. [By his face, one can tell he’s about to deliver the boot.] He has a gaze like a mirror. [There is nothing like an infant tugging on a daddy’s white whiskers.] “Sulpicia, a Roman woman writer, wrote elegies in Latin that had been attributed to Tibullus.” [Whatever. True love is never chaste.]

from Slavoj Žižek’s Event: Philosophy in Transit (Penguin, 2014)

•December 7, 2014 • Leave a Comment

…what is the mere madness caused by the loss of reason compared to the madness of reason itself?

Reading w/ Margaret Chapman and John Lowther @ So and So Books, 704 N. Person ST, Raleigh, 12/13, 8pm

•November 24, 2014 • Leave a Comment

so and so

Margaret Patton Chapman is the author of the novella-in-flash Bell and Bargain, published by Rose Metal Press in 2014 as part of the collection My Very End of the Universe. Her very short fiction has appeared in Wigleaf, The Collagist, Diagram, and the anthology The Way We Sleep, among others. She received her MFA from The School of The Art Institute of Chicago, and taught fiction at The Iowa Summer Writers’ Festival and as a Visiting Professor at Indiana University South Bend. She is prose editor for decomP magazine, and lives in Durham, NC. You can find more of her work at

Michael Leong’s most recent book of poetry is Cutting Time with a Knife (Black Square Editions, 2012). His chapbook Fruits and Flowers and Animals and Seas and Lands Do Open will be published in 2015 by the Burnside Review Press. He currently teaches in the low res B.F.A. Program at Goddard College and will join the English Department at The University at Albany, SUNY as an Assistant Professor in August.

John Lowther’s work appears in the anthologies, The Lattice Inside (UNO Press, 2012) and Another South: Experimental Writing in the South (U of Alabama, 2003). Held to the Letter, co-authored with Dana Lisa Young is forthcoming from Lavender Ink. John works in video, photography, paint and performance. He’s writing a dissertation to reimagine psychoanalysis as grounded in the lives of intersex and transgender people so as to broaden our appreciation of subjective possibility.

Neo-Surrealism’s Forked Tongue: Reflections on the Dramatic Monologue, Politics, and Community in the Recent Poetry of Will Alexander and John Yau

•November 9, 2014 • 2 Comments

My article “Neo-Surrealism’s Forked Tongue: Reflections on the Dramatic Monologue, Politics, and Community in the Recent Poetry of Will Alexander and John Yau” just appeared in Contemporary Literature 55.3 (Fall 2014).

Here are three paragraphs from a beginning section:

American writers and critics have long dismissed surrealism and have misunderstood the variegated legacies and ongoing futures of surrealist poetry. According to Susan Sontag, “Surrealism in painting amounted to little more than the contents of a meagerly stocked dream world,” while “[p]oetry, the other art to which the early Surrealists were particularly devoted, has yielded almost equally disappointing results” (51). For the cantankerous poet-critic William Logan, “American Surrealism” is “a style . . . that has always seemed rather mushheaded.” While surrealism is “revolutionary in France or eastern Europe,” he argues, “[i]n America, it’s more like middle-class self-indulgence.” In “The Luxury of ‘Surrealism’ (pt 1),” Johannes Göransson has further identified the perceived and pejorative linkages between surrealism and an aesthetics of kitsch and counterfeitism. One could surely find a glut of similar examples that needn’t be elaborated here, but I’d like to focus on the fact that a newer generation of American poets—who even claim surrealism as an important influence—is ignoring the manifold mutations and multiple routes of surrealism since its early Parisian phase and thus limiting its potential for alternative poetic communities and allegiances.

For the Summer/Fall 2010 issue of Gulf Coast, editor Hannah Gamble organized a group interview under the premise that “a new generation of surrealist- and absurdist-influenced poetry had emerged in the U.S., written by poets ranging from their mid-twenties to mid-forties” (Christle et al. 249). Gamble approached Heather Christle, Matthew Rohrer, Zachary Schomburg, and Matthew Zapruder and asked them to discuss “what . . . ‘surrealism’ even mean[s], in American poetry today” and to address “the ‘surrealist’ label and their relationship to it.” All of the respondents, save Christle, expressed a simultaneous indebtedness to surrealism as well as a “resistance” to (250) or hesitance about what Rohrer calls “something that is so clearly defined and specific” (252). Rohrer, who professes to be “a huge fan and student of the French Surrealists,” insists that “the word ‘surreal’ really refers to them—to those people actually, and to that time specifically, and to Paris, etc.” (252). According to Schomburg, “if we’re going to label something surreal now, those poems should probably resemble each other in some tangible way, or they should perhaps resemble the French Surrealists’ poems in some tangible way. There should probably be a new word for it, and a new manifesto” (250).  For Zapruder, the misuse of the word surrealism makes him “want to rescue its original definition.” What we have here, in other words, is an effort to entomb surrealism within the annals of art and literary history and to ground any kind of contemporary surrealist community not only in a homogeneity of formal resemblance (“those poems should probably resemble each other”) but also within a common, unidirectional genealogy (“those people . . . [in] Paris”). This view obscures surrealism’s complex diaspora across both stylistic and national borders and relegates surrealism to a procrustean, nationally specific past. For instance, one might think of the considerable influence that the négritude writers Léon Damas and Aimé Césaire had on Jayne Cortez and her electrifying brand of “super-surrealism,” or the influence of Federico García Lorca on Bob Kaufman, or Will Alexander’s early collection The Stratospheric Canticles, whose epigraphs pay homage to surrealist writers as diverse as Octavio Paz, Rafael Alberti, and Shuzo Takiguchi.

Rohrer, Schomburg, and Zapruder understand surrealism as astatic aesthetic, as opposed to an ecstatic one, one that is “beside itself” or “out of place,” one that resists being placed within a national framework. I propose that we should not treat surrealism as a historical school, as if it were a short-lived movement such as Fauvism or Vorticism. Surrealism, on the contrary, is a discursivity, such as Marxism or psychoanalysis. André Breton not so much defined surrealism, pace Zapruder, as he established what Michel Foucault would call “an endless possibility of discourse” (154). A surrealism of endless possibility is at odds with Rohrer’s notion of a “clearly defined and specific” one that is delimited by a single place and temporality. In “What Is an Author?” Foucault observes that Marx and Freud—and Breton, I would add—“have created a possibility for something other than their discourse, yet something belonging to what they founded . . . [they have] made possible a certain number of divergences” (154–55). I intend not so much to diminish Breton’s role in the history of surrealism as to explore a significant divergence, a furious and fulgurant forking, a something other within the marvelous discursivity called surrealism. Alexander’s and Yau’s poems don’t obviously “resemble each other in some tangible way”: we can think of Alexander’s aggressively arcane diction and his etymological eruptions in comparison to Yau’s surgically precise and subversive humor, his shape-shifting versatility and semantic sleights of hand. Both poets, nevertheless, draw on a poetic doubleness, a strategy that has a distinctly neo-surrealist inflection. This doubleness is manifested in both poets’ use of the dramatic monologue (an eminently “double” form), in their investment in projecting complex personae of alterity, and in their fracturing and re-fusing of the English language. Finally, both poets—one from the East Coast and one from the West Coast—imagine surrealism as a communal project that is organized not around a specific time and place but around a transracial, anatopic cosmopolitanism.

While attitudes found in that 2010 Gulf Coast interview I mention above are prevalent, I’m pleased that there have been recent efforts to expand an understanding of surrealist poetry beyond reference to white writers and the so-called “heroic period” of surrealism’s Parisian phase.  For example, Joanna Pawlik’s 2011 article “Ted Joans’ surrealist history lesson” “argues for the importance of Ted Joans within histories of surrealism, which seldom acknowledge the existence of the movement post-World War II or its participants outside of interwar Paris.”

Likewise, Sam Durant’s exhibition Invisible Surrealists, which was on display at Paula Cooper Gallery from September 12 – October 18, intervenes within popular historical accounts of surrealism to bring “invisible” figures to light.  This is an excerpt from the exhibition’s press release:

Inspired by Robin D.G. Kelley’s essay, “Keepin’ it (Sur)real: Dreams of the Marvelous,” Durant’s new body of work revisits the history of Surrealism, casting light on lesser-known members of the movement from the Francophone colonies. Using iconic group photographs of the celebrated Paris-based founders of the movement like André Breton, Man Ray and Leon Trotsky, Durant alters the images, inserting a number of overlooked artists such as Wifredo Lam, René Ménil, Aimé and Suzanne Césaire, Jules Monnerot and Joyce Mansour.

By revising the Eurocentric narrative and creating new archival imagery, Durant’s drawings question the photograph’s ability to represent history, exposing it instead as an instrument with which collective amnesia and repression are perpetuated.

So Durant appropriates Man Ray’s 1924 photograph of the surrealist group in an act of canon revision; he places, for example, Wifredo Lam, the Cuban painter of Chinese, African, and Spanish ancestry, into the lower left hand corner so he too can sit at the table of surrealist discourse.

Invisible Surrealists

Sam Durant, “Poetry Must Be Made By All, Not By One,” 2014; Graphite on paper; 26 x 40 in. (66 x 101.6 cm); framed: 28 x 41 1/2 x 1 1/2 in. (71.1 x 105.4 x 3.8 cm)


Hrag Vartanian has a good account of Durant’s show, “The Revolutionary Postcolonial Imagination of Surrealism” in Hyperallergic.

I also enjoyed recently reading Joyelle McSweeney’s “The Flame in the Grate: Uche Nduka’s Surrealism,” which appeared in the November/December 2014 issue of the Boston Review (thanks to Stefania Heim for procuring a copy for me). McSweeny argues, “The work of Brooklyn-based writer and artist Uche Nduka confirms the persistence of Surrealism in its classic, convulsive mode.” Indeed, surrealism is alive and well: one just needs to know where to look for it.

Poets’ Quarterly Fall 2014

•October 13, 2014 • Leave a Comment

My essay “The Poetry of Non-Poetry: On Alan Bigelow’s ‘This Is Not A Poem,'” which originally appeared in Goddard College’s BFA in Creative Writing Blog, was just reprinted in the current issue of Poets’ Quarterly.  Thanks to Leslie L. Nielsen for recirculating the piece.  Click here to check out Bigelow’s digital poem.

2014 Burnside Review Chapbook Contest

•September 26, 2014 • Leave a Comment


I’m very happy to have won the 2014 Burnside Review Chapbook Contest. And I’m very much looking forward to having Fruits and Flowers and Animals and Seas and Lands Do Open come out in ’15.


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