Archive for the ‘42 Miles Press’ Category
42 Miles Press Book Release
TRACEY KNAPP reads from MOUTH
Thursday, Oct 22 at 7:30 pm
3rd Floor Bridge, Wiekamp Hall, IUSB
book sales and signing to follow
free and open to the public
Tracey Knapp is the author of Mouth, winner of the 42 Miles Press Poetry Award in 2014. She has received scholarships from the Tin House Writers’ Workshop and the Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Fund. Her work has appeared in Best New Poets 2008 and 2010, Five Points, Red Wheelbarrow Review, The New Ohio Review, The Minnesota Review, The Carolina Quarterly and elsewhere. She lives in San Francisco. Find her at traceyknapp.com
We are very excited to announce that Tracey Knapp, of San Francisco, California, has won the 42 Miles Press Poetry Award for her manuscript, Mouth. The award includes a $1,000 prize in addition to the publication of her book by 42 Miles Press in September 2015. Tracey will give a reading at Indiana University South Bend upon publication. Congratulations, Tracey!
Tracey studied art, English and poetry at Syracuse University, Ohio University and Boston University. She grew up in upstate New York, but presently lives in San Francisco, where she works as a graphic designer. Her poems have been anthologized in Best New Poets 2008 and 2010, and have appeared in Five Points, New Ohio Review, The Carolina Quarterly, The Minnesota Review and elsewhere. Tracey has received scholarships from The Tin House Writers’ Workshop and the Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Fund. Mouth is her first full-length collection of poems.
A Poem from Mouth:
I fell asleep in the grocery line while
waiting to buy you a ham. I was waiting
for the right moment to tell you.
I told you about my first time in
Cincinnati, the man on the bus
who smelled of formaldehyde.
I can still feel his wool jacket
scratching against my bare arm.
I can barely feel my fingers.
It’s so cold that the whiskers
on my dog look like icicles. We
are walking towards the sun’s last
attempt. The snow is stacked so high
but my dog begins digging like there’s
an enormous flank of steak beneath,
and what does he pull up but his old
squeaky whale! We hadn’t seen it since
summer. It’s been a difficult winter.
It’s been difficult to smoke pot
with my accountant. He tells me
it’s not the sixties, and it’s not the first
time I’ve heard that. The first time I heard
about your sick cat, I tried to call but
I heard you were turning yourself
into a grain of sand. I have turned
you into a grain of sand.
This is the first time I can honestly
say that. The first glass of wine
was followed by the next and now
it’s the first Monday at this new
desk, the first Monday I haven’t spent
the evening loathing my thighs
over a glass of wine. Where there’s
self-loathing, there’s yourself,
and then the one bright thing
underneath that makes life
worth digging for.
* first published in Best New Poets, 2008
2014 Finalists and Semi-Finalists list:
Admussen, Nick – “Fly or Flight”
Aliperti, Pia – “Solitude Must Share My Solitude”
*Berlin, Monica – “Nostalgia for a World Where We Can Live”
*Bursk, Christopher – “Enough for Any Mortal”
Chambers, Ashley – “The People I Make”
*Coutley, Lisa Fay – “tether”
Deming, Lynn – “In the Honeycomb Of Bone”
Finnell, Dennis – “Bright Containers”
Garcia, Kim – “The Brighter House”
Gottesman, Les – “The Humiliations”
Gutstein, Dan – “Cent / R.I.P. / et al.”
Kanke, Jennifer Schomburg – “Crash Course in the Philosophy of Passion”
*Kaplan, Dan – “instant killer wig”
Keniston, Ann – “Lament / Praise”
*Kuperman, Jaimee – “A Day at the Gene Pool”
Lavers, Michael – “The Theory of Everything”
*Lawless, Gregory – “I’ve Seen Thee Far Away”
Malboeuf, Jennie – “Heavy Animals”
Matthews, Clay – “Four-Way Lug Wrench”
McDowell, Gary L. – “Mysteries in a World that Thinks There Are None”
*Moran, Patrick – “There Are Things We Live Among”
*Myers, Gabrielle – “The Hive”
*Nelson, Dustin Luke – “Activity, Group”
*Pugh, Megan – “Whipsaw”
Rathkamp, Josh – “In Response”
Rees, Elizabeth – “What to Pack, What to Carry”
Ruzkowski, Andrew – “Don’t Be Scared the Light is Perfect”
Schlaifer, Stephanie Ellis – “Clarkston Street Polaroids”
Sereno, Prartho – “my work with elephants”
*Staley, Tim – “Lost on My Own Street”
* denotes finalist
Winner of the 42 Miles Press Poetry Award, Bill Rasmovicz’s second full-length book of poems, Gross Ardor, focuses on a faith in the alchemy of the imagination. The book is post-apocalyptic in tone, but its incantatory rhythms and perceptual particularities, as they unfold line by line, create a continuously vibrant sense of the phenomenological, the subconscious as a loosely associative narrative that feels, one might say, breathed into existence. It is a visionary and transformative work in which the musicality of language becomes inseparable from the thinking that creates it, and the reader merges with this ongoing depiction of whatever might be said to constitute the world, a voice so urgent and fluid we become one with the book’s central guiding consciousness. Gross Ardor is a truly mesmerizing performance.
“With a nearly archaeological enthusiasm for the layeredness of language, perception, and memory, Bill Rasmovicz’s Gross Ardorexcavates the groove canals, pulls up the faceplates, lets the depth-charges blossom. These poems have surprise-fight in them. They have guts. They erupt. They go the surgical distance all along the horizon and even out beyond it—’implying you in everything’—making way for a soul, then walking you through it.” — Matt Hart
IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE IN THE SOUL
The little hairs in the lungs rust.
It is hard to imagine wind.
What is emptiness? A flower?
Whosoever’s body is flush with the world is a god.
Where water pools in the shade your reflection trembles.
The woman on the balcony, you imagine her from yesterday.
Vines spill from banister to cement and you swear
the baby’s eyelashes are silk, the river
tons of effluvia at once.
If anything, the soul is a series of invisible arches, mass
without weight, the smallest sense of moon-colored fortitude.
A ladder reaches the roof and keeps going.
The woman, she believes she is bread.
You too believe you are bread, that if anything
the flower is born inside out.
In the mind wild grasses pant and fold.
The broken colloquy of a hammer, thirst of trees
in your blood. The blue thread
you ease from your shirt to stitch air to air.
* from Gross Ardor, 42 Miles Press, 2013, just released.
Critics on Bill Rasmovicz’s first book, published by Alice James Books:
“Bill Rasmovicz gives us the world in fine detail. City life, shoreline, night, loss and its shadow, desire—these come to us through an intelligence fully attuned to metaphor’s striking shifts from sight to insight. This is lyric poetry at its best, fully accomplished, probing, deeply felt, with delicate wit and language—oh the language!—stunning enough to pass Miss Dickinson’s test.”
“The clear intensity of the visionary requires stillness, not high speeds. And there is a restlessness at the heart of such stillness that Bill Rasmovicz’s first book gets at more exquisitely—with a voice that can bear it—than any I’ve read in years. His surreal practices are humanizing faith-keepings with the metamorphic, the elemental, the actual.”