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Nazim Hikmet, Walt Whitman & Individuals

Walt Whitman begins Leaves of Grass (deathbed edition) with:

One’s-Self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.

Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far
The Female equally with the Male I sing.

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form’d under the laws divine,
The Modern Man I sing.

Nazim Hikmet begins his epic poem, Human Landscapes from my Country, with:

Haydar Pasha Station,
spring 1941,
********3 p.m.
On the steps, sun
****************fatigue
**********************and confusion.

A man
*****stops on the steps,
********thinking about something.
Thin.
Scared.
His nose is long and pointed,
and his cheeks are pockmarked.
The man on the steps,
*********Master Galip,
***************is famous for thinking strange thoughts:

Over the past year, year and a half, I have been spending a good amount of my energies reading up on Turkish literature and Turkish history.  During the course of all this reading the thought has kept arising of the parallel between the US and Turkey.  Now, as with any connection of this sort, the differences far outweigh any similarities.  But I think the similarities are kind of interesting.  So now to oversimplify both US and Turkish history…

First is the origin of the US and Turkey.  The US was a secular nation that came out of a highly religious background; an early European culture moving (the government at least) away from the church.  Turkey, likewise, is the first major Muslim country to become secular at the governmental level.  Both countries have, ever since, dealt with the many complications and difficulties that arise from this decision to attempt a move towards secularity.  Second is the founding father mythos.  We have George Washington–the great general who fought off the British and became the first President.  Turkey has Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, who fought off the occupying forces after World War I and became the first President.  These are two countries that identify (though still in a tug-of-war for both) with an ideal of secularity, that arose out of a fight for their own existence via expulsion, and consider a single figure as being the ‘father’ of the nation.

Now, let me start moving towards literature and poetry.  Both America and Turkey come out of a rich literary history, but a history that both countries have also been separated from.  Though British literature is connected to American history, there is also an otherness that we don’t identify with in the same way as a Brit.  For Turkey, that literary history is Ottoman literature.  Since the fall of the Ottoman Empire, Turkey has changed to the Latin alphabet and become a secular country.  I am not knowledgeable enough to know the extent to which Ottoman literature has been disconnected, but from everything I’ve read there is a noticeable disconnect.

Both America and Turkey have poets that are, rightly or wrongly, considered the father-poet.  What makes them this type of figure?  Both Whitman and Hikmet took it upon themselves, at least to some extent, to define specifically what it is to be an American or a Turk, respectively.  In both Whitman and Hikmet the idea of the individual becomes a primary focus.  But how each poet deals with it is distinctly different.

So let’s go back to the Whitman opening.  In these lines, and throughout Leaves of Grass, Whitman salutes the individual, the “I”.  A “simple separate person” he claims.  Except, other than Abraham Lincoln, there is almost never an individual mentioned, much less named.  He might in a way gesture towards an actual individual:

The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market,
I loiter injoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.

That seems like the creation of an individual.  Except something is missing.  This isn’t one specific butcher-boy.  It is any butcher-boy.  It is the archetype of a butcher-boy.  Whitman includes no identifying characteristics, nothing that actually individuates this specific butcher-boy from any other butcher-boy anywhere else.  An odd paradox begins to form, which becomes in Whitman a dialectic between the individual and the “en-masse”.  This makes sense, in its own way, as a dealing with the paradox of democracy itself.  But the individual in Whitman has very few individual markers.  The individual, despite the supposed focus of “One’s Self I sing”, is quickly secondary to the union, as we see no individuals in any individual way.

How does Hikmet deal with the individual?  Instead of creating the individual and immediately subsuming the individual into the group, instead of dealing with generalities and imprecise terms, Hikmet begins by naming a specific train station, a specific time, a specific train, and most importantly he names the first person who is seen.  There is no group that the individuals completely identify with in Hikmet’s poem.  There are a number of individuals who relate in different ways with the Turkish government–there are rich and educated, lower class service workers, peasants, and prisoners all included, with their various perspectives on their surrounding worlds acknowledged.  Master Galip is not only named, he is specifically defined as a unique individual: he has a long nose, pockmarks on his cheek, is at this precise moment sitting on the steps, and moreover is known “for thinking strange thoughts.”  The subsequent 30 or so lines give Galip’s life history from his birth up to the specific moment, 3 p.m., that the poem begins.

In Hikmet’s poem, characters continuously are introduced and almost without fail are described until they become a sharpened individual, distinct, with edges.  What comes of this difference?  The passage in time and history likely accounts for some of it.  It is more difficult to write the largely hopeful poetry of Whitman after World War I and II.  Hikmet also had a much different relationship with his country than Whitman did.  Whereas Whitman was, though controversial, at the least an accepted citizen, Hikmet was forced into exile due to his socialist leanings.  He is writing of Turkey and Turkishness as one who is not allowed to be Turkish any more.

The difference in political leanings I think might be at least partially a source of this difference.  Democracy is in the power of the multitude specifically as one.  There is the assumption that the end result is towards a singular unity.  Communism/socialism also focuses on the group and on the many, but it is of the many as many, not as one.  There is, of course, still the unity of the nation, but that unity doesn’t seem as tied to the idea of everyone seeing themselves.  Democracy does not make the claim for everyone as being truly equal–just receiving equal rights and opportunities.  Communism, to a greater degree at least, makes the claim that everything should be equal (or more equal) and equivalent.  The process of individuating, in that theoretical democratic environment, can be through what you are, not who you are–the butcher-boy, for instance.  The details of the individual as a human, though, are necessary to differentiate the individual in a socialist frame of mind.  Socialism encourages, or at least can encourage, the desire to see each individual as an individual in order to give the formerly dispossessed the belief that they are the same through their individuality as those who hold power.

I’m not sure to what extend my argument works, as communist states seem to be the ones that tend towards a rhetoric of group-as-individual, whereas America and many other democratic nations have embraced the individual to an extreme degree…But that would be assuming that Whitman and Hikmet were seers, not poets responding to their local.  And I’m not entirely sure that my cribbing of democratic and socialist perspectives are entirely accurate.  But it is all just a thought experiment, a comparative discussion (I wouldn’t even go so far as to call this an analysis…)

I don’t mean, then, to in any way compare the two as if they are writing from the same place.  This quandary has always been a difficulty with comparative analysis, I think.  There is no justification that could be considered, well, justifiable.  A study of this sort is inherently purposeless except, perhaps, in a better understanding of each body of work in their own individuality.  I had not realized the absolute lack of individuality in Whitman until I looked at him in comparison to Hikmet.  The buzz-words of Whitman’s individualism had veiled how little he really constructs an individual in an individual manner.

The American poet, actually, now that I think about it that in some ways Hikmet might seem more akin to is Frank O’Hara, a complete insistence on the particular surroundings, on naming, specifying, and individuating…I think that it is interesting how looking at American poetry after especially William Carlos Williams, such as the work of the New York School poets, many of these same ideas of viewing the individual crop up.  That comparison from the similar time-periods would probably be rather productive as well…

Filed under: Poetry , , , , , , ,

Nurduran Duman Translation

I have been working on translating a set of Nurduran Duman poems from the Turkish to the English after I discovered her on the Omnidawn Blog.  My first semi-completed translation (there are still a few lines I’m not happy with) Nurduran apparently enjoyed enough to have my translation of the poem “Resim” put up at a blog called Internation Musing.  It is the same poem that was translated at the Omnidawn Blog.  My version isn’t a huge divergence or anything I don’t think, but I did make a few different choices.

Filed under: Poetry , , , , ,

Recently Received

A few more things have come in over the last week and a bit.  Anyone who is interested in knowing more about Pat Nolan’s book, please email me for info.

from Center for the Art of Translation:

Margaret Jull Costa & Marilyn Hacker (ed.)::Wherever I Lie Is Your Bed

from Milkweed:

Marilyn Chin::The Phoenix Gone, The Terrace Empty

from editions de jacob:

Pat Nolan::Intellectual Pretensions

from Octopus Books:

Matvei Yankelevich::Boris by the Sea

Heather Christle::The Difficult Farm

Disclaimer: All the above books were provided as advance reader copies by the publishers and/or authors.

Filed under: Poetry, Publishing , , , , ,

October Reading Update

This month turned out to be relatively successful.  Finally finishing up the Mariani biography of Williams was a big weight off me.  Though the book itself was rather captivating and informative, it was difficult to juggle putting in consistent effort reading such a large tome while also keeping my teaching and studying duties taken care of.  Over the course of the month the only book I specifically discussed was Molly Bendall’s most recent book here.  Though a month earlier I discussed an odd connection between Williams and Pynchon here.  I am planning on discussing the Taransky book in the near future.  And I’m assuming Dijkstra will come into play in some future thoughts on Williams.  But this post is not focused on tomorrow; it is focused on yesterday.  And so here is what I made it through during October:

Bram Dijkstra::Cubism, Stieglitz, and the Early Poetry of William Carlos Williams
Claudia Rankine::Don’t Let Me Be Lonely
Michelle Taransky::Barn Burned, Then
Paul Mariani::William Carlos Williams: A New World Naked
Will Alexander::The Sri Lankan Loxodrome
Alice Notley::Mysteries of Small Houses
Molly Bendall::Under the Quick
Laura Walker::rimertown
Susan Howe::Frame Structures
Richard Greenfield::Tracer

Filed under: Poetry, Theory , , , , ,

Frontal Lobe Foodcart on American Hybrid

A relatively new poetry blog (I think…) Frontal Lobe Foodcart linked to me in a discussion of American Hybrid:

So ok, obviously the debate is about canonization, it’s about the need to make and sell anthologies because people need to know what progress is within language, and it needs to be relayed to them in theories; ok, this I have gathered after frequenting the Debate and its eccentricities on a number of blogs (exoskeletonacompulsivereader; ). After bouncing within the limits of the arguments surrounding this attempt at codification, I will admit to feeling frustration raise itself up within me, but also fascination. What is this we are able to witness in real time, this little disagreement that, around itself, has called into life this little territory which ‘takes place’ completely beyond the bounds and outside of the book which perhaps made it necessary. Ok that sounds a little too postmodern-ey formulated like that, and so here I willl make it chewable and bite size: 1) a book has a finite limit, it can only fit a certain number of poets, regardless of how Bible-thin the pages happen to be; 2) there was an unprecedented proliferation in poetry after about 1970 into a greater and greater diversity of styles, an exponential increase that continues still 3) the internet is indefinite, never needs to be printed, and, as such, can publish an indefinite number of poets all writing in idioms derived willy nilly from God-only-knows-where 4) the blogging community debating about the book online is hilarious for these reasons, because they simultaneously supersede and look jealously back upon it, as though it really were in a better position than they.

Unfortunately (I think) the rest of the post focuses on a semi-dialogue with exoskeleton and an eventual perusal of Silliman’s and Abramson’s thoughts/blogs and kind of lets me fall by the wayside.  I’m just curious, a bit, what the author’s response to my thoughts were…

The FLF post did, at the least, introduce me to the following video that simply cannot be missed:

I also found the following quote from Giorgio Agamben that the author (I can’t figure out who is writing the blog…) comes to after a lengthy chewing over the idea of Quietism particularly interesting:

from Giorgio Agamben’s lecture on Youtube about paradigms: “Feuerback once wrote that the philosophical element in each work is its Entvicklungsfahigkeit, literally, its capability to be developed. If a work, be it a work of science or art or scholarship has some value, it will contain this philosophical element. It is something which remains unsaid within the work but which demands to be unfolded and worked out.”

Which leads FLF to the following conclusion:

So that is the opposition I am fielding, up in the air/developing vs finished and developed. Perhaps the most ‘ethical’ way to use a theory is to keep its limits in the foreground, to maim it as one uses it and thus keep it open for others, it becomes open source. On the other hand, the most strategic way to argue is to close up the terms, to be secretive and to deploy certainties (which are closed off by nature) as a sort of bludgeoning instrument.

I shall be considering this ‘open’ vs. ‘closed’ thing a bit now.  I think FLF is onto something here–is the theory meant to be a productive element, generating new forms of poetry; or is it a barrier meant to protect already existing poetries?

Filed under: Poetry, Theory , , , , , , ,

Open Letter Sale

Following on the heels of the UC Press, Archipelago, and Salt sales, Open Letter Press, which focuses on literature in translation, has offered the following pretty impressive deal:

The other week we launched an awesomely great deal with a catchy name: 2 for $22. The deal is this:
Choose any 2 books for $22 flat (not even shipping, if you’re in the U.S.). In addition, and you’ll be automatically entered to win a free subscription to a full year of Open Letter titles (or, if you’re already a subscriber, you could get your current subscription extended for an additional free year). So, that’s a potential of 12 beautiful books for $22. Not bad.

Over the past week or so, we’ve heard from a bunch of you that the ordering page was causing them problems, so we pulled it down until we could get it all worked out . . . This brings me to today: It’s all worked out!

You can go here to check it out and maybe pick some books and enter the free subscription drawing.

By the way, this offer is only open until Nov. 15 . . .

Open Letter has a number of remarkable books.  I previously reviewed Ričardas Gavelis::Vilnius Poker, a rather remarkable work.  Of the books in the promotion, Merce Rodoreda::Death in Spring is the next on my list.  Though many others are worth picking up from what I’ve heard.  As an added incentive, everyone who takes advantage of the sale gets automatically entered in a full subscription sweepstakes.  Some of the best lit-in-translation out there with some pretty attractive covers.  Tough to beat.

Filed under: Prose, Publishing , , , , , , , , , ,

Kenyon Review Discusses Online Offline

I stumbled across the following on NewPages Blog yesterday:

In the Fall 2009 issue of The Kenyon Review, Editor David H. Lynn takes on the issue of “Print vs. Internet: An Ongoing Conversion” in his consideration of where to submit his most recent story – to a print publication or to an online publication. Of course, the fact KR has started its own online edition – KRO – is thrown into the mix, as well as a status check on the professional perception of online publications.

Lynn is troubled by knowing that “Some writers…especially those who have passed through the opening thresholds of their careers, already have a book or two but have not yet been tenured or feel professionally secure, might not even submit their work to us any longer. They worry that if we chose a poem or story for Internet publication instead of print, they wouldn’t want to have to decline the offer and risk offending.”

My first level of amusement at this little situation is that David Lynn, the Kenyon Review editor, is discussing the reticence of authors to having their work placed online because it might be lesser.  Yet Lynn himself, when discussing online versus print, does not make his essay available online.  And the Kenyon Review has a legitimate online presence.  Oh well, it allows him to avoid any chance at becoming the object of attention in the online world.

I can’t decide if I think Lynn is wrong or not.  I am absolutely certain that his claim is based upon actual experiences as editor of KR.  I would assume that there are still a number of poets out there who are reticent to show up online, as if it is somehow ‘less good.’

But I still would tend towards the ’some writers’ he refers to as being the minority or at the least not an overwhelming majority.  I will just use my experience with The Offending Adam as a counter.  We are still sifting through submissions, but we have received submissions from poets in all stages of their careers–with 4+ books, with no books, with tenure-track faculty appointment, with part-time bookstore employment.  We don’t have a Pulitzer Prize winner, currently, but a Pulitzer Prize winner, according to Lynn’s criteria, would not hesitate to have work appear online because that person has most certainly achieved ‘professionally secure’ status.

Most of the responses we have gotten have been channeling an excitement that I believe is burgeoning in the online poetry community–an access to the reader, an ability to be read.  It would be a bit much to presume that this will be the case, but I would not be surprised if the poems we ‘print’ at TOA receive more readers than a poem printed in KR (I’m referring only to the print edition, not the online edition–which is different content typically it seems).  Why?  Well, you don’t have to pay for TOA.  You don’t have to either subscribe or call around to every bookstore in town seeing who carries it.  You don’t have to go to the library and hope that the budget cuts didn’t affect the literary journals.  Oh, and we have Google.  I am certain that many existing online journals have noticed this.  Their archives are probably continually accessed, not just accessed by students in libraries sent on an assignment.  (Note: I have nothing against KR.  I have never submitted work there.  I have read it and enjoyed it and think that they publish some really great stuff.  The poems from Mark Irwin they currently have in their are wonderful, for instance.  KR is just being used as one example out there.)

So this odd paradox seems to be forming, and one that I think is slowly turning writers to the online world.  Being in the KR print edition is a ‘better’ publication than really any online journal.  It looks good on the resume.  It looks good on fellowship applications.  The NEA Fellowship, for instance, has a ceiling of 50% of your existing publications online in your portfolio.  But unless you get that poem or story in a book, it has not really been read.  And isn’t that the point?  To be read?  And I think that being read is opening doors for people.  Well, maybe not opening doors.  Maybe what is happening is new doors are being created that are catering to the writer who would rather be read: Blazevox, Octopus, &c.  But even at this little blog, I’ve noticed how it has opened doors.  I get emails from poets, professors, translators, publishers, casual readers, serious readers, &c.  I sit and wonder sometimes, first, how they came across this site and, second, why they would take the time to contact me based on the content of this site.  I can’t answer either question (well, the first is oftentimes Google), but regardless of the answer people are out their trolling and looking.  People are looking.

But isn’t that kind of what happens constantly?  New generations come up, see that they are shut out of what the old generation has spent their life building, and so creates their own new outlets?  Isn’t that how Poetry got started?  I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that KR’s origin story has some of these elements.  So, David Lynn, I encourage you to not care about those poets who are ‘afraid’ of being put in your online edition.  Those are poets who, I suspect, have at least partially lost track of why they are writing poetry.  It isn’t to get a tenure-track job (though that can be a nice perk if you are lucky to secure it).  It is to be read.  And if they don’t want to be read, well, then let’em not be read.  We probably don’t want to read them.

As an exit note, I just finished Paul Mariani’s bio of William Carlos Williams last night and I think the following is appropriate:

Williams sent that poem to Laughlin on April 15 and, as he had all his life, went on to the next poem while the ecstasy of creation was still upon him.  This time, however, the letters and the words absolutely refused to cohere on the page.  He kept trying over and over, returning each morning to his typewriter while the anxiety mounted, determined to lay his meaning on the new white sheet in front of him.  Week followed week, yet he could get nowhere, as Floss could see when she went up to check on him.  Page after page, discarded, lay there crumpled on the floor.  She could not understand what her husband was trying to communicate, nor could Williams any longer tell her what it was he wanted to say.  His blurred eyes looked hopelessly up at her, and then he became frenzied.  Floss tried to calm him down, to tell him that his poem would come.  No use.  He signaled for her to leave him alone and feebly pushed her protesting aside; he even threw some things around the room before going back exhausted to the machine.  He would do it or he would die trying.  There was nothing for it, then, but to let him work before demanding that he rest.  For six weeks Williams kept at it, Floss downstairs anxiously listening for the familiar click of the typewriter, though the dance of the keys was decidedly more erratic now.

Filed under: Poetry, Publishing , , , , , , , , , , ,

Under the Quick

Bendall Under the Quick

Last week while reading Molly Bendall’s most recent book, Under the Quick from Parlor Press/Free Verse Editions, I came across the following poem that opens the second section:

“Windward: heel, tread a bank

Blow on it
see if it clears.
An arrowhead, musket ball.
He dreams of
the settling.
Suit up
in the mend,
a hum near the stitch.
We dug
up a bottle shard,
and his lone
office. At the heels
of a slow book,
I follow,
the hurt’s never
gauzy. Can you see
in her pockets
for an odd
game,
a riddle next?

In her previous book, Ariadne’s Island, what I was most immediately struck by were her line breaks.  The opening section of Under the Quick, “Causes and Cures”, similarly produces lines that are simultaneously windblown across the page and elastically whipping with a tension that pulls the end of the line violently into the next, such as the opening of the collection from “Reminds Me of Panic”:

******Push me in, let me
arrive at the late scene
**********heaving the furniture, tossing

an episode with knobs and feet

The indentations do not follow a rigid pattern and the number of lines in a stanza varies.  This seeming randomness at least at first glance on the page resembles words that have blown onto the page by natural occurrence.  Their arrangement resembles leaves on the ground of a park in fall–perfectly placed yet utterly random.  Bendall’s words and letters are not arranged on the page; they exist on the page precisely where they are supposed to exist.

That naturalness and windblown quality suggest that the lines of verse themselves would tend towards a quiet poetics, with any intensity spread out thinly across the surface of the poems.  When one begins to really read the poems, the elasticity of the linebreaks and the intensity they add to the poems immediately negates that initial thought.  Going back to the first four lines of “Reminds Me of Panic” one notices the subtle near-rhyme of a long-e that ends each line, along with the two additional long-e’s in ‘heaving’.

The meter of the opening line sets a forceful mood, with a possible four stressed syllables out of five (PUSH me IN, LET ME).  These words are not leaves blowing in the wind; these words pulse with immediate and intense purpose.  Only two words (furniture and episode) have more than two syllables, and of the twenty words, fifteen are one syllable words.  Of the twenty-seven syllables, thirteen are stressed.  This intensity of meter and rhythm pairs with the intensity of the content–the collection of poems begins with the narrator being shoved into the poem.  What can be a more sudden entry?  This is followed by a hurrying–arrive at the late scene–and then furniture being tossed around the room.  It is an opening of disruption, of confusion, of eruption.

Bendall’s poetry has been connected to her childhood training in ballet.  While I tend to avoid such connections, which I think are highly arbitrary and usually used when actual discussion of the poems is proving challenging as an easy crutch, I cannot deny that when looking at these lines the comparison is apt.  Ballet is a highly unnatural, posed, and artificial art whose goal is to present a naturalness of the human body and its relation to the world around it (or one could discuss ballet in these terms).  It is an odd amalgamation of pure natural and pure artifice, placed on a theatrical stage underneath electrical lights.  This combination, or perhaps contiguity, of natural and artifice is I think possibly what Bendall means by the phrase Under the Quick.  But let’s return to the poem I opened this post with and then immediately abandoned.  The poems in this second section are skinny columns, a stark departure from the fluid margins of the first and last sections, and a semi-departure from the more fluid third section that moves between couplets and independent lines.  How does this second section fit with these others?  It appears staid by comparison, the remaining intact Roman arch amongst the evocative ruins.  Yet the section’s title is “Windward”, gesturing back towards the naturalness that informs the form of the other sections.

heel, tread a bank” begins with an imperative “Blow on it” followed by a second imperative that begins to crack its authority “see if it clears.”  That ‘if’ destabilizes the knowledge of the narrator, places the narrator firmly and explicitly within the present moment only.  As the poem progresses, we move from these imperatives to the plural first person “We dug / up a bottle shard” then to the other surpassing the narrator “I follow” and finally to a question “Can you see / in her pockets / for an odd / game, / a riddle next?”  The contiguity of natural and artifice arises in a different manner in this poem.  Rather than a form vs. function, the content of the poem itself begins with artifice–the presumption of explicit knowledge–and ends with an unknowing of the world, a desire simply to see, for someone to see–”Can you see…?”

Disclosure: Under the Quick was provided by the author as an advance copy.

Filed under: Poetry , , , , ,

JH & AZ On Tour

Filed under: Poetry , , ,

Submissions Closed

A few days late, but I wanted to send a belated thank you to all of those who submitted for the launch of The Offending Adam.  I and the rest of the editorial board are in the midst of sifting through everything.  For those who submitted, all four of us are giving each submission a separate and blind reading.  We will be responding soon.

Though our submissions for “New Writing” has closed, anyone still hanging onto an essay or book review, please do contact us.

As I have said over and over lately, we are immeasurably excited by the submissions we have received so far and the acceptances we have been able to offer.  It is too bad that there is still a gap of time before we get to start rolling everything out.

So, again, thank you for all the submissions and support for this new venture.  As we get closer to the official launch, I will continue to announce any and all pertinent updates.

Filed under: Poetry, Publishing ,

Currently Reading

Nazim Hikmet::Human Landscapes from My Country // Juan Goytisolo::Juan the Landless // Thomas Pynchon::V.

Ten Just Finished

Electric Literature::No. 2 // Claudia Keelan::Missing Her // Matvei Yankelevich::Boris by the Sea // Heather Christle::The Difficult Farm // Bram Dijkstra::Cubism, Stieglitz, and the Early Poetry of William Carlos Williams // Claudia Rankine::Don't Let Me Be Lonely // Michelle Taransky::Barn Burned, Then // Paul Mariani::William Carlos Williams: A New World Naked // Will Alexander::The Sri Lankan Loxodrome // Alice Notley::Mysteries of Small Houses

Ten on Deck

Dan Beachy-Quick::The Whaler's Dictionary // Yashar Kemal::Memed, My Hawk // G.C. Waldrep::Archicembalo // Gabriel Gudding::Rhode Island Notebook // Blaise Cendrars::Complete Poems // Gillian Conoley::The Plot Genie // Derek Attridge::The Singularity of Literature // John Wieners::707 Scott Street // Pat Nolan::Intellectual Pretensions // Bin Ramke::Theory of Mind: New & Selected Poems

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