“Its Day Being Gone,” a book by alumna Rose McLarney (poetry, ’10), was one of five books selected as winners of the National Poetry Series’ Open Competition. Her manuscript, chosen by Robert Wrigley, will be published in the summer of 2014 by Penguin Books.
For more information, and to read about the winners, check the National Poetry Series website.Read More
A new story by alumna Peg Alford Pursell (fiction, ’96) appears online at The Quotable:
When I was a child, Day of the Dead meant sugar skulls, staying up past midnight, marigolds, burning copal, blazing votives. I didn’t recognize any of the faces in the photographs on the altar. Now I have my own dead – and no sweet bread, hot wax, or tequila to lure them, no fancy papel picado. The dead come anyway, in fragments, perforated memories. My grandmother wearing a man’s fedora, a secret greeting card folded into her dress pocket. My grandfather, who burnedbasura in his basement fireplace, sending obscene odors throughout the neighborhood, whose last act was to eat a bowl of strawberry ice cream in the middle of the night. The crush I smoked pot with behind the brick chimney in the attic of his parents’ home, wrapped up with me in his sleeping bag. He confessed he had no plan for after graduation, and he laughed, and he never needed the plan. The stillborn girl who looked like a baby bird with bulging eyes curled in a nest under the acacia. The man I’d once thought was the one who wasn’t and whom I couldn’t live with once I understood that, who on a tear of amphetamines put a gun to his head.
Finish reading online.
A new story by alumna Elisabeth Hamilton appears in Necessary Fiction:
Boys, you notice, have perfect hair. It sticks up in just the right way — after a swim meet, after a soccer match, after changing their shirts. You think their hair is the best thing about them, even when they wrestle, finding a thing they want in someone’s hand — a box of matches, a basketball, a trading card — and pounce, scrap, pull, scuffle, roll. They pant. They come up triumphant, object between fingers, gasping for air, hair-perfect, and then they are pulled down again, shoving bodies into carpet, into turf, elbows in ribs and hands around ankles and cheeks pressed against chests, smelling of sweat, the taste of a sweet briny palm as it shoves a face into mud. The only thing you want that badly is a body that does not fold and grow soft, that could put holes in sheetrock, that could bounce off of walls. On TV, you watch street dancers who use their bodies like skateboards or boomerangs, who flip and turn and curl, and you, in the mirror in the bathroom, grow breasts.Read More
New work by faculty members C. Dale Young, Debra Allbery, and Charles Baxter appear in the Winter 2014 Issue of The Kenyon Review.
Young’s poem “Wrestling with the Angel” is published online:
—after Léon Bonnat
First off, the wings were too perfect.
Second, that the angel is both pushing the man
with his left hand while embracing him with his right,
the angel’s right leg stretching away from the man while
the left one is anchored and wrapped between
New poems by alumna Glenis Redmond (poetry, ’11) appear online in the journal When Women Waken:
There’s no circle
that can bear this load,
not the moon of my mama’s face,
or the circumference arms
that were supposed to fit around me for life.
In this loss I am alone.
Continue reading here.
I Lost the Baby
Not as in couldn’t find, but as in perished.
I lost my child
and still I was in search.
He found me, in my bed busy dreaming.
I lost my child:
blond hair, hazel eyes, skin really fair.
He found me in my bed, busy dreaming.
He kissed me awake, though I was still asleep.
Blond hair, hazel eyes, skin really fair
shining like a familiar son.
He kissed me awake, though I was still asleep
saying, I will tell Amber and Celeste there’s no school, snow!
Continue reading here.Read More
A new piece by alumnus Matthew Muller (fiction, ’10) appears online in the Lowestoft Chronicle:
Back in a Minute
We lived at the bottom of Spencer’s Butte in Eugene, and sometimes, on weekends, we climbed to the top. My mother told us to listen for rattlesnakes that she said lived on the mountain, in case they were coming near the path. The whole darkness of the underbrush seemed about to rattle. The enormous trunks of the evergreens rose out of the inclines below us to a ceiling of branches and leaves above. In this green darkness, my father started talking about the cafe he would open if he ever had the money and wasn’t a poor teacher.
A new poem by alumnus Jeremy Bass (poetry, ’10) appears online in Vinyl Poetry:
Will rain fall we don’t know
only a few drops seem willing to answer.
High clouds the hulls of unseen ships
parked their dented blue enamel over our heads
each rib of cloud an arched gunnel
longer than the highway we drove on
Continue reading at Vinyl Poetry.Read More
A new poem by alumnus Tommye Blount (poetry, ’13) appears in Vinyl Poetry:
I. Willi Ninja, Mother of the House of Ninja
Bitch, give me a body
and I will show you how it works.
Break it down
like the math of my hands—
have you seen my hands?—
first, a blade, then a compact,
now, a mirror. What you see
is a legend on the map.
Continue reading at Vinyl Poetry online.Read More
Applications are now being accepted for the 2014/2015 Joan Beebe Graduate Teaching Fellowship. The Fellowship offers a graduate of the MFA Program for Writers a one-year, non-renewable teaching position in the undergraduate Creative Writing program at Warren Wilson College. The Beebe Fellowship is available to all Warren Wilson MFA alumni, including those who received the degree during the years the program was at Goddard College. Some teaching experience is required. This year’s Beebe Fellow will have a concentration in fiction, although a facility with multiple genres is most beneficial for the program.
Full guidelines are available at http://www.wwcmfa.org/alumni/fellowship-opportunities/beebe-fellowship/. The deadline is February 1, 2014.Read More
A new interview with faculty member Ellen Bryant Voigt, “discussing her new collection and the poetic process behind it,” appears online at The Rumpus:
The Rumpus: This is your first poetry book after your collected poems, surely a moment of self-reckoning. And yet, Headwaters: the source of a river, the flow of a mind—the poems are so fresh and unleashed. What surprised you most when you started writing them?
Ellen Bryant Voigt: I think their tolerance of a certain kind of excess, particularly their double-stitching, that amount of direct repetition. It’s borne, perhaps, from recognition of impermanence, rather the opposite of chiseling a poem into stone—and unlike the chisel, it allows faster, multiple shifts of tone, redirections, mid-course corrections.Read More