The Soirée for Scholarships

 

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!!!!

For supporting the Soirée for Scholarships.  It was a GREAT PARTY!

If you missed it and would like to contribute to supporting our students, please donate here: http://friendsofwriters.org/donate/

 

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FOW Board Member Geoff Kronik and MFA Program Director Deb Allbery at the Soiree for Scholarships

“The Charm” by Maeve Kinkead

Posted by on Feb 8, 2016 in Alumni News | 0 comments

A poem by alum Maeve Kinkead (poetry, ’08) appears at the The Cortland Review:

Dissolve two tablets in a jelly glass of tap water.
Bring it to your Daddy rumbling the music
of Borborygmi in his maroon wing chair.
Turn the dial on the Zenith radio—no more
reports from Korea and Pork Chop Hill.

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Three poems by Rosalynde Vas Dias

Posted by on Feb 7, 2016 in Alumni News | 0 comments

Three poems by alum Rosalynde Vas Dias (poetry, ’06) appear in Hobart:

Learn a Story

I was so jealous when I heard on the radio

about computers watching movies, putting it all together

like Eve eating knowledge. Imagine a computer

plodding through it’s first dim conception of human

emotion, narrative arc, as if it were a horse driving a mill,

plodding, moving, an organic thing and a mechanism.

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PBS NewsHour profiles Reginald Dwayne Betts

Posted by on Feb 6, 2016 in Alumni News | 0 comments

Alum Reginald Dwayne Betts (poetry, ’10) is profiled in this 7-minute video story from PBS NewsHour:

An Interview with Shadab Zeest Hashmi and Alicia Jo Rabins

Posted by on Feb 5, 2016 in Alumni News | 0 comments

An interview with alums Shadab Zeest Hashmi (poetry, ’09) and Alicia Jo Rabins (poetry, ’09) appears on  the San Diego Writers, Ink website:

How does a poem come to you?

Shadab: Poetry casts its net when the unsayable offers itself, often triggered by a collision between a sensory moment and a feeling. It animates the abstract by appearing as a fine gradation of color, sound or scent, a sensation counterpoised against a memory. A poem comes to me as a sudden, partial illumination of the unanswered, perhaps the unanswerable, as experienced in music, or visual images of both the monumental and the intimate. A poem seeks to make its own lexicon, to attempt to define and describe the world as seen through the psyche’s filter.

Alicia: I think I once read a poet who said, when asked about his writing process, that there is always a poem floating past just over his head and he just snips both ends and brings it down. I’ve never been able to find that quote again, but I’ve often thought about it because it so exactly describes my experience of writing. It’s about sitting down to write and dipping into an existing stream.
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“All of the stones all at the same time” by Kevin McIlvoy

Posted by on Feb 4, 2016 in Faculty Updates | 0 comments

“All of the stones all at the same time” by Kevin McIlvoy

A story by faculty member Kevin McIlvoy appears at New World Writing:

The client scratched at paste clot­ted in his hair.

The client was in a car. The client’s car was in a car space
between newly painted golden lines.

A sign: Mini Bob’s Mart.

We are quite lost,” said Deer Food.

The client asked, “Isn’t this Mini Bob’s Mart?”

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“The Change” by Jennifer Givhan

Posted by on Feb 3, 2016 in Alumni News | 0 comments

A poem by alum Jennifer Givhan (poetry, ’15) appears in Hermeneutic Chaos Journal, where it was a finalist for the Jane Lumley Prize ’15:

When I was still small I began growing antlers
as a stag grows antlers, as a girl grows
breasts. My chest remained flat & the blood
didn’t come, but the velvet skin
sprang spongy behind my temples. No one at school
laughed at the antlers like they did when I’d grown
hair under my arms & razor-scraped my shins

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“Cancer (& Other Unforgivable Curses)” by Michelle Collins Anderson

Posted by on Feb 2, 2016 in Alumni News | 0 comments

A story by alum Michelle Collins Anderson (fiction, ’13) appears at Literal Latté:

I got the note in Esmé’s backpack this afternoon: her long black cape has become “a distraction to the class” and she is no longer welcome to wear it to school. There was no mention of the wand. It is difficult to be a wizard among “Muggles” — your average, run-of-the-mill human beings. Just as I am finding it difficult to be human when I would gladly summon magic or pray for miracles. Justin is with the hospice nurse now. She is checking his vital signs, making notes, checking the log of medications — the amounts, the times given — that I keep so meticulously, my letters curling around the white spaces of the chart. Soon she will bathe him, a sponge bath that will clean away the perspiration but will not erase the yellow of his skin. She will let me do the shampooing and the shaving: I insist. Justin was not — is not — a vain man, but he did love his hair. It is thick and black and edged with gray; he liked to keep it just the slightest bit long, which gave him the rumpled professor look I love. He is an artist, a painter, but made his living as the creative director at a local ad agency — overseeing all the words and images that go into ads and commercials and websites. He is what they call a “creative guru,” a “big idea” man: he sees forest, not trees; constellations rather than stars.

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“The Order of Things” by C. Dale Young

Posted by on Feb 1, 2016 in Faculty Updates | 0 comments

UnknownA short story by faculty member C. Dale Young appears at the Asian American Literary Review:

There were many things Alejandro Castillo did not know. For a start, he did not know his given name or the people who were his parents. In this, he was one who embraced mystery not because he had that special talent but because he had no choice. When Father Guillermo Rojas found him on the streets of that small town in Spain, the boy that became Alejandro Castillo could not even speak Spanish. He was dirty and wearing clothes that were filthy and torn. He spoke what people then believed was gibberish. Despite this, the boy had smart eyes, intelligent eyes, and a persistence in his demeanor. Father Guillermo Rojas took in the boy and raised him as his own child. Castillo, because the boy was sitting in front of the old mayor’s dilapidated house that the locals in their mean-spiritedness called “the castle,” and Alejandro, because Father Rojas had been reading a history of Pope Alexander VI. The boy looked like a gypsy, a gypsy who had been abandoned by gypsies. But Alejandro Castillo was, as Father Guillermo Rojas deduced, a clever child. He learned Spanish easily and spoke properly within a year. By the age of six, one would never have known Spanish wasn’t the boy’s original language.

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Three Poems by Justin Bigos

Posted by on Jan 31, 2016 in Alumni News | 0 comments

Three poems by alum Justin Bigos (poetry, ’08) appear in diode poetry journal:

Another Story About the Body

            after Robert Hass

The child keeps screaming in its highchair. The mother has examined its fingers, its fingernails, just beginning to form into something that can be called nails, the lips, mouth, tongue, back of the tongue, pink nub of tonsil, the child’s breath split pea soup and infant rage, or fear, the father thinks it’s fear, has looked around the kitchen for any sign of danger, black cat under the table, bear in the window, boogey man

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“The Other Self” by Mary Jo Thompson

Posted by on Jan 30, 2016 in Alumni News | 0 comments

A poem by alum Mary Jo Thompson (poetry, ’09) appears in The Missouri Review:

I was the one who kept on speaking
while the iron pole of winter
was stuck to her tongue.

I watched her pry at the dish of her mouth,
her fingers bent like tines.
The wind cuffed at her, helped her decide
to pull away.

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