Showing posts with label Odourless Press. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Odourless Press. Show all posts

Sunday, August 04, 2019

Ongoing notes: early August 2019


[a recently-constructed fort that took up both dining room and a corner of our living room]


Toronto ON: Bardia Sinaee’s Odourless Press hasn’t been active for a while now, so it was a great pleasure to hear that two new publications had released: Vincent Colistro’s MOUNTAIN FOUNTAIN FONT: A Poem (2019) and E. Martin Nolan’s Trees Hate Us (2019). Appearing three years after his full-length poetry debut, Late Victorians (Véhicule Press, 2016), Colistro’s MOUNTAIN FOUNTAIN FONT: A Poem is a curious extended piece, constructed exclusively as stretches of three-line stanzas:

I look up the Wikipedia entry for daffodil, which I didn’t know
was also called the Narcissus plant, but thinking about it

the flower does bow its head to a pool of rain.
I also read somewhere that there’s a hypnotist who can hypnotize
you into Christianity, and I wonder, if that’s the case,

can they hypnotize you into Don Mancini’s
1988 film Child’s Play? The horror movies I enjoy the most are
the ones that show you a tree-fringed suburb

of some medium-sized American city, where
the lone vowel heard at night is the vocal fry of leaves,
and ask “What’s wrong with this picture?”

The ebbs and flows of the poem are interesting, in a meandering kind of way. Where is Colistro going with this? He appears to compose this as a kind of catch-all, moving naturally and quickly from point to point, furthering along in a multitude of turns and directions. As his poem continues: “I don’t want to work too hard and connecting things, / but the dinosaurs were serial killed by an inexorable, / predatory stone and it doesn’t matter // that it didn’t have sentience.”

The Ash Over the Elora Quarry Is Totally Dead

Dead over the quarry like a muted trumpet.
Dead a whole year, so I’ve had time to practice.
Swimmers all day, moon off the water at night—
that was alright. Dead a year, but I hardly practice.
I’ve stood above this gorge, pretended I run this.
That game’s run its course—how long can I take this?

E. Martin Nolan’s chapbook, Trees Hate Us, appears some eighteen months after his own full-length debut, Still Point (Invisible, 2017), and is composed “in collaboration with some trees,” writing from the perspective of the killing of Ash trees throughout North America. His is an interesting take on the Anthropocene, writing to open his “Note on the text:” that: “The Emerald Ash Borer hasn’t a real predator here. Don’t blame it for doing what it does, for being in the crates humans ship across oceans. Killed 30 million in Michigan, where it was first found. It’ll kill clear to the ocean.” I can’t think of another writer composing from the perspective of ravaged plant or tree life. As the “Note on the text:” continues:

I have watched all of my kind die around me. Dying gives them the art of poetry. Foreknowledge of death opens their language so a human can hear it. One human. Immune, I am left alone like a city tree, to converse in prose among strange maples, birches, pines and firs reluctant to share speech with a member of so plagued a species. As I live out my natural days, these poems—at least the middle bit—will bring me some small contentment. And we may yet return. The trees’ story is long and slow, despite this lightning-fast shrapnel from the human timeline.

Milwaukee WI: I received a packet of really interesting small chapbooks from Milwaukee micro-publisher Adjunct Press [see their recent '12 or 20 (small press) questions' interview here], including Zoe Cohen’s Under The Sea (as part of their “Retail Labor Series,” 2018) and Jonny Lohr’s Peak 2018 Poems (2018), but the title that jumped out at me was Alice Ladrick’s don’t read this if you already want to die. (September 2016). Composed as a chapbook-length accumulation of dark fragments, I like the roughness of her work, crafted carefully in spots, and left ragged where appropriate; I would be curious to see where further of her work might take her. Edited, published and hand-sewn by Ladrick and Lohr, Adjunct’s chapbooks are both gracefully slick and rough-hewn, managing a delicate coarseness, and the poems themselves, a liveliness that is quite refreshing. As Ladrick’s chapbook reads:

sometimes a girl in your neighborhood
freezes to death in someone’s front yard
I’ve been thinking that freezing must
be better than drowning
less panic and more drowse—the cold
hurting at first, biting everywhere and then sinking
I’d think, maybe I’ll lie down for a minute in the snow
here, or maybe slip on an icy spot and just
            not get up again
wait for the snow to feel warm and fall asleep
bundle up a pillow cradle my head in it
they’d find me blue in the morning and beautiful
a gift left by the night and held by the frost (poetry)

just to lie down and not get up again

was that bleak, im sorry I thought everybody knew
death is what we’re working up to



Saturday, April 05, 2014

Suzannah Showler, Failure to Thrive



NOTES ON INTEGRITY

What if we stopped predicting the weather
and agreed to run it ragged?

To demonstrate: a dramatization
of a pigeon being hit by a car, except in this

instance, the pigeon wins. Once a month
it’s moving day. Walking home, you’ll notice

everyone is having a night in their lives.
Most people are now experts on design.

I’m pretty sure this guy I know is faking
imposter syndrome. But don’t we all

just want to stand, mostly upright,
in a stick figure forest of contemporaries?

At the very least, I’d like to make a name
for myself in the lost art of skywriting.

I was going to say something crucial.
But I forget what.

Toronto poet Suzannah Showler’s [see my recent Open Book: Ontario profile on her here] highly-anticipated first trade poetry collection is Failure to Thrive (Toronto ON: ECW Press, 2014), a collection of taut, polished and punchy lyrics. A finalist for the 2013 RBC Bronwen Wallace Award for Emerging Writers from the Writers’ Trust of Canada, Showler was included in The Walrus’ list of “the six best writers you’ve never heard of,” and, last spring, she released her first chapbook Sucks To Be You and other true taunts with Bardia Sinaee’s Odourless Press. Structured in five sections—Sensory Anchors, Museum Mouth, What You See Is What You Get, Some Crucial Element and Keen Frequencies—there is a precision to the poems in Failure to Thrive that one doesn’t often see in a first trade collection, and even her more conversational pieces are composed of cut and carved lines so tight that one could bounce a quarter off them. “Lowest was Jean’s preternatural warble, / spate of notes carrying a regatta of old-world curses / that strained, wood-stained, to reach us.” she writes, to open “THE WINDSOR ASYLUM” Her poems are culturally astute, highly aware of the margins and capable of intriguing cognitive twists, and establishing connections that didn’t previously exist. “The Great Wall of China / isn’t visible / from space.” she writes, in the poem “A SHORT HISTORY OF THE VISIBLE,” later writing:







Body scanners once used only in airports
become popular in bars.

This is what you see:
clothes haunting skin haunting
muscle haunting bone.

What you see is what you get.

When Showler opens the first poem in the sequence “SUCKS TO BE YOU AND OTHER TRUE TAUNTS” with “I have to say, strangers form great / cognitive maps.” it also opens a description of her writing as a whole, attempting to compose maps across a great range of source information to answer questions about how and why people act the way they do, and how and why the world, precisely, exists and acts the way it does. These are poems of experience and attention, as well as short essays on comprehension. And Showler is capable of deep attention, even within poems that might distract with her dark and quirky observations and humour. Her playful explorations are immediately clear simply through a list of poem titles, whether “PORTRAITS OF SEVERAL LAMPS BROKEN WHILE HOUSE-SITTING,” “CONFESSIONS FROM THE DRIVER OF THE GOOGLE STREET VIEW CAR,” “SOME FINAL EXPLANATORY THOUGHTS” and “A SHORT AND USEFUL GUIDE TO LIVING IN THE WORLD,” that ends with: “The trick is to try to live in Earth time / and keep the vigil of an orbit around anything. // Employ these and other strategies that prove useful. // Please write to me of your success.” These are poems far more interested in exploring the correct questions to ask, but ask they do, and demand at least some kind of response. One can’t help but respond.

THIRTEEN SUBCATEGORIES

found poem

Accidental deaths by location
Victims of aviation accidents or incidents
Accidental deaths from falls
Filmed accidental deaths
Firearm accident victims
Deaths by horse-riding accident
Hunting accident deaths
Industrial accident deaths
People who died in ATV accidents
Railroad accident victims
Space program fatalities
Deaths in sport


Tuesday, June 11, 2013

12 or 20 (small press) questions with Bardia Sinaee on Odourless Press

Odourless Press (www.odourless.ca) publishes hand-sewn poetry chapbooks as well as broadsides and pamphlets. This spring it published two chapbooks, Sucks To Be You and Other True Taunts by Suzannah Showler and Cloudpeople by Matthew Walsh and broadsides by Ben Ladouceur and Mat Laporte. Its first three pamphlets were published in fall 2011: Mutt by Ben Ladouceur, Back To My Old Self by Jeff Blackman and Royal Jelly by Bardia Sinaee. Odourless Press acknowledges financial support from the makers of AndroGel.

Bardia Sinaee's poetry has appeared in Arc, CV2, PRISM, The Puritan and The Walrus. He started Odourless Press in 2011. He works at the World's Biggest Bookstore in Toronto.

1 – When did Odourless Press first start? How have your original goals as a publisher shifted since you started, if at all? And what have you learned through the process?

In spring 2011, I started Odourless Press as a Wordpress page where I’d post other people’s poems that I liked and wanted to share. I started printing poetry (my own along with work by Jeff Blackman and Ben Ladouceur) that fall in the form of small folding pamphlets (50 cents each). After I took over for David O’Meara as one of the hosts of Literary Landscape, I used the Odourless Press blog to host podcasts of the radio shows.

The Odourless hiatus took up all of 2012 during which time I graduated by the skin of my teeth then moved back to Toronto (Etobicoke, with ma and pa, to be specific). When I got here I wanted to publish some of the writers I’d met but I thought I might wait a few years. However after Christmas my hours at work plummeted and I realized I’d probably never again in my life have so much unencumbered (rent-free) time to dedicate to editing, materializing and sharing other people’s poems, which was why I’d started Odourless in the first place.

2 – What first brought you to publishing?
In/Words Magazine and Press. That tiny office in Carleton University’s Dunton Tower with its printer, paper cutter, long-arm stapler and outdated Adobe software. The people, events and publications that continue to come out of that collective constitute (beyond a great community) a free, hands-on education in creative writing and publishing for anyone willing to put in the time. I learned to edit work at the writers’ circles. I learned to perform at the readings. I learned to design and publish in the office. I also learned to drink in all those places.

3 – What do you consider the role and responsibilities, if any, of small publishing?
As long as no one’s getting swindled or hurt, I don’t think small and micropublishing have any responsibilities but to explore their own freedom.

4 – What do you see your press doing that no one else is?

This early on, I don’t think there’s any one quality that’s exclusive to Odourless. In part because the micropresses I was inspired by, namely Apt. 9 and Ferno House, pay as much attention to design and binding as they do to the quality of writing, so it’s not like I’m picking up anybody’s slack.

If Odourless Press is able to keep publishing consistently beyond this year, I want to see how far I can take the practice of designing the material around the writing. Some poems call for a simple half-letter-sized book, others might be better served in an absurdly-long ten-panel fold-out pamphlet.

5 – What do you see as the most effective way to get new chapbooks out into the world?
Depends on the circumstances. In Toronto I’d say a launch. In Ottawa I’d probably hit up open mics and book fairs. In Iqaluit you might want to be sure you also make PDF copies available.

6 – How involved an editor are you? Do you dig deep into line edits, or do you prefer more of a light touch?

I want to be an involved editor, but this spring I was basically re-establishing the press while making the books, so it was all last-minute light touch stuff. I’d like to get an early start on the next two Odourless chapbooks though, which will be from Phoebe Wang and Mat Laporte, so maybe I’ll have more in-depth edits.

7 – How do your books get distributed? What are your usual print runs?
Launch. Book fairs. Authors’ own readings. I’m still setting up my Paypal merchant thingy, after I get back from the Ottawa small press fair you’ll be able to buy the chapbooks online.

Initial print runs are 50 copies. As of this writing, I’m about to do reprints of both spring chapbooks--I’m thinking 25 copies this time. After that I’ll make them available for print-on-demand till next spring when they’ll be officially out of print. Broadsides are limited editions of 50 copies. No reprints on those.

I might up the initial print runs for the fall chapbooks to 75 copies.

8 – How many other people are involved with editing or production? Do you work with other editors, and if so, how effective do you find it? What are the benefits, drawbacks?
I do it all, baby!

9 – How has being an editor/publisher changed the way you think about your own writing?
It hasn’t. What has changed is how I look at other books as physical objects. When I see interesting-looking books I try to reverse-engineer their covers, layout and type using functions on InDesign and Illustrator.

10– How do you approach the idea of publishing your own writing? Some, such as Gary Geddes when he still ran Cormorant, refused such, yet various Coach House Press’ editors had titles during their tenures as editors for the press, including Victor Coleman and bpNichol. What do you think of the arguments for or against, or do you see the whole question as irrelevant?

Odourless Press is my baby. I pay for its food and wipe its bum. I was the first author I published, and if I had any new writing of my own I’d probably publish it myself. If Odourless were receiving public funding, self-publishing might constitute a conflict of interest, but it’s not, so for me the question is irrelevant.

11– How do you see Odourless Press evolving?
Again, it depends on my circumstances. If I get a stable job (with dental coverage) I’ll definitely buy a book binder and just start making trade books. For instance if I had the resources right now I’d be giddy to publish Ben Ladouceur’s first trade collection. But if in a few years I’m living precariously on a minimum-wage income where an unexpected dental filling might cost as much as a year’s worth of publishing, I might have to go back to selling word-formatted pamphlets for 50 cents or go on hiatus again.

For all I know, next spring I might abandon chapbooks and just publish six little pamphlets from six different authors. Outside of perfect binding, I want to try different shapes, different papers, different typographic styles. Like I said, this next year or so is probably the only part of my life I’ll be privileged with so much time to scour design blogs, test-print weird prototypes and experiment on Adobe.

12– What, as a publisher, are you most proud of accomplishing? What do you think people have overlooked about your publications? What is your biggest frustration?
Accomplishment-wise, I’m proud of the quality of poetry Odourless has published. I have a lot of insecurities as a poet, but I trust my instincts as a reader and editor. I honestly think that Odourless is tapping some of Canada's very best young poets, and you gotta tap that. Tapping that is paramount. I’ve encountered work by similarly exciting poets of this generation situated (I think) out west, like Kayla Czaga and Vincent Colistro, whose work I’d love to publish here if I’m ever able to get in touch with them.

Frustration-wise, every now and then I come up against one of these older small press people who've developed a bit of a David vs Goliath complex with the rest of the literary world. They can be a bit antagonistic and sometimes end up insulating themselves from new and exciting work (and people!).

13– Who were your early publishing models when starting out?
I’ve already said Apt. 9. There are tiny presses in Montreal and BC making neat books, but I think Toronto’s Ferno House and Paper Pusher are near the top in terms of interesting design. The Emergency Response Unit folks have a reliable eye for good poetry. I love Junction Books. I’m shamelessly Ontario-centric due to lack of exposure. While I don’t own any of their chapbooks, I’ve admired the old Streetcar Editions and Pink Dog stuff listed on Apollinaire’s Bookshoppe.

14– How does Odourless Press work to engage with your immediate literary community, and community at large? What journals or presses do you see Odourless in dialogue with? How important do you see those dialogues, those conversations?
By publishing. I’ve already listed some presses I admire and try to imitate. Most of my favourite poetry journals/magazines publish online (which helps eliminate geographical distance, but not geographical cliquishness (which I’m guilty of)). I see these dialogues as important, though perhaps not to be taken too seriously. Maybe Matthew Walsh will take copies of his Odourless chapbook out east (where’s he from) and out west (where he’s moving) and some reader will donate their estate to Odourless Press instead of their ingrate kids.

15– Do you hold regular or occasional readings or launches? How important do you see public readings and other events?
Yes, launches. Important, but not too self-important or else they’re no fun. The best and worst thing about readings is that if you miss one there’ll always be another one. Unless the reader dies. Pre-death readings are highly important.

16– How do you utilize the internet, if at all, to further your goals?
If the internet had been invented in the 1950s, Contact Press would’ve been a whole other beast. The internet is how I’ve found out about more distant projects, like the Mellow Pages Library, to whom I hope to send Odourless chapbooks. If Bill Knott's blog was still up I'd find his address and mail him chapbooks. On the receiving end, I hope to eventually use the internet to solicit work from poets I’d never run into at readings here because they’re in Vancouver or St. John’s.

17– Do you take submissions? If so, what aren’t you looking for?
Like Mike Piazza on holiday, Odourless Press is not seeking unsolicited pitches.

18– Tell me about three of your most recent titles, and why they’re special.
Let me tell you about the two Odourless chapbooks from this spring and one upcoming fall chapbook. Suzannah Showler’s Sucks To Be You and Other True Taunts continues the recent tradition (ushered (at least I think) into Toronto by Kevin Connolly’s Asphalt Cigar) of delivering genuine meditation in a dense, surrealist-inflected, disarmingly silly package. Like David McFadden poems but with less loafing around. Zani and I both worship at the altar of Dean Young. She also seems to be on the same wavelength as recent Coach House poets like Helen Guri and Andrew Faulkner. The Sucks To Be You poems and the chapbook itself are both condensed squares. Her poems gain momentum from sometimes elaborate and highly varied sentence structures and in that way resemble some of Karen Solie’s work (think of Solie’s poem “Flashpoint”). Unrelated: the long vowel sound in Showler’s last name is pronounced like bowler and not like scowler.

The core of Matthew Walsh’s Cloudpeople is also meditative, but in a much more meandering way. The influence of PK Page is traceable, but also the mystical bent and expansive scope of someone like Whitman. I feel like the speaker in Matthew’s longpoems is the kind of guy who wanders in the park then stops to smell a clump of dirt for like half an hour. But there’s also this hyperactive side to his shorter poems that build on and accelerate their own linguistic energy. Like “I’m Condoleeza Rice” or “Whippoorwills and George Orwell” which riff off the assonance and syllabic stress patterns of the subject’s names, or “anne, ma azure woman,” which doesn’t use any letters whose parts jut above or below the line (think l’s, y’s, d’s, f’s, etc.).

The third chapbook, which Odourless will publish this fall, and which I’ve read a number of times already, is Mat Laporte’s Life Savings. He printed three simple copies of an early manuscript draft which he sold for $2 each when he read at the Emerging Writers reading series, and as soon as I read it I wanted to publish more copies. I’ve always wanted to publish political poetry, but that’s as hard to come by as it is to define. Mat’s poetry is political in the sense that it’s destructive. It subverts and caricatures the language that paradoxically upholds both consumerism and austerity. His poetry is also a record of its own destruction: the syntax is self-interruptive; images compete then morph; some sentences are just sentence clauses that abruptly end; all thoughts and materials are perpetually flying apart and all consumption seems like a hilariously doomed attempt at containment: “In the operation of post-industrial / smock oblivion, I always seem to be eating / something wrapped inside of something else.” For a sneak peek at Life Savings, check out Mat’s poems in Brooklyn Rail.

[Odourless Press participates in the spring 2013 edition of the ottawa small press book fair on Saturday, June 15, and Sinaee reads as part of the pre-fair reading on Friday, June 14]

12 or 20 (small press) questions;

Monday, November 28, 2011

Ongoing notes: the ottawa small press book fair

Can you believe another small press fair has come and gone? If you need more, the fall edition of The Toronto Small Press Fair comes up on December 10 at the University of Toronto’s Hart House. Otherwise, you have to wait for spring. Can you wait that long?

Don’t forget the triple-launch on December first at the Carleton Tavern [details here], with Christine McNair launching a chapbook (see Cameron Anstee’s review on the ottawa poetry newsletter here), Matthew Firth launching a collection of short stories and Bardia Sinaee launching a chapbook as well. Might we see you?

Ottawa/Toronto ON: It was great to see Ottawa poet Nicholas Lea participate in the pre-fair reading, especially since he gave perhaps his finest reading so far, to launch the chapbook Actual Girl (Toronto ON: The Emergency Response Unit, 2011), following up his trade collection, Everything is movies (Ottawa ON: Chaudiere Books, 2007). Quiet in the interim, Lea’s poems have deepened, lengthened, and developed a level of maturity. When I say quiet, I mean almost completely silent, with little released into the world in the four years since his trade book appeared, nary a poem appearing in an anthology or journal but for the rare one or two. Just where has he been?
Reading Fanny Howe

It's gotten to the point
where it isn't about an image
but the drug of its self.

Every calamity has
its certainty-music
and by contrast
its unreality.

It's true I've been wanting
to be someone at all.

Wires swing
like skipping ropes, but
I promise
it's not about images.

Sun in the haze
a milky bulb.
I promise.
Nicholas Lea has always been partial to the formalists, existing somewhere between lyric metaphor and more abstract surrealism. Imagine, if you will, somewhere in the scale from David O’Meara to Kevin Connolly to Stuart Ross. I admire his careful poems, quietly reworked as far away as possible before releasing them, carved and ready to an eagerly awaiting audience. The poems take as long as they take, I suppose.
Actual Girl
A vital flower winks
at the gawking boy
holding a candle popsicle.

This was no average savage
bicycle romp. We sat lipless
on a rock with ocean spiders.

I saw you renew,
watched you chew

the mush dark, you,
actual girl.
Ottawa ON: Pearl Pirie released In Air/Air Out: 21 Poets for the Guatemala Stove Project (phafours press, 2011), quietly edited and published by her as a fundraiser for a project that provides stoves for Guatemalan homes (one can find out more information, as well as donate directly at their website, www.guatemalastoveproject.org). A lovely small chapbook already going into a second printing, it is filled with new text and visuals by Amanda Earl, Allison Armstrong, Shai Ben-Shalom, James DeMers, Rick Kempa, Rhonda Melanson, Mike Montreuil, Nedjo Rogers, Luminita Suse, Robert Swereda, Danielle Susi, Kevin Spenst, Jade Scapillato, Monty Reid, My Name Is Scot, Adrienne Mercer, Phil Hall, Candra, Dawn Corrigan, Jeremy Colangelo and even myself.
Breathe In the Difference
Choose our brand of air. It’s the purest
and each canister lasts a guaranteed eight hours.
Don’t trust what our competitors say.
We begin with pristine elements. Our oxygen
is recovered from pockets in the last of the polar ice.
You don’t want to take any chances
when you’re on a road trip
protected from the choking multitudes only by
your thin membrane of bulletproof glass. (Nedjo Rogers)
Given that the chapbook was produced as a fundraiser for Guatemalan families to be able to breathe cleaner air, as opposed to fire-pits in their homes that filled their lungs and their rooms up with smoke, the “air” theme is quite interesting, a provides for an interesting grouping of poems. What might a group of writers do with such a similar theme or idea?
11. Denver – Mexico City

All air is hard air.

There’s a storm in the Gulf and another
winding itself up in the Pacific
and the continent is squeezed into a funnel
through which we all eventually disappear.

If you put the air into the machine
it will make you anything.

It will make you butterflies. (Monty Reid)

Ottawa ON: Odourless Press, as well as hosting a website of new and reprinted material (sometimes, unfortunately, without permission, which has got them into a speck of trouble), has edged into producing chapbooks, with sealed envelopes holding copies of Jeff Blackman’s Back To My Old Self (2011) and Bardia Sinaee’s Royal Jelly: five poems (2011). Both poets originally came out of CarletonUniversity’s In/Words magazine and press, an informal group that produce a journal, occasional chapbooks and a reading series, and a number of writers have come through their ranks, including Cameron Anstee, Ben Ladouceur, David Currie, jesslyn delia smith and plenty of others.
Progress
by fifty, I’ll be great” think myself a natural wonder waiting to be discovered or maybe win the lottery (everyone will eventually) or would I tend to keep my faith in the mirror, scale in proportion to the neighbours, avoid failure, those conversations

(never having been through revolution) a genuine surprise when the rally ends
the pals from the old neighbourhood get real quiet when the lyrics change the song

not what the earnest expect, like the wrongly imprisoned;
muster an excuse that rhymes with dupes

so sing a psalm: everyday I’ll make mistakes tomorrow I’ll make most of them
Ottawa writer Jeff Blackman edits/publishes the journal Moose and Pussy, and was recently the first runner-up for Carleton’s 2011 George Johnston Poetry Prize. His small leaflet/chapbook Back To My Old Self contains a small handful of uneven poems. There are some good moments here, including in the George Johnston-shortlisted “Mario in Koopaland circa Movember,” but are often obscured. His shorter-lined poems, perhaps the constraint of shorter lines themselves, provide more clarity, purpose and strike, such as the end of the poem “Single Player’s Revival,” that reads:
a bliss of gravity
against the centre
Iranian-born and Canadian-raised Bardia Sinaee, author of Royal Jelly: five poems and the broadsheet “Clearing Up the Question of It’s Doing By Us” (Moose and Pussy/In/Words, 2011) has started to have work appear in other venues as well, including Arc poetry magazine and PRISM International.
Four Ways to Eat Your Dandelion
1
Misanthropes, consider our public parks:
more trees than a hawk’s beard has feathers,
jogging paths to discover spandex
and revel in the names of dogs.

2
Protestors and false prophets may demonstrate
for themselves within the Free Speech Zone
between the waterfowl preserve
and the experimental farm.

3
From the roots up under marble shrines
for those late-onset philanthropists
whose descendants today fly coach
for our secular libraries and museums.

4
For representatives and councillors
at the municipal level, catered affairs
are encouraged, both for the local economy
and as a chance to compare spouses.
Sinaee’s poems are tight, compelling, carved monologues, and, like Blackman’s poems, far tighter when the lines are reigned in, such as in the three part “No Sparrow,” a poem that, by itself, is more than worth the price of admission. Composed, it says “1995: Tehran, Iran,” it begins with:
The prayer calls moaning from the minarets
follow us home from the video store, hanging

like clotheslines between the tenements. This
is how and when we see the thing

wiped on the asphalt: half its wing and the insides’
coral clockwork on the street. We are helplessly young

and the bird still breathing. We lay it by a tulip stem
on a bundle of your father’s briefs.