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DIAGRAM 17.2 er ude

Af Lyrikere - 4. maj 2017

Nedenfor følger teksten fra nyhedsbrevet.

Hvilke danske tidsskrifter så du gerne formidlet på samme måde?

vh, kenneth k
__

Dear subscribers, contributors, and friends,

As usual, at the end of the even-numbered months of the year, I write you with news of the new.

DIAGRAM 17.2 is out. Find it here

Before we get to the new issue, because we get a couple sheepish emails a day or two after the Chapbook Contest deadline (which was technically Friday) asking if it’s too late to submit, we’ve decided to allow you—because you’re a reader & friend of the magazine—to submit through 5/1, should you have the desire. Details at the link below. At midnight AZ time on 5/1 we will close submissions with no exceptions.

But: to this. We have a new issue n stuff:

It’s got TEXT & IMAGE by Gina AlexandraLaw AlsobrookKaren BabineCarl BoonHolly BrownMargaret CiprianoHayli CoxJohnny DammAdam DayMarya HornbacherHeikki HuotariNabil KashyapHeather Kirn LanierTed LardnerMichael Jeffrey LeeDennis MombauerLaura C J OwenEric PankeyKathleen PeirceSimon PerchikDerek PollardIsabelle ShepherdRyan Patrick SmithChristine SpillsonElizabeth TownsendMichael Joseph Walsh, and Paige Webb.

REVIEWS: Alizabeth Worley on Danielle Cadena DeulenJoe Sacksteder on Henry Hoke, and Rebecca Doverspike on Keegan Lester

& SCHEMATICS: Balanced Single-Phase Full-Wave RectifierBuckminster Fuller’s Schematic of the Relationships Possible Within a System of Seven Vectors, Illustrating the Non-Additive Mathematics Which Makes Synergy PossibleDevice for the Prevention of Birds with Transparent BarriersDr. Aitken’s Dust-CounterHow Much Space an Insulted Lady Needs to Leave the RoomMale and Female Reality Model, and Uniform with Optionally Concealed/Deployed Visual Panels for Display about a 360 Degree Periphery.

So let’s begin with two excerpt from the new issue, a poem from Kathleen Peirce’s 5 Poems in the issue: –>

*

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE A MAN

In my hand, with my eyes, I find
my great grandfather on the side edge
of a hardwood chair, up on a hip
with his legs crossed, with his hat
pushed back, with his forehead torn by a fleck like a shot
had rung, but he smiles.
My own face as a child comes to mind
like light displaced on lake water by an oar
in my father’s hand. And
I had read the sentence here we have a stone earlobe
absorbing the prayers of an ancient Egyptian
the day the couple came to fix the clock,
a grandfather, taller than. They moved, at work,
like fewer than two animals, more than one flower, his gentle
removal of the face, her hand holding the door away,
their one voice low, asking for tools across which
tools were passed, with the heartbeat stopped, her white gloves on,
his shoulder back inside, his hand so lightly
hitting the notes out of sequence wildly, with my son still
not speaking, not come home for years. Absorb, lobe of stone,
because we are first sensual, and then must be rich.

*

Killer.

Last reminder: Monday is the last day for the 2017 chapbook contest. Guidelines here. D

Things we’re reading: Lindsey Drager’s The Lost Daughter Collective, Mary Gaitskill’s Somebody With a Little Hammer, Kristen Radtke’s Imagine Wanting Only This, Dan Beachy-Quick’s A Whaler’s Dictionary, Laura Raicovich’s At the Lightning Field, The Magnetic Fields’ 50 Song Memoir, Quim Monzó’s A Thousand Morons, Stephanie Reents’ The Kissing List, and Aaron Smith’s Primer.

Looking forward to what’s next, as always. Send us yours.

Thanks.

Ander Monson, Editor

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