Halt and Catch Fire Recap—Episode 2: FUD
It’s the office you always wanted.
Once along the wrong road
it’s Lido & the toe
dipped deep into the water.
Warm, like a home
you thought you had. We wrote
letters to each other
on white boards, we wished
we all had handles. Pick
me up, carry me
through the wall of sound
I’ve built around
myself. The phones just won’t stop
ringing. On the other ends,
saying no. Try this on for size:
the hardest things to sell
are the things you sell
yourself into believing. You
only know the night
below the stars.
Also, I have a website now?
Also also, please come out to Skylight Books tomorrow night if you’re in the area - I’d love to see you, and I’m bringing wine and really good cheese and I still haven’t decided what I’m going to read, and it’s just going to be all generally poet-y and weird.
The inimitable Cody Todd introduced a selection of my poems over at The Offending Adam and I couldn’t be more flattered by his words:
Elizabeth Cantwell’s poems defy the poet’s task of producing art. That is not to say the poems do not qualify as art; quite to the contrary. They are filled with subversion and dangerously figurative language. They approach beauty not through its representation but against its representation.
I don’t know if my little poems can stand up to his praise, but you can judge for yourself if you’d like!
Barrelhouse runs online fiction and poetry workshops for writers who are looking to hone their craft in a professional, fun, and encouraging environment. Participation is $199 and proceeds go to Barrelhouse and our guest instructors. Workshop space is limited to 12 participants. HOW DOES IT WORK? These …
Tumblr people! My friend, the INCREDIBLY talented Jessica Piazza, is running an online poetry workshop for Barrelhouse this summer. She’s looking for more people to join up!
This is a fantastic opportunity if you want to work on deepening your craft, and if you want to set some time aside this summer to really develop your voice.
I asked my husband to make me a book trailer based solely on how he felt after reading Nights I Let The Tiger Get You.
This is what he came up with.
(Oh yeah, and the book will be out REALLY SOON! You can preorder it here, or, if you’re in the LA area, come to Skylight Books on May 23rd and hear me read and drink some wine and eat some cheese and buy it there. IT’LL BE A BLAST.)
My chapbook, Premonitions, is here!
I had a fantastic time working with Scott Sweeney at Grey Book Press on this little manuscript—a group of poems I truly love, and that I hope you can truly love, too. Scott had some really nice things to say about this chapbook, and it will only cost you $6, which is super reasonable. Small presses are the best!
To order one, go here & scroll down until you see the link for Premonitions (the last entry on the Titles page, as it’s the most recent).
Love you, Tumblr.
"Spring," by Edna St. Vincent Millay
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Black Lawrence Press (publishing my book early next month!) featured me in their National Poetry Month series yesterday. I think y’all have read this poem before, but it’s one of my favorites.
Go take a look - and stay tuned for chapbook AND book updates from me very soon!
I’ll post this again when we get closer to the date, but: LAUNCH EVENT! If you live in LA and like poetry and want to come see me read from my book, put this on your calendar! It’s going to be so much fun! Exclamation marks abound!
Hey, this is fun news! A chapbook of mine will be published this spring by Grey Book Press. Super excited to work with Scott and see this little manuscript become a tiny, happy artifact.
Keep your eyes peeled for more details down the road.
One day I heard a man say that his wife / gave up the ghost. But he was like a ghost. / Maybe that’s the truth. We die to leave / the losses that we cannot give away.
I have raved about my friend Jess’s poetry before on here, so it’s high time I let someone else do the raving. Go read this lovely review of her book. And then go buy her book!
Finally getting around to reading Brian Teare, after being told repeatedly that his work would probably be something I’d love. Everyone was right, I love it, and now I just have one more person to wish I was (or to wish I wrote like) when I’m wishing I wasn’t me (or didn’t write like me), and Sight Map is on permanent reading-out-loud rotation in the Cantwell household. (At first I was only reading it out loud because that is one of the only ways I can get reading done these days, but it turns out this stuff is just pure gold to read out loud anyway: The way prayer is root to precarious : two crows creep / the steeple.) I would like to take these poems in a sort of container with me if possible. This has been a Wednesday night poetry reading recommendation.