October 21, 2014


Two Fats and a Virtue, November 2014by JoAnna Novak
Here is the female body imperiled and thrilling, vexed and transmutative, the flesh tightroping all manner of hungers, “reckless, unleashed” and throating apples, yes, but also words: “torte of mucous and muscle/dumpling in my center,” Novak writes. Ode and admonition, this work is rigorous, charged, and a pure pleasure to enter.  
—Kerri Webster
 

Poems forgive us for just about anything, most particularly for our being human and mortal and messy, unreliable and doomed.  Novak says, I know what I see.  Her felicitous talents let her tell us about some things she sees and by these means invite us to join in this difficult conversation.
Two Fats and a Virtue bursts at its seams with forbidding and catastrophic meaning; lyric complications never stay hidden.
—Dara Wier

Two Fats and a Virtue, November 2014
by JoAnna Novak

Here is the female body imperiled and thrilling, vexed and transmutative, the flesh tightroping all manner of hungers, “reckless, unleashed” and throating apples, yes, but also words: “torte of mucous and muscle/dumpling in my center,” Novak writes. Ode and admonition, this work is rigorous, charged, and a pure pleasure to enter.  

—Kerri Webster

 

Poems forgive us for just about anything, most particularly for our being human and mortal and messy, unreliable and doomed.  Novak says, I know what I see.  Her felicitous talents let her tell us about some things she sees and by these means invite us to join in this difficult conversation.
Two Fats and a Virtue bursts at its seams with forbidding and catastrophic meaning; lyric complications never stay hidden.

—Dara Wier

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September 28, 2014


The Making of the Two Fats and a Virtue Book Cover from Slash Pine on Vimeo.

Two Fats and a Virtue
JoAnna Novak

slashpinepress.com


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September 5, 2014


Open for Submissions!

Slash Pine Press Submission Manager

We are pleased to announce that we are open for prose chapbook submissions! Details are on our submittable page. We look forward to reading your work.

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September 1, 2014


Our Summer Chapbook Contest Winners!

Congratulations to our Summer Chapbook Contest Winners!

JoAnna Novak - Two Fats and a Virtue (Fall 2014)
Sarah McCartt-Jackson - Children Born on the Wrong Side of the River (Spring 2015)

Thanks to all that submitted for giving us a chance to read your work—the interns are super psyched to get designing.

Our newest call for submissions goes up tomorrow (!) so look out for that.


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May 22, 2014


A Review of Rachel Mallino’s 309.81 by Alex Goolsby

The chapbook 309.81 by Rachel Mallino was published by dancing girl press, a small press that describes itself as an indie publisher with a goal “to publish and promote the work of women poets through chapbooks, journals, and anthologies” that “bridges the gaps between schools and poetic technique – work that’s fresh, innovative, and exciting.” The first thing I did when I received the chapbook in the mail was look for Mallino’s bio. I love author bios and author pics because they tend to show you something more about the author: how they view themselves and how they wanted you to see them. There wasn’t one. I wanted to know more about Mallino so I googled her. She popped up on a blog about tattooed poets where she shared the vine tattoo that wraps around her foot. She claims it represents the unhealthy relationship she has with her mother. This relationship is fodder for the first two sections of 309.81.

309.81 is broken into four sections. The first section titled ‘In This House’ opens with this quote from Thoreau: “Our houses are such unwieldy property that we are often imprisoned rather than housed by them.” Each of the nine poems in this section addresses the odds and ends of our houses, like berber carpet, nail-polish & notebooks, and strands of hair, but their ordinariness is tortured by the harsh realities of this mother and this daughter. The second section is titled ‘To Be Fifteen Again’ and contains a series of poems that a numbered and series that, if you put all the titles together, you get the phrase ‘Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.’ This black humor surfaces throughout Mallino’s work, adding even more depth to the pieces.

Throughout all the poems, Mallino’s word choice is pure perfection. One of my favorite things about reading poetry is feeling the way the words writers choose roll around in my mouth. Mallino is sensory delight with lines like “I sniffed out the screwdriver / and ruptured that lock like any good scab” and “to have linoleum thin hair – a finger’s runway.” I found myself reading lines over and over again just to feel how they sounded, ones like “how z in Elizabeth / cuts right through the name’s soft tissue” and “this house is a comfortable chemical” and “maybe the bile / is my good Easter dress.” Simply fantastic.

These poems may center on the affects of a teenaged relationship between a mother and a daughter, but no teen angst will be found within these pages. Mallino’s words are visceral, and my ears were heavy with the weight to the all-too-real relationship that readers are forced into, the relationship between this mother and this daughter and medication and the frenzy of new life.

With this publication, dancing girl press has succeeded. 309.81 is like raw concrete you’ve fallen and scrapped your knee on. It opens you up so you feel the blood pumping inside. And later, you’ll realize you’re still tugging on the scar it left long after it’s healed.

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April 17, 2014


Abattoir, May 2014by Jordan Sanderson
“Insert coin here.  The curtains might spread unevenly.  This is a human operation.” The trapeze artist’s hands crushed by an elephant, corn bleeding in its husk, sharks circling below—these poems deliver on the slaughter promised in the title but they are much more than visceral. In the tradition of our greatest prose poets (Baudelaire, Simic, Tate), these poems sacrifice the unity of the whole for the specificity of the part (the body for the muscle flexing beneath); they go down to where the heat is generated. The speed and range of the imagination at play here is staggering. Dizzying, uncanny, “You might feel that ghosts are performing world famous sex acts on the edge of the light,” reading this collection, but not to worry. The poems explode but never exclude: “You will be in every picture.”                                                                                                                      —Lindsay Doukopoulos, poetry editor for Pantheon Magazine

To enter Jordan Sanderson’s Abattoir is to arrive in a place wherein conscious dreaming is possible. Indeed, these pieces combine to create a sort of wakeful parasomnia: the poems are a nightmarish tumble of images and associations but deeply comedic, textural, and beautiful. Sanderson’s ability to recontextualize the quotidian, to mix elements of daily life into a blur of surreal and existential mosaics reminds one of Wallace Stevens. However, Sanderson’s prose poems cleanse the mind even as they challenge it, refresh the senses even as the poems themselves speak to the transitory nature of human perception. Both genuinely frightening and comedic, Sanderson has achieved the sublime in this remarkable volume.

    —William Wright, author of Tree Heresies and Night Field Anecdote 

Abattoir, May 2014
by Jordan Sanderson

“Insert coin here.  The curtains might spread unevenly.  This is a human operation.” The trapeze artist’s hands crushed by an elephant, corn bleeding in its husk, sharks circling below—these poems deliver on the slaughter promised in the title but they are much more than visceral. In the tradition of our greatest prose poets (Baudelaire, Simic, Tate), these poems sacrifice the unity of the whole for the specificity of the part (the body for the muscle flexing beneath); they go down to where the heat is generated. The speed and range of the imagination at play here is staggering. Dizzying, uncanny, “You might feel that ghosts are performing world famous sex acts on the edge of the light,” reading this collection, but not to worry. The poems explode but never exclude: “You will be in every picture.”
                                                                                                                      —Lindsay Doukopoulos, poetry editor for Pantheon Magazine

To enter Jordan Sanderson’s Abattoir is to arrive in a place wherein conscious dreaming is possible. Indeed, these pieces combine to create a sort of wakeful parasomnia: the poems are a nightmarish tumble of images and associations but deeply comedic, textural, and beautiful. Sanderson’s ability to recontextualize the quotidian, to mix elements of daily life into a blur of surreal and existential mosaics reminds one of Wallace Stevens. However, Sanderson’s prose poems cleanse the mind even as they challenge it, refresh the senses even as the poems themselves speak to the transitory nature of human perception. Both genuinely frightening and comedic, Sanderson has achieved the sublime in this remarkable volume.

    —William Wright, author of Tree Heresies and Night Field Anecdote 


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