the L notebook

As temperatures hover in the upper 80s, summertimes fantasy of ease takes over, gives rise to a self that, in lieu of work, throws on flip-flops and a swimsuit and heads to the pool. This summerself, only partly satisfied by hours under the shade of an umbrella reading trashy novels, contemplates a fling with that gorgeous creature sunning across the patio. In such a mood the summerself might think romance too much workunless, that is, one was able to keep the pleasure simple, physical, charming. But is this possible, the summerself wonders, shifting in her lounge to get a better view: the dangerous ones start out easy and charming but then maneuver into mystery and complexity, creating the kind of bliss that does more than just please. Such experiences alter us.

Sabine Machers the L notebook, translated by… read the full review »


End of the Sentimental Journey: A Mystery Poem

I am old, I leave the house less and less, I dont go to as many poetry readings as I used to. But I read a lot of poetry—as a reader might hope a reviewer would. But readers of poetry reviews, i.e. yall, are not like readers of movie reviews; the latter might see a few movies a year, and the former are likely reading as many books as the reviewer. Similarly, the average movie-goer is probably not too concerned with the film shes currently directing. So I think it is safe and fair to say that whatever anxiety the poetry reviewer feels is akin to the anxiety of the poetry reader, akin to the poetry performer, akin to the poetry writer. I think all but a few of us feel some anxiety about our preferences, our “likes” and… read the full review »


Things To Do With Your Mouth

Recently released by Les Figues press, Divya Victors Things To Do With Your Mouth examines hysteria and psychoanalytic theory, exploring how bodies are fragmented, dismembered, and silenced when they enter the symbolic order. Victors appropriations, permutations, and repetitions serve to explode the basis by which hysterics bodies and psyches have been perceived as damaged and in need of a “cure.” Victor subverts the way normative meanings are constructed by fragmenting case studies, interrupting interrogations, and saturating us with an excess of body parts and excretions, torturous directives, and biblical curses. By fragmenting and overloading these texts with descriptive excesses, she unleashes the female, sometimes child, “hysterical” being from the knowledge systems that otherwise seek to diagnose, medicalize, and constrain her. If Victors writing sounds harrowing—it is. But it is also terrifically magnetic, glowing with intelligence, elegance, and control…. read the full review »


The Self Unstable

Although The Self Unstable is her third book, Elisa Gabberts dominant mode of publication is the tweet, of which she is queen. As of circa right this moment, she has composed almost 45,000 of them, and, happily, she knows no sign of stopping or slowing down. 45,000 sounds like a lot of anything; it is difficult to present that accounting without provoking a sense of an overwhelming number of tweets, a cascade of tweets, a cacophony, a sky darkened by text. But in the same way that Zenos Paradox forces admission of how a large thing both is and is not well-explained by thinking of it as many smaller things, the sheer numeric bulk of the tweets disguises the genius of their composition: discretion. One must have latitude, but good judgment within that latitude; the more circumscribed the… read the full review »


Orange Roses

I started reading Lucy Ivess Orange Roses in the local library; I enjoyed the architecture of the building, the clerestory, but the screaming children did me in. As I walked out, I thought about the modernist ambitions of the library, a concrete brutalist bunker with touches of the International Style. I thought of the modernist ambitions of Lucy Ivess book, complete with its own architecture of interwoven temporalities, prosodies, and rhythms attempting to engage and understand the space between somatic and intellectual existence, the time between planning and realizing, between counting ahead and being in time, in space, in language. This doesnt touch on the careful architecture of Ivess book, which in thirteen pieces, whether poem or lyric essay, creates a text both variegated and toothy.

Both the library and Ivess book rely on the clerestory as a way… read the full review »