Bøger udgivet af RED HEN PR

Libretto for the opera The scarlet letter composed by Lori Laitman.

We Did Not Fear The Father: New & Selected Poems contains the best of forty years of Charles Fort. Ranging easily through a dizzying array of forms—sonnets, villanelles, prose poems, sestinas, elegies, blank verse, haiku, and modular poems, for starters—Charles Fort here demonstrates, unequivocally, that he is a master of his craft. By turns surreal, tender, terrifying, absurd, and soulful, FortÆs work churns with passionate, forceful expression.

The Los Angeles Review is a literary journal of divergent literature with a West Coast emphasis. Established in 2003, LAR publishes both the stories of Los Angeles, endlessly varied, and those that grow outside our world of smog and glitter. LAR seeks voices with something wild in them, voices that know what it means to be alive, to be fallible, to be human.

As Gertrude Stein might have put it, a cento is a collage is a mix tape is a video montage.This hypothetical description is fitting in a number of ways. Although the cento form is ancient—in existence since at least the days of Virgil and Homer—it was also used to striking effect in the Modern era: consider, for example, T. S. EliotÆs The Waste Land and Ezra PoundÆs Cantos.More recent centos include John AshberyÆs \u201cThe Dong with the Luminous Nose,\u201d Peter GizziÆs \u201cOde: Salute to The New York School 1950-1970\u201d (a libretto), Connie HersheyÆs \u201cEcstatic Permutations,\u201d and the \u201cSplit This Rock Poetry Festival—Cento, March 23, 2008\u201d (a collaborative protest poem delivered in front of the White House).The Cento: A Collection of Collage Poems, edited by Theresa Malphrus Welford and with an introduction by David Lehman, features an extensive sampling of centos, collage poems, and patchwork poems written by Nicole Andonov, Lorna Blake, Alex Cigale, Allan Douglass Coleman, Philip Dacey, Sharon Dolin, Annie Finch, Jack Foley, Kate Gale, Dana Gioia, Sam Gwynn, H. L. Hix, David Lehman, Eric Nelson, Catherine Tufariello, and many others.

A child dies on the border between California and Mexico. This is nothing new: immigrants die crossing the border all the time, escaping from poverty and violence in Latin America. They bake in the desert. But this death is different. Someone has taken body parts from the child. FBI Agent Romilia Chacón, a Salvadoran American, follows this case into a world that swallows her with its horror, a world that exists alongside ours, where children are bought and sold like cattle and shipped to men all across the country. The dealers in this blackest of markets have no moral barometer, only a lust for cash. And one among them has taken murder to a level beyond serial killing. Romilia comes to this case already broken: the man she loved and yet had to hunt--drug runner Tekún Umán, a regular on the FBI's Most Wanted List--is gone. Romilia has two friends, her partner Nancy Pearl--who lives a double life between the Feds and the cartels--and a bottle of booze. Romilia's mother is on her back to get sober; her son drifts further and further away. And the killer is taking away pieces of Romilia's life, day by day.

Genevieve Kaplan's in the ice house offers an innovative meditation on domestic life and the physical world that surrounds it, chronicling "at least the beginnings of some disaster" taking place in a landscape that "had no symmetry." Deftly channeling poets like Wallace Stevens and John Ashbery, as well as invoking Kaplan's own distinct poetic sensibility, these poems reveal an atmospheric and wondrous world filled with odd and compelling images. Readers confront the menace of the ordinary, "the whale-faced spout of the drainpipe, the cluck / of the chicken-bird" and how "the light attacks / the window and the stress of the shining / does not ease." The poet's insistent evocation of elemental images-the birds, the ice, the water-becomes almost incantatory, as the speaker seeks escape from "the frantic outside" she's trapped within. Kaplan's sky "has the depth / of an ocean," and this book deeply articulates how "silence is the only word that can replace loss." Moving artfully between internal desires and incisive observations of the external, these stunning poems radiate with both heat and ice.

The Los Angeles Review is a literary journal of divergent literature with a West Coast emphasis. Established in 2003, LAR publishes both the stories of Los Angeles, endlessly varied, and those that grow outside our world of smog and glitter. LAR seeks voices with something wild in them, voices that know what it means to be alive, to be fallible, to be human.

From python hunting to Swami Keerti s laughing meditation, from a death in the family to a burial on the rural acres where he s stood his ground for a decade, Gaylord Brewer extends and explodes his career-long obsessions in Give Over, Graymalkin. This 8th collection of poems is a journal of loss and recovery, departure and surprising return, fleeting hours in a world diminished yet wondrous. Seas writhe with uncharted beasts. Horsemen gather, conflagrant beneath sword and cross. A daughter mounts a bicycle and a divorce has the Harley delivered. From India to France to Spain, to the birdsong and day lilies of his unruly garden, Brewer continues as poetic conquistador mapping our longing, melancholy, and joy. With his characteristic wit and compassion, signature sculpted lines, and incantatory vigor, buried metaphors arise, holy days pass, toasts are raised, suns set over the desert of the animate dead. And the weary traveler? He approaches a dark corridor that may or may not be the way home."

The Alphabet Conspiracy takes its name from a 1950s-era school filmstrip of the same title. With a cast that includes patron saints for country girls and criminals, a Revolutionary War hero, the Wolfman, a sin-eater, John Wayne, and Johnny Cash, these poems swagger and sulk through an educational film turned film noir, replete with femme fatales in love.The Alphabet Conspiracy is about the ways in which language itself can function as a plot, keeping us estranged from ourselves, but also about the way it can be used as a tool for recovering our truest selves.

Río De Sangre tells the story, in Spanish, of the overthrow of a dictatorship in a fictional South American country. In the aftermath of a coup d'état, the new leader of a Latin American republic embarks on an idealistic course for his nascent government. Faced with numerous problems and no one to trust, our protagonist Delacruz realizes that the good of the country and the protection of his own family may be more than he can achieve. A series of catastrophic events follow--earthquakes, kidnapping and assassination, combine to allow the rise of an adversarial wolf in sheep's clothing. The outbreak of a riot affords the opportunity for this adversary to assume control of the government, thus perpetuating the tragic cycle of oppression. The passion and color of the South American heritage, and the triumphs and struggles of its people throughout its history of oppression and tragedy suggests music of monumental drama.

One critic said about Some Help From the Dead, "These are flawless poems, poems I like as much as any of W.S. Merwin's poems (at his best)." In this, her third collection, Ally Acker continues her fascination with how the familiar proves to be mysterious, how the present, past and future all to merge as our lives progress. As Elizabeth Bishop once wrote, the art of losing isnÆt hard to master. And so with her ear tuned to the ground, garnering wisdom from those who have passed, Acker listens for the lyrical cadences of nature on what is lost, and found again.The mundane becomes surreal (as in The Window, where "the photographs are where / the building once was: / Cows, mountains, streams. / But her landlord will do nothing…", and in her extraordinarily inventive interpretations of the paintings by the Surrealist, Remedios Varo), and the surreal transmutes into the quotidian. What arises is a miraculous resonance in the everyday, and a poetry that celebrates the living.

¿`I am going to keep death from entering this poem,¿ Kurt Brown writes in No Other Paradise. These masterful poems are taut with the power of the unspoken. Their urgency is visceral. If the problem of our century is Hegel¿s dilemma of cognition and the will¿the more we know, the less we can act¿Brown is searching for a knowledge so immediate, so free of rhetoric, that our scary responsibilities will open the world up rather than paralyzing us. With a clear eye, zapping wit, and a mind haunted by the unfathomable future, Brown is creating fascinating poetry whose horizons lie far beyond the self. No Other Paradise leaves us in that strangest, richest moment, the human present.¿¿D. Nurkse¿At the climax of Kurt Brown¿s evocative meditations on everything from nature and news to baloney, there is his astonishing title poem. A walk through a teeming cityscape inhabited by the memorable likes of Miss Donna, ¿Mystical Astrologist,¿ this Whitmanesque celebration of the turbulent here-and-now powerfully conveys Brown¿s vision of the fleeting, sensory moment, a view summed up in his echoing line: don¿t let go.¿¿Kimiko Hahn

Poems that prompt and deepen our attention to the world.

Tess Taylor's much-anticipated lyric debut is at once a sensuous reckoning with an ambiguous family history and a haunting meditation on national legacy. The Forage House explores how we make stories, and how stories--even painful ones--make us.

A powerful and gripping allegory of an ordinary man trying to survive in the oppressive Chinese communist regime of the 1970s.