If you’re at AWP this week, please stop by The Laurel Review table: G14
See the new issue, with work from an array of most excellent writers, as well as our brand new chapbook, Whither Weather, by Elizabeth Clark Wessel.This is the very limited edition with a typo, get them while you can (before we fix it next week).
As well, TLR subscriptions are cheap right now. One year (two issues) for an insane $5.00.Two years (four issues) for $10.00 plus a free chapbook.
You can also stop by just to say hello.It’s a lonely crowded west sometimes.I promise I’m fever-free and non-contagious.
Here are four poems from Whither Weather to get you in the AWP book-buying mood:
Elizabeth Clark Wessel
Brief on Brevity
The leaf-strewn pool emptying out, the ice
sculpture of the happy couple, and
the iceberg, England-size, drifting (Where
else?) northward. All of this and more. Or
more than all of this. The drink warms up,
waters down, a slice of lemon perched
on its rim, a cocktail napkin getting soaked.
When I try to understand the second law
of thermodynamics, I get stuck in metaphor.
When I try to understand metaphor I never
get stuck in the second law of thermo-
dynamics. Or I am always stuck. This is
why I talk too much. And you, you never
The mind is tired.
What seems like a fly flies by the corner of the eye.
Someone says toothbrush, but in another language.
The toothbrush has its own language.
Swoosh or woosh.
The walls speak or is it the neighbors.
The walls take everything of meaning.
They keep it for themselves.
My mind is a wall.
There’s no truth except from the senses, said the Romantics.
Beyond the senses are more senses.
And beyond that is the land of the toothbrush.
Where everyone is some kind of king.
Is it the neutrino
that flies through everything
trudging through drifts
of uncleared snow it occurs to me
with no other recourse
neutrinos drift around
(this can be inserted
I like this work
I'm less fond of this work I'm never neutral except passionately so
I want you to get me to get home to get out to get through
The snow came through the window
but that’s because the window was open
You have a beautiful head, the captor said.
crisp and literal
asleep in the warmth of the sun
the center of the universe is penetrated we find you in it