Sarah Freligh PQ Contributing Editor The first poems I wrote were about my cats, a pair of crabby old ladies who died within months of each other at the venerable age of eighteen. I was operating on Hemingway’s dictum to …
Monthly Archives: November 2015
Dead Pet Poems: Andrew Hudgins and the Dangers of the Sentimental
Posted in November 18, 2015
Tags: Andrew Hudgins, essay, Fall 2015, Sarah Freligh
One Day
Posted in November 18, 2015
Tags: essay, Fall 2015, Joel Solonche
Joel Solonche One day a poet opens his mouth and nothing comes out. This is the first time this has happened to him. He feels the words stuck in the back of his throat. He feels them tickle and …
Review: Becoming the Sound of Bees by Marc Vincenz
Posted in November 18, 2015
Tags: Ampersand Books, Fall 2015, Marc Vincenz, Matt Hill, review
Matt Hill Becoming the Sound of Bees Marc Vincenz Ampersand Books Paperback, Perfect Bound, 112 pages ISBN: 978-09861370-0-6 http://ampersand-books.com/product/becoming-the-sound-of-bees/ we listened for the sound of bees & hearing nothing but the wind boxing the panes we began to hum …
Poets utter great and wise things which they do not themselves understand (Plato) –or– How I Lost Faith In Poet(s)ry
Posted in November 18, 2015
Tags: Bobbi Lurie, essay, Fall 2015
Bobbi Lurie Several years ago, I opened an email which came from a poet promoting her book “for women with cancer.” It felt like a miracle. The cancer she described sounded similar to the type of cancer my closest friend …
Poetry and the Music of What Matters
Posted in November 18, 2015
Tags: Bruce Bond, essay, Fall 2015, music
Bruce Bond Before I knew that love would end my willful ignorance of death, I didn’t think there was much left in me that was virgin, but there was. That’s why all good music is sad. It makes the wound …
Perceptual Bubbles
Posted in November 18, 2015
Tags: Fall 2015, Leslie L. Nielsen, letter from editor
One thing poetry can do is grab our sunken (that is to say, sublimated or denied) preconceptions, bubble them to the surface, and pop them so close our eyes, it stings. It can be excruciating or refreshing to change direction–sometimes …