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Moon Woman and don’t get your hopes up is a double chapbook set to be released this year from Thoughtcrime Press. This innovative volume offers readers the opportunity to delight in each individual collection and invites them to consider the interplay between the two very different, very powerful voices of Fatima-Ayan Malika Hirsi and courtney marie. The poems in this dual collection share particular concerns: the body, desire, relationships, identity. Both voices take risks, make confessions, and raise big questions.
For Juan Rulfo’s centenary last year, Dallas-based Deep Vellum Publishing released Douglas Weatherford’s translation of The Golden Cockerel and Other Writings. Consisting of previously untranslated works, it includes Rulfo’s second novel The Golden Cockerel with shorter pieces that were not included in The Plain in Flames, Rulfo’s groundbreaking collection of short stories. For its Days of the Dead production, Teatro Dallas’ Cora Cardona directed “Anacleto Morones,” adapted for the stage from Rulfo’s short story by Dallas writer Anyika McMillan-Herod. During the show’s run, an ofrenda to Rulfo was exhibited in the theater lobby. Considering that most days Dallas feels like a literary backwater, what these organizations and artists put together to celebrate Juan Rulfo was nevertheless impressive.
I like to think of Desperate Literature as a transitional space between street and home. Co-owners Terry Craven and Charlotte Delattre see this space as completely fluid. “There’s little distinction between our private life and public life. It’s how we live and what we live for,” Charlotte says. “A very nice version of how we live.”
Lauren Brazeal’s first full-length collection, Gutter (YesYes Books, 2018), tells the story of a young woman, who identifies herself early in the collection as “Little Mohawked Squatter Punk,” living on the streets of Los Angeles. This collection challenges all my expectations about storytelling in poetry. The narrative emerges from a strange combination of forms, everything from sestina and villanelle to letters, instructions, erasure, checklists, and more.
Most of us know the feeling of coming undone, of drifting through a sea of loneliness unanchored, unmoored. After a few cities, relationships, peregrinations, we struggle to find someone who knows our name, let alone remembers it, who can speak to us in a way that feels vaguely familiar, who knows us in a way we all desire to be known.
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