Blogs

Jesse Malin, San Francisco, March 2013

Swinging Modern Sounds #65: Tragedy Plus Time

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Jesse Malin is a lifer in a business that rarely features lifers anymore. ...more

bye ted

Ted Wilson: Goodbye, Hello!

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After five years, seven months, and eighteen days at The Rumpus, Ted Wilson Reviews the World is coming to an end. Then it’s immediately coming to a beginning when it begins appearing each week at Electric Literature, starting today.

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Super Hot Prof-on-Student Word Sex #14: Julia MacDonnell

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Julia was one of those “students” whom you suspect, after maybe fifteen seconds, should actually be teaching the class you are currently (allegedly) teaching. ...more

Letters for Kids Signed Book Giveaway

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We’re doing another Letters for Kids giveaway! Win a beautiful hardcover edition of The Key & The Flame, signed by the author Claire M. Caterer! (Claire also wrote our next Letter for Kids.) All you have to do for a chance to win is head over to our Letters for Kids Facebook page by May 2nd and leave a comment telling us where you first heard of Letters for Kids. The winner will be announced on the Letters for Kids Facebook page on May 3rd. And even if you’ve won before, you can still enter!

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Next Letter for Kids: Claire Caterer

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We’re sending our next Letter for Kids from Claire Caterer! Claire writes to us about her outdoor wild friend Pete the cardinal. Pete’s not like other cardinals but he has won Claire’s heart, and he’ll win yours too. This letter is handwritten with lots of awesome drawings of Pete doing all sorts of things. Claire is the author of The Key & The Flame and she’s generously donated a signed copy for our next giveaway—keep an eye on our Facebook page for details!

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National Poetry Month Day 22: “The Limit” by Adam McGovern

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The Limit

“I don’t see them,” I said
when my mom told me men were landing on the moon
but I wasn’t surprised they were, and why would I be,
I was expecting them
at that age, in that era when you had no idea what doesn’t happen
Looking up at the moon, where we might as well have been,
driving at night through gray desert under a banner of stars
My dad had the radio on but he couldn’t see them either,
so he veered into one isolated motel
long, A-framed, like some arrow sticking out of the ground,
and rapped on the door to let us watch on the lobby TV
The old man at the desk drifted over —
they hadn’t been watching it either —
and we stared, standing, at the waves of static
that we couldn’t make a thing out in
and why should we,
since I was sure this was bouncing not from some news studio
but directly from the moon
which had a long way to go
We spent a lot of time like that, between worlds,
visiting relatives on the bright side of the continent
from the gray, concrete east
moving almost twenty times.
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