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Jackson Holbert
Today I will sit
in the grass and smell
the sunlight. I will leave
the pills in their bottles,
I will leave the bottles
by my bed. I will walk
to the insane river. I will let
the crazy wind cut and curve
around me. I will close
my eyes and dream
of medical sewage
poisoning the river a hundred
miles upstream. And somewhere
in all that trash
there is a little hit
of morphine. I will think
if nothing ever leaves
then the wind is full
of all the smoke I ever blew.
And if nothing ever leaves
does that mean I'm still
dopesick at fifteen, telling
my parents the flu is going around?
If I am then so what.
I am also walking through the cemetery
at dawn, friends
on both sides of me—our little
drunken army marching
out of the night.
If I am, then so what. I am also
lying in my bed at twenty-two staring
so deeply at the bark beetle-riddled trees
that I don't notice
the vacant light lessening then
leaving entirely. I don't notice
when the night climbs into my bed
like a terrified brother and the wind
slams the door.
from the book WINTER STRANGER / Milkweed Editions
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When I was writing this poem I was interested in how we free ourselves from the past, and how we choose what to remember. I wanted the past to come very close to overwhelming the speaker without actually doing so. A lot of my work is about isolation, and I wanted to show a peopled past, a past in which friends—no matter how far they are from you now—are real, and moving, and beside you.

Jackson Holbert on "Poem with a Smoke Cloud Hanging in It"
Headshot of Roger Robinson, one of the poets short-listed for the Forward performance prize
Forward Prizes Add Award for Performance

“The performance category is a much-needed addition to the literary prize....Historically, spoken word artists have been ignored by the poetry establishment, and this prize means that is no longer possible. It signals that spoken word and performed poetry is as valuable, dynamic and exploratory as published works."

via THE GUARDIAN
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Cover of the translation of Rene Char's The Brittle Age and Returning Upland
What Sparks Poetry:
Jody Gladding on René Char's The Brittle Age and Returning Upland 


"There are other more comprehensive volumes of Char’s work in translation....But this one offers a wonderful bookness. There’s an integrity to the object, the physical form with the page as its basic unit, the short poems set in that space, nothing to distract me as I turn the page, or don’t. It fits in the hand, rests on a shelf, travels in a pack."
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