LABOR DAY / COLLECTED FEELINGS
by Carrie Lorig & Nick Sturm /
128 pages, soft cover,
$11 (First Class postage paid)
This collaborative chapbook collision contains two long poems by two dynamic duos—Carrie Lorig and Nick Sturm vs. Tyler Gobble and Layne Ransom. Best of all, everybody wins.
Sturm and Lorig’s “Labor Day” is as much workers’ ode and formal spasm, as the Ted Berrigan/Anne Waldman “Memorial Day” collaboration to which it pays homage is elegiac and ghosted.
Gobble and Ransom’s “Collected Feelings” finds its way via nearly anthemic, chattery conjunction and machine-like precision, the back and forth of give & take & give & take &.
Presented back-to-back and upside down from one another, Labor Day/Collected Feelings is a mash-up of four blast-site poets that will wreck you alive and leave you in awe: congregation to conflagration, hard work and exuberance.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Carrie Lorig and Nick Sturm are either eating snow in Minneapolis or oysters in Tallahassee. Another collaborative chapbook, Nancy and The Dutch, an erasure of paperback biographies of Ronald and Nancy Reagan, is free online from NAP.
Layne Ransom and Tyler Gobble are stoked on this first collaborative poetry shindig, and are conjuring the in-progress “Brief Scientific Lectures (About Science)” as well as a series of sonnets to the moon. They’ve worked together on stuff like Stoked and The Broken Plate, and currently both take care of business as Bat City Review staff (LR as poetry editor / TG as a lowly reader). They live together in Texas where they are MFA students at the University of Texas (LR in the New Writers Project / TG in the Michener Center). They play disc golf, drink a lot of beer, and try to raise a doofus cat named Ruefle.
from LABOR DAY by Carrie Lorig & Nick Sturm
in the intersections.
It’s a living.
It’s making a living
out of body hair.
Making a living out of
speaking in a body
& fucking bodies & dressing bodies up.
It is full time calling off
It is full time beckoning.
I am making a living
laughing & saying
on everyone’s killed
I am making a living
in all kinds of music.
A statement is making out
in apparition stands.
Dunk tanks distorted with big noises of expanding
bodies, quail hunts, sharply worded smoke, thighs, lager,
loyal drops of milk, mercy-thoughts without a business plan.
from COLLECTED FEELINGS by Layne Ransom & Tyler Gobble
The screaming weather washing over us the downpour of hunger washing over us the zig-zagging sadness against our cheeks washing over us the unanswerable shiver washing over us
Being kind of political and singing a lot. I suppose we deserve Orange Julius,
a beer, the moment before the collision. Chuck knows how to hold the glow.
Fuck you. Hold this silence. Together we will vapor under the green smoke.
I differ in fire. They can turn college into history left alone. Sunday is
the miracle of inflicting opinions on other people. Frank can see
the bottom of this pool, right? Cultures tangle before a god. I am the silent
ice on the surface of the pool. We summon the same cough.
I am ignoring you. I am eating snow. There are no Christmas leftovers.
My personal ugly is amazing. Japan creates time with an electronic whalebone.
So keen on the requirements for living. In a damp woods, our canoes win
first place in locating the giant old lake. I should have been here all along.
Brother, I get stuck in hugs.
I take on contemporary views of December, of happy, of guys are okay.
Forgiveness for me. I am not political, am not politics. Today, this starting
sentences “I am one person…” And it disappoints.
My former BFF Tony has a face like an everything bagel.
And my guess is to feel better and so on and so on. Get lost inside this other
specific instance. Feel glad to have equality and a good Sunday playing with puppies.