Sunday, November 23, 2014

The Sound of Sugar....Erica Dawson

Everybody Down

Around this time of year, someone will fall
Over Great Falls. It could be me if I
Left Tampa’s flatness for Virginia’s drawl.
Altiloquent, high-flying cardinals’ cry

Whit chew. The Civil War has its own app,
e-iPhone forts; but, love rides war roughshod
Over Virginia for lovers and sap
Sugar maples. I could get right with God

Here, and descend from blue preoccupations
Catching humidity latching on white
Oak trees, and tangle with indoctrinations:
Survival of the fittest; fright or flight;

Heat rising. Metamorphic slab for miles
Above the water table, stipule spines
Float somewhere for a stagnant spot. Rock stiles
Tease ticks to Climb back up. The ripples’ brine

Is really schist’s sharp grains. How do you like
Me now, God? Accident of fractured bone,
One with nature, the solstice, and a hike.
I bloom in spring. In spring, I die as stone.




About the Poet:

Erica Dawson’s first collection of poems,
Big-Eyed Afraid (Waywiser 2007), won the 2006 Anthony Hecht Poetry Prize. Her new collection, The Small Blades Hurt, is forthcoming from Measure Press. Her poems have appeared in Best American Poetry, Poetry: A Pocket Anthology, Harvard Review, and other journals and anthologies. She teaches in the undergraduate, and the low-residency MFA, program at University of Tampa.

About the Sound of Sugar:

We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.  

Saturday, November 8, 2014

The Sound of Sugar....Charlie Malone

Illusive, Weeded

white chicken feathers scatter across the lawn
red specks glisten wet grass thick with
dandelions.
                  the door to the coop is ajar.

beyond this    flight    thick rows of pine

dead limbs scratch and snap

                                               heart slows
deeper in the woods     skittish deer bed down
within the rectangle of a toppled sugarhouse
bucket rust.

                        pick up a brick and the wet
rotting leaf smell it holds down rises

the cold mass fills small hands.

an earthworm writhes in the vacancy
reddish centipedes scatter

a potato bug rolls in the palm.






About the Poet:
Charlie Malone recently returned to the Midwest to occupy a house in the woods outside a small town home to a not-exactly-small university, Ferris State. Malone studied literature and writing at Kent State and Colorado State and liked it just fine. He is grateful to all his students, teachers, colleagues, his wife, and the the kind editors who see something worthwhile in his work. Charlie's writings can be found in or are forthcoming with The Dunes Review, Phoebe, The Laurel Review, as well as the anthology A Poetic Inventory of Rocky Mountain National Park. 


About the Sound of Sugar:
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.

Saturday, October 25, 2014

The Sound of Sugar....Steve Langan



THE MIDWEST

I remember this old guy at the bar
where I worked gestured toward a girl
seated with friends at a round table
and said, You really need to learn to pause,
study the small of a woman’s back,
the parallel lines subtly curving upward—
are her shoulders little shouts or whispers?—
and her neck, slightly untuned, does it plead?—
to know how best to begin to pursue her.
But I was mainly interested in scoring then,
in showing you how many bottles I could
hold aloft in the dim light, and getting
and staying loaded for days at a time.

It’s rude to talk too much about yourself.
That’s what we learn here in the Midwest.
Days are numbered, we ask you to contribute
to the bottom line, to catch one another
in your sullen reproaches, crashing swoons,
make it look easy these next squalid hours.
Some little nitpickers claim we’re improving.
But we can’t all be angels of mercy or pain,
hunting and gathering, failing and building,
saving nothing for later, sleeping it all off.



About the Poet:
Steve Langan was born in Milwaukee and raised in Omaha. He earned degrees from the University of Nebraska and the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Langan is the author of Freezing (2001), Notes on Exile and Other Poems (2005), Meet Me at the Happy Bar (2009), and What It Looks Like, How It Flies (2013).




About the Sound of Sugar:
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.

Sunday, August 17, 2014

The Sound of Sugar....Natalia TreviƱo


Tortilla Skins

In the hot light of your kitchen, ‘Uelita, you showed me how to
press the thick dough against your popping, aluminum table. Your
hands the size of the tortillas to come, willing the mass to open
as soft disk. My hands too small to maneuver, to stretch over it,
to pull the dry powder in. I was fifteen and knew you were happy.
Years after ‘Buelito had died, you a new kind of woman. Certain eyes.
Laughing, traveling, playing cards. Able to wake and say no, to skip
the heat of the day to cook the midday meal. Bake a cake instead, at
night. Crochet and smoke at the same time. Speak up around men.
Accept a small glass of beer. The dough as cool as your hands, your
red fingernails disappearing into the ball. Would you remarry? I
ask. You are quick to answer. Yes, it is ugly to live alone. Your fingers
have memorized this motion, this touch. All I can think is how the
wives in Mexico flail in sick waters, in tired, wakeful oceans, choppy
white crests salting their faces, silenced and gasping by the slap of
spray. Romantic novella endings kneaded into the eyes and ears of
daughters, spiteful neighborhood chisme, the sealing orders from
men, sons, brothers, husbands. The lines on your face, Uelita, deep
like the folds of the dough in your hands. The portraits in your
living room, bridal framed faces, faint as shells at the end of flat
beach, stripped of color by the brine of dry sunlight, waiting for
the tide to soak them, turn them, or swallow them. Bone exposed at the
back of the neck, you bend to your yes. And we press our tortilla
skins to the heat, their faces down, to cook them.




About the Poet:

Born in Mexico City, Natalia grew up in Texas where her mother taught her Spanish and Bert and Ernie gave her lessons in English. Natalia has won several awards for her poetry and fiction including the 2004 Alfredo Moral de Cisneros Award, the 2008 Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Prize and the 2012 Literary Award from the Artist Foundation of San Antonio. Currently, Natalia is an assistant professor of English at Northwest Vista College where she works with students of all levels.



About the Sound of Sugar:
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

The Sound of Sugar....Vidhu Aggarwal


umbilical with titles from Vidhu Aggarwal on Vimeo.


Humpadori Umbilical Cord Friend

Euphoria:
I arrive, singly—
prizing

the belly to unfuzz
the static orchestra,
to expand the warm feelings, play jump rope!

A neon pulse—a dimple—wanders
in
and out on you—

Lickety split. Spit and lick
the seal.
Close your eyes. And all the shine will migrate there:

lubing the tube, where the oxygen bells and surges,

ripening incidence, wings,
and miscellaneous
appendages.

Worlds-a-rama lotus out
of your skin and hinges. Soft
Camelots

peep and spore. A door opens.
You’re adored.

You’re another Venus

Hottentot, Venus with fur. It’s almost a dream:
You can always be more than you are—
Since you’re more than you want to be.

I’m your live feed
of nerves dangling, attached and rhyming, going to seed.

If you pluck the grub-end, I might bleed
horizons,

a free-form history, but never free.




About the Poet:

Vidhu Aggarwal grew up in New Orleans, Louisiana and Sugar Land Texas, and currently lives and teaches in central Florida. Her poetry and video are a mash-up of cultural forms such as Bollywood, Star Trek, video games, internet porn, anime, minstrel shows, and tourist attractions. Her poems can be found in Sugar House Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Juked, Nimrod, PANK, desi-lit, and interlope among others. Readings and videos are available at the website
www.vidhu-aggarwal.squarespace.com. She is the found editor of SPECS, a journal of arts and culture with issues on Toys, The Perverse, and Homuncular Flexibility – www.specsjournal.org.



About the Sound of Sugar:
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

The Sound of Sugar....Kevin McLellan


There's Hard Light and Soft Light

everyday. The same church van

driver insistently honks
for the same elderly lady

dressed for God. My open

3rd floor window faces
the street. The sidewalk

dug up. Now it appears

the same young mouse
I released last week is under

the neck of a red wine bottle

in the recycling bin. Bring it
outside again. Runs clumsily

toward the liquor store.

The bright yellow sign. Yesterday
a man ran out of there

and got hit by a taxi. As the driver

argued with a witness
the man lying conscious across

the yellow lines. Only his left arm

moved. Caressing the bumper
as he looked blankly into the sky.




About the Poet:
Kevin McLellan lives in Cambridge, MA, and sometimes teaches poetry workshops at URI. He is the author of the chapbook Round Trip, a col- laborative series of poems with numerous women poets. Kevin has recent or forthcoming poems in journals including: American Letters & Commentary, Barrow Street, Colorado Review, Kenyon Review Online, Sixth Finch, Sugar House Review, Western Humanities Review, Witness, and numerous others.




About the Sound of Sugar:
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Sugar House Review / Poet Hillary Gravendyk Win Inclusion in 2015 Pushcart Prize Anthology


Independent poetry magazine Sugar House Review is thrilled to announce the inclusion of Hillary Gravendyks poem Your Ghost in The Pushcart Prize XXXIX: Best of the Small Presses Anthology (2015 edition). The editors of Sugar House Review nominated the poem, which originally appeared in the magazines ninth issue, Fall/Winter 2013. Most work published in Sugar House Review is submitted by unsolicited poets, but Gravendyk was solicited in early 2013 based on the strength of her full-length collection, Harm (Omnidawn), which chronicled the poets struggles from a 2009 double lung transplant. A prolonged illness led to Gravendyks untimely death at the age of 35, in May of 2014.

Sugar House Review #9
Each year, small presses throughout the United States submit thousands of literary works (poetry, fiction, and nonfiction) for potential Pushcart Prize selection. Each press can nominate up to six pieces, and additional works are nominated by Pushcarts contributing editors. The Pushcart Prize XXXIX: Best of the Small Presses anthology received approximately 8,000 nominations, representing over 700 small presses. Inclusion in this anthology is an incredible honor for both the writer and the press which first published the work. The anthology should be available for purchase in the fall of 2015.

Founded in 2009, Sugar House Review is a semi-annual literary magazine that publishes poetry and reviews of books of poetry. It takes its name from the charming and pedestrian-friendly Sugar House neighborhood in Salt Lake City. This is Sugar House Reviews fourth Pushcart Prize, previous Pushcart inclusions include Paul Muldoons "Capriccio in E Minor for Blowfly and Strings, Patricia Smiths Laugh Your Troubles Away! and Carl Phillips Your Body Down in Gold. Work first appearing in Sugar House Review has also appeared in Verse Daily and Poetry Daily. Sugar House Review will celebrate its five-year anniversary with a deluxe, double edition in the winter of 2014.

Hillary Gravendyk, photo from UC Berkeley English
Hillary Gravendyk (19792014) was an Assistant Professor of English at Pomona College in Claremont, CA and a native of Washington State. Her poetry has appeared in journals such as American Letters & Commentary, The Bellingham Review, The Colorado Review, The Eleventh Muse, Fourteen Hills, MARY, 1913: A Journal of Forms, Octopus Magazine, Tarpaulin Sky and most recently, Sugar House Review. Her chapbook, The Naturalist, was published by Achiote Press in 2008; and her full-length collection, Harm, came out from Omnidawn in 2012. She leaves behind many devoted colleagues, friends, family, and beautiful poems. 

The Pushcart Prize: Best of the Small Presses anthology series, named among the most influential projects in the history of American publishing by Publishers Weekly, is the most honored literary project in America. Since 1976, hundreds of presses and thousands of writers of short stories, poetry, and essays have been represented in its annual collections. Each year, most of the writers and many of the presses are new to the series. The Pushcart Prize has been a labor of love and independent spirits since its founding. Its legacy is assured by donations to its Fellowships endowment.

Sugar House Review would like to offer immense gratitude to Benjamin Burrill, Gravendyks surviving spouse. Without Benjamins support, inclusion in the Pushcart Prize Anthology would not be possible.

If you would like more information about any of the information contained herein, please contact Nathaniel Taggart: editors@sugarhousereview.com.