Nate East

Tag: poetry

cloud mist who lift over the trees and bridge cables

A writeup I did of a Reginald Dwayne Betts poem was posted today at The Rumpus- check it out here! Thanks a bunch to poetry editor Brian Spears and everyone else at The Rumpus.

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Last week I finished Happy Baby by Stephen Elliott:


which was shocking and depressing and almost impossible to put down.  I think I read it in two or three total sittings, each of which ran much longer than I had planned, and I was non-trivially late to at least one dinner because I completely lost track of time while reading the book.  Super direct and raw writing, very intense story, generally great all around.  Go grab a copy!  I’m also excited to read Elliott’s latest release, The Adderall Diaries, once the paperback comes out.

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After weeks of listening to their music online via their myspace, I finally bought the new Blessure Grave album on CD and have been listening to it ever since, including, in fact, right now, and it’s awesome and ya should definitely check their stuff out!  Lots of free streaming tracks here.

and days grow longer steadily

Here is a quote from my favorite poem that I have read in some time:

One afternoon Rashad
broke the collar of midnight,
streaks of a Norfolk street
running down
his face.

from R. Dwayne Betts, “Dear Augusta,” The Collagist, January 2010.

The full poem is here.  Check it out!

Betts’ website is here.

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I’ve got four short story drafts that I’m editing right now in preparation for submitting to some new journals.  Each one is ~1,500 words or so.  If you’re interested in checking them out, let me know!

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tenderloin is the night blog is always rad.

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Almost done reading Day Out of Days by Sam Shepard:

which is sprawling and beautiful, hits you very hard, and is often crushingly sad.  Really powerful writing in the form of short stories, really-short-stories, and poetry.  Since I am especially into stuff about the desert, it doesn’t hurt that lots of this is set in the Southwest.  Worth checking out at yer library!

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In case you haven’t seen it yet, Mr. Sam Owen shot a ton of photos at a bunch of art openings in SF a few weeks ago, and posted a show writeup as well as tons of snaps at Fecal Face Dot Com.  Check it out here!

rattling heaters and reverb and murky cold night without

Am super hyped; some of my writing just went up at a couple of hella cool journals!

First, a poem appears in the first issue of So and So Magazine, a new project from the organizers of the So and So reading series and publishing imprint in Raleigh, NC. The other work in the issue is super rad, and the web design is nightmarishly cool/classy as well; check it out here!

Second! A short story of mine was published in the latest issue of the always-hardcore Dogzplot Flash Fiction, alongside some really killer other work. Definitely check out the new issue! I think my piece is the longest one I’ve had published so far… which might mean… something.

In other news, the performance-art/print-making/gnar-event-planning collective known as ASTEROID HEAD ART CLUB just put up a rad new website!

I first heard about these dudes through Sam Owen’s photo-essay of their July 4th art-happening out in the wilderness, AKA Summer Camp:

Definitely check out the whole photo set here… pretty insane.

There’s been lots of other stuff going on too – new music – new shows – new books, etc, but I gotta run, so will leave ya with this cassette which is playing right now:

Robedoor – Raiders . such great psych/drone wildness.  This one in particular is sold out, but look for upcoming stuff at their ill LA label, Not Not Fun!

…speaking of which, can’t wait for the new Magic Lantern LP… okay really going now!

unedited spur-of-the-moment 12/11/2009

OKAY so have a couple hours before going out into that rainy night so going to try this (again): just off-the-cuff kind-of write-what’s-in-my head.  Haha (?)  Here goes:

Who performed with a scarf over his face and mouth to obscure it? the scarf?  I hid behind a mic stand I’d modified with some cardboard I bought at Walgreens so it was a big old screen with some google-imaged Celtic knot drawings and Shakespeare lines scrawled on it – worth that extra money for the extra-thick Sharpies and the twenty dollar stereo headphones to play Def Jux or industrial noise records on the freezing walk over to the event-friendly bookstores and little literary bars.  Ultra-slashed copy of The Faerie Queen in the back pocket – honestly I had hoped for years that these jeans would rip enough so the author’s name was revealed when I was just chillin waiting for busses or riding my bike – and then it finally happened! like “one day I woke up and.”

And on that subject busses just run forever – there’s the owl and then the night owl and then the dead of night owl and then the that-new-moss-record owl and then it’s pretty much morning and the five o’clock rolls around again and you can ride this shit forever.  For like a dollar!  What is it about that repetitive electric riff.  I shadow boxed a little on the hill-climb to the yuppie shinto monastary.  Anyone else heard the clickety synthesizer alien noises that been popping up around Mission street in the early evenings?  On the under-construction sidewalks round the block from the noodle place that’s only open in the dead of night and has no door or lights or chairs to sit on so every order’s to go from a faceless chef in the night behind the counter with the howls of steam and occasional flash of cooking knives in the thick darkness?

That’s the street with the Turkish cafe!  With the scaffolding over the sidewalks and the walkway supports made out of green pipes that are always tattered with flyers like fell-off pigeon feathers!  You seen that bank that just got built there?  It’s like from the wachovia merger or something?  The front’s built out of raw pine or something so the damn thing creaks and drips like a ski lodge.  Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s like a porch or a wooden-beam balcony and a firebowl no doubt

Ravine camp with crates arranged in a half moon

I saw the satyr eyelashes and forearm chalk
and gold rings through his nostrils so I asked
Did you travel here from the swamp village
because I stayed there once, in the wooden houses
your people built above the mire.

I also recognized the cloth of his scarf
the purple and orange yarn I saw knotted
on scrub oak and bayonet cactus in the foothills.
They traveled when the snow melted and the grass
was not yet folded by sleeping deer.

some news

No big updates this week for this site, but I’m continuing to submit stuff to websites/journals that’s mostly new flash fiction (really short stories.)  Shoot me an email if you’re interested in checking out stuff that’s been submitted- there’s tons of it!

As for news, there’s a really great new post on the Poetry Foundation’s blog, Harriet.  It’s written by Edwin Torres and is just hella beautiful and cool.  Check it out here.

Artist and photographer Sam Owen recently took a road trip, which he documented with a bunch of new photos on his website.  If you haven’t yet, be sure to check out everything in the photography section of his site; my favorites are the instax essays, which are each shot around a certain theme.  Hella cool.