AWP Wrap

This is it. That table.


Mathias. Tony Robinson's lady. Adam. At the Effing Reading.


Joshua Marie and Richard Greenfield.


Betsy Wheeler. Mathias. Adam.


Tiny Adam at the Lit Reading.


Tiny Matt at the Lit Reading.


Me. I killed, I'm told. I was too nervous to know. But it sounded good from what I could tell.


Me again. My banter stance.


Joshua. Katie in the background.


Mathias. Matt. Mathias is pinching Matt's armpit.


I'm not buying what Brandon is selling.


Josh. Adam. Mathias.


Brandon. My leg.


Brandon pining through the window over Austin.


Mathias. Adam. The back of Tony Robinson's head.

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AWP wrap-ups are the best. And full of linkety-links. My camera broke at mid-Austin trip. So, I'll may pirate more pics for you later.

The people are what make the conference. I love people and I roomed with the best of them: Brandon Shimoda, Adam Clay and Mathias Svalina. It was so good to share such a small space with them, one toilet and one shower. You should've seen all four of us poetry nerds manuevering for slumber space on that little double bed. It was precious I'm sure. We spent much of our time hanging with Matt Henriksen, who I have never met before, his wife Katie, and Joshua Marie Wilkinson, who I have met before as he read at the Clean Part, and forever friend Tony Tost, who I love dearly, etc.

Wednesday night, Brandon, Adam, Mathias, Joshua and I had a few drinkypoos and discussed strategy. On Thursday, the same group with Katie and Matt hit this great Cuban restaurant. Terrific cuban sandwich. Soggy fries. We passed by Anne Boyer and K. Silem Mohammed. Oh. Hello. This town was drenched in poets. If it would have blown up, the next decade of poetry would have been pretty weak. Noah Eli Gordon (who was not there) would have cleaned up on even more poetry contests. Later, we hit the Effing party. Better readers, in total, than the LIT party, I think, but they were a little more difficult to hear. So, I hung back and chatted it up, met a few people I've always wanted to meet: Reb Livingston, Jen Tynes, Nick Twemlow, Joshua Edwards, Anthony Robinson, Julie Dill, Tom Christopher (I love this guy), et al. Joshua, Mathias, Matt, Katie, Adam, Brandon, Betsy Wheeler, Katie and I went back to the hotel room and had this killer conversation while kicking back a few more brews and passing the laptop around. We pulled out some phrases from the conversation and made a brilliant long poem. Some of the best lines in town. I'm not kidding. Some of you mag editors will find this in your submit box under a pseudonym, which I will not disclose, and you will take it. And you will later nominate it for a pushcart. That night, in the room, good lines floating through the Hilton air, was a highlight--top 2.

As for the other highlight: the LIT reading. Before the LIT reading Friday night, we went to the Action Books reading. This is one of my favorite new presses. It may have broken into the top five already (top 6), at such an early age. One of my favorite younger poets killed. Lara Glenum. Yes! She read the poem from the broadsheet we did (from Octopus #7) and her "Hairiest Room" which I've read in her book about 20 times out loud to myself, wishing I had written it. Thank you Lara, for it all. From there, I walked with Danielle Pafunda to our LIT reading. I have long wanted to chat with her. It was good. The walk was too short. But her part of the reading was wonderful. I was in a trance. Also got to see a new favorite Chris Tonelli read, my favorite being the poem with a butthole in it. I won't repeat it. You should buy his book. And I got to hear Shanna Compton and Laurel Snyder and Matt Henriksen and Adam Clay too. Lovely readers. Thank you Justin for setting this all up. My part of the reading went over pretty well. I read in a jar of nerves but could hear a few hoots and hollas in the muffled background. Claps. I think I am best when I am nervous. It comes off as hilarious deadpan, to quote a few other bloggers. Anyway, some people I really wanted to hear me read were in that audience (Tony T hasn't heard me since our undergrad days). I gained some confidence reading up there, in front of the rock wall, in front of all those people. A lot of poets I truly admire, at the reading and at the fair, told me those poems are deserving of a press. I believe them. They are deserving. So.

Our bookfair home was the buzz. Octopus shared a table with Typo and Copper Nickle. And a few other wares were sold from our hub as well: Justin Marks' Kitchen Press, Matt and Katie's Cannibal, Brandon Shimoda's Pines. Mathias and I sold all 4 sets of 16 broadsheets (see earlier post - and check later: I'll give you a link to the Octopus Books site we're working on which will still sell two of the broadsheets which are not limited by signature and number). Shook some important hands and made a few tentative plans for Clean Part readers. And we did a good job of getting the word out about #8. Should be a good selection of mannies to read from in April. Oh, man. Oh, man. Looking forward. You should be too.

I missed some of my old peeps from Montana, but I met some new ones. Hit it off well with Nabil. And the rest. I had lunch with them. A chipotle burger. Brandon, fill these names in. And I hate Jake Adam York couldn't be there. Teague and the rest of us did well with the Copper Nickles. And Donald Revell. Hated that he couldn't be there to sign the broadsheets.

It is good to be home. I missed A and it'll be good to catch up with her. This is UNL's spring break. Lots of homework to do. Papers to grade. Mail these broadsheets off. I have a notebook full of poem ideers that could keep me up all night, every night this week. And lots of books. I'm going to list them all in the next post. I need to give my knuckles a rest first. Ok.