Tag Archives: La Petite Zine

La Petite Zine

27 Apr

The new issue of La Petite Zine is up, and it’s chock full of good stuff.

Like this gem from Brooklyn Copeland, for instance:

To find the dagger a blessing

daggers find us tripping
onto praise—
           please

stop singing mine—
           April’ s
                god’s a gun

I get the irony here, of course, praising Brooklyn’s poem “Straddling the Ides,” a poem that asks, “please // stop singing mine.” (Sorry, Brooklyn.)

Or this one from Anne Marie Rooney, titled “Film Mind“:

This is an idea,
Let it holler open in your skin, let it let
My mastery in, let it out.

I’m off the ‘net for now, making a short trip to Jacksonville, but I hope you make our way over to LPZ to read these poems in full and to check out the rest of this issue–you won’t be disappointed.

Rob MacDonald at La Petite Zine

6 Apr

Take a moment on this fine Friday afternoon (windy here in central Florida, but fine nonetheless) to travel over to check out Rob MacDonald’s poem “The First Girl” over at La Petite Zine.

(That’s right, as in Rob MacDonald from Sixth Finch.)

Here’s just a taste to whet your appetite:

When I say that she was the greatest,
I mean that she resembled a circus.

Ghost Story by Karin Gottshall

19 Oct

DANG

This poem compares to a pat on the cheek, I think. As each pat adds up, each one a similar softness, but still each tap is unique. This poem does that with the dash of narrative, dash of reflection, all good pretty words. In the end, my cheek hurts a little, but also, it’s warm, and I’m glad I didn’t stop it.

OH AND THAT ENDING: THERE IS A LITTLE SELF-DEPRECATING FACE PAT/SLAP THAT IS REAL COOL.

But seriously, I like poems most when they do stuff like this:

How long
have I lived in this house? Long enough
to have worn out my boots, long
enough to have used up the vinegar.
I don’t remember very much
from our first autumn here—just
the sound the wind made in the wall
before we had it fixed. We all
have to moan sometimes. We all
need some attention.