Tag Archives: NOÖ Weekly

Best Thing I’ve Read Today: Kelin Loe in NOÖ Weekly

2 Sep

Recently, that old scoundrel Nick Sturm put together his own version of a NOÖ Weekly, testing the flex and the stretch of us all with a hunk of long poems and series.

And there I saw this intense oomph from Kelin Loe. It goes like a mighty wildfire. Wow. It made me walk laps and sweat. That’s a good thing. Kelin has a great way of talking is the best I can say it.

clydesdales , hot dogs and dollar shots  —  meet me here OR no oven mitts on fire in here ! ! !

i will make these lasagnas in 15 minutes wearing nothing but those panties !

tracing my umbrella now. how the rib meets the rod is unclear .

penises hanging everywhere and nobody is worried but me   !


! ! !


somebody please quit making out in the library it sounds like eating stew !! and please tell me if i need to poop or otherwise —

been eating cereal like its meal so much corn and so much time to eat the corn and grind grind and i believe you followed the trail of sugar to find me yesterday so

HERE    I    AM    , HONEY POT ! ! !

i keep opening the internet like there is food in there  .


! ! !


before my husband was my husband i learned that men don’t wipe after number one  .

and, as an aviator , how do you feel about my relationship with my husband ? ??

can you or can you not see it ? ?

please is it made of MATTER HOW much can it mean ? ?

banana bag !   NOW !!  and a middle-aged man to tell me FACTS  .


! ! !

Caroline Cabrera told us all about Kelin and her goodness back in this interview, remember? If we weren’t paying attention yet, now’s the time, okay?

Check out more great sprawling stuff from Mike Krutel, Matthew Yeager, S.E. Smith, and more in that issue, too!


from Northern Lights (The Fire Sermon) by Andrew Hughes (NOÖ Weekly)

6 Jun

Holy cow I read this thing and I might ramble on and on as to how this chirps a perfect circle of Feeling, how it is sentences attached to sentences digging into itself and I will do no thing other than let this poem speak its own self, be its own self. OH PLZ READ THIS IS A NECESSARY POEM TO FEEL TODAY.

Her voice went on & on


blue, with kinds of little stars.
I have been drunk too much

to be this loved. Exhilaration brought
new change, newer terrors. You

surrounded yourself with birds & planted
a marigold in the pot, a

flower thought to be fadeless. I’ve
hidden my notebooks behind a cupboard.

For the first time I breathed
in a place where I felt


the expansive but orderly life that
I love. Nothing is to be

rejected in fear or in horror.