joanne burns

When Poets Write Prose: Daniela Brozek Cordier Reviews Recent Collections by Joanne Burns, Stephanie Green and Jane Williams

This is a review of three collections of poetry by women, two published in 2019, and one, Jane Williams’s Parts of the Main, in 2017.

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you cup your hands. hold and press them to your face. waiting for something to appear – a voice, an image suggesting what to do next – like a child hiding her face in the warmth of her own hands. …

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don’t think i’ll hear a fly buzz when i die more likely a voice booming instructions on where to queue for the official passage there being a jam in the tunnel some spirits rushing to cross the river others determined …

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Lee Cataldi: New Poems with an Introduction by Joanne Burns

In this selection of poems, Lee Cataldi writes in a spare, lean, direct way, steered by an aesthetic of restraint. She often uses internal spacing and short stanzas to re-enforce her measure. A sense of loss inhabits a number of the poems.

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there’s no point to owning a country if you can’t look after your own hair the tv burped the weeks broke up like packets of biscuits we swept through them on the way to the bus stop holidays were full …

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although we might have chewed on the same page we never lived on the same continent my new revised atlas confirms that i am not of the same stock cube as you i filched those cubes to add flavour to …

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Review Short: Joanne Burns’s Brush

Brush, the latest collection of poetry from Joanne Burns consists of layers juxtaposed in a profuse and generous abundance, styles not fused so much as flipped over and filed into an album as much as an anthology. What may appear to be random sections and selections on closer inspection consist of a gathering that implies a duty of care, assembling shared cultural and oneiric artefacts stripped of extraneous affects and putting on record that which is weird and wonderful and way out there.

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world politics gone queasy the oligarch skates through reclaimed savannah in his alopecia jumpsuit, improvisation shrewd as a hoodwinker monk − time to hoist the vinyl archived at the alpine sanatorium, all night jam sessions over lake bassoon; eventually treaties …

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travel in the paganini canoe and you’ll never become punctual feed that sort of salad to your favorite shark and it will be pissing beetroot, and set off an alarm i finally located your power of attorney doc [so unreadable …

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the reticent comic sprawls across the numb linoleum considering a loud tennis career pow-whoosh-slam but no one loves me anymore; delphic teapots leak like hushed puppies who believes in loud prophecies these days mountain tops prefer to sleep like blank …

Posted in 45.0: SILENCE | Tagged

it grows on you

you lift a hand to sweep away the cobwebs a rubber spider is about to infiltrate your best eye so entertain it with sweet valentines the people in the park may still be there even if you dare not think …

Posted in 42.0: NO THEME II | Tagged


i. equity bring a plate to the global table brands are set to translate into something more than sulkiness tim tams will soon greet the aurora borealis the farm gate is not as rubbery as it looks the bone density …

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