One summer I went blueberry picking with my mom for the day, and when we got home I ate too many berries and got a wicked stomach ache. Then my mom had to cancel the dinner reservations she had made for my dad's birthday. So I ruined my dad's birthday. I blame blueberries. This comment has nothing to do with anything.
Let's just go ahead and say it: We Are Not AVerse is an online poetry collective. Now that the pretentious part is over, here's the meat.
We are a handful of young writers - some poets, some prosers - who had the good fortune of convening in one city and sharing each other's company for a few glorious years. We are now dispersed, but hope to use this blog (collective!) to share our work with one another and maintain some part of that communal spirit (of collective responsibility to supporting each other as artists).
Each respective work, obviously, is the property of its writer. So read and enjoy, but be kind and ask if you'd like to use anything you read.
Lastly, if you are visiting, please feel free to comment and participate in our discussions on art, life, fast food, and anything else. Try to keep it constructive, but really: we want your feedback!
Questions, comments, or feedback that doesn't belong on the public web? That's ok! Contact Dinah Finkelstein or Tim DeMay, we are very nice.
Hi, Coo!
ReplyDeleteIs this some attempt to disprove my theory that they are the hardest poems to write? A strong effort.
One summer I went blueberry picking with my mom for the day, and when we got home I ate too many berries and got a wicked stomach ache. Then my mom had to cancel the dinner reservations she had made for my dad's birthday. So I ruined my dad's birthday. I blame blueberries. This comment has nothing to do with anything.
ReplyDeleteA good rule of thumb: 3 in the bucket, 1 in the mouth.
ReplyDeleteI like that the title is Hard Work, which gets me already tired, but then the next line is an exclamation!