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Prose 94

Wendy Cannella: This Fierce Life:      An Interview with Laura McCullough

October 26, 2016 by PBQ

WC: In his article “Ode to Joisey” (New York Times: April 27, 2003), Robert Strauss talks about the great many accomplished poets to emerge from the Garden State. I wonder what it is about New Jersey that breeds poetry, or maybe even embodies it. Much of your work seems to try to get at the […]

Filed Under: Contributors 94, Issue 94, Prose, Prose 94 Tagged With: Contributors 94, Laura McCullough, Prose, Prose 94, Wendy Cannella

Wendy Cannella: Finding the Body:      on Laura McCullough’s Jersey Mercy

October 26, 2016 by PBQ

Part empathy, part ferocity in subject and voice, a living, breathing language bobs along like an electric jellyfish —fearless, vital, often urban in the poems in McCullough’s new collection Jersey Mercy. Immersed in various tensions—the sort that McCullough has been teasing out for a decade— these poems seem to be uttered aloud as they unfold. […]

Filed Under: Contributors 94, Issue 94, Prose, Prose 94 Tagged With: Contributors 94, Laura McCullough, Prose, Prose 94, Wendy Cannella

Pat Willard: Swans

October 25, 2016 by PBQ

Clare turns seventeen, three months before me, and when she said all she wanted was an adventure, I thought of the creek that runs through the woods behind my house. Swimming the length of it is the one thing I’ve done that she hasn’t. I couldn’t think of anything more adventurous to give her. We’ll […]

Filed Under: Contributors 94, Issue 94, Prose, Prose 94 Tagged With: Contributors 94, Pat Willard, Prose, Prose 94

Anastacia Renee: The City

October 25, 2016 by PBQ

(1) the city sits on itself like a tired woman after a long day of being black. it never excuses itself for crushing us with her weight and we don’t complain…after all, we are alive, we are drinking, we are beautiful in the rain because rain makes us blurry and we don’t have to talk […]

Filed Under: Contributors 94, Issue 94, Prose, Prose 94 Tagged With: Anastacia Renee, Contributors 94, Prose, Prose 94

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