Harriet: News & Community
A literary blog about poetry and related news
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By Kenneth GoldsmithJune 14, 2007
Wonderful 5-7-5 syllable haikus comprised of snapshots of tombstones called "DieKu", mysteriously appearing on the streets of New York recently. Enigmatically penned by "Nick Beef - NYC" DieKu #1 Corona Brewer Noble Golden...
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By Kwame DawesJune 13, 2007
Where is the pulse of poetry, today? Is there a pulse? Is there any point in trying to find one? For a while I really felt that the pulse of...
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By Patricia SmithJune 13, 2007
What fun! I want to be sexy, cool and accessible too! So here's my very own pro-consumerist thingie! Thanks, Kenny! (You may notice that I don't touch as many things as...
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By Jeffrey McDanielJune 13, 2007
A few weeks ago Patricia talked about her coming up through the slam in Chicago, how that is where she emerged wholly as a writer and performer. That a writer...
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By Kenneth GoldsmithJune 12, 2007
With a discussion recently here involving Time Magazine's suggestion that "what poetry really needs is a writer who can do for it what Andy Warhol did for avant-garde visual art:...
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By Kenneth GoldsmithJune 12, 2007
First, my Motorola Alexandra Nemerov Nemerov constructed this poem by simply listing every brand she touched sequentially during a day, from the moment she woke up, until the moment she...
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By Kenneth GoldsmithJune 12, 2007
from Mon Catalogue Claude Closky Using a tactic similar to Nemerov's, Mon Catalogue is a complete listing of every possession Closky owns, which he then transcribed into first-person singular possessive catalogue-speak....
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By Kenneth GoldsmithJune 12, 2007
I'm no big fan of E-Poetry, but I do love code poetry. Here's a great example of code poetry by Lance Wakeling, who's been logging every word he types...
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By Patricia SmithJune 12, 2007
Kwame, I swear your life is just cooler than other people's. There you are, crisscrossing the landscape, being rescued and inspired by benevolent strangers, ruminating on the ultimate rightness of...
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By Rachel ZuckerJune 11, 2007
I think I will not write poems about the birth of my third son. I might be wrong, but I’d bet not. The birth itself was so real,...