* * *
In our never-ending quest to make chapbook publishing sexy again, Atticus/Finch
is pleased to announce the release of its third volume: Tanya Brolaski’s _The
Daily Usonian_.

People, this one’s HOT! If you purchase only one chapbook this year
by a younger writer, do yourself (and us!) a favor and make it
_The Daily Usonian_. One part Sapphic delirium, three parts Delphic
train wreck, you simply won’t know what hit you, and you won’t want
it to stop! Brolaski’s first book stutters and stomps through Virgil,
Dante, and Katherine Phillips only to run head-on into Buffy’s “must
see vampires.” Here, “everything(’s) gone to helenback,” and
there’s an arrow through the heart to prove it. Brolaski’s a harbinger
of seriously catatonic states that WILL NOT disappoint.

Take note:

“my business is circumference”

I dreamt your Twinness.
There is an absolute
Sphere whence you fell.
Step ample, Emerald, fixed
To the spot
I saw you.
Trust my Curiosity
To Brook no further Argument,
And fortify my Gut w/ nearest
Heaven. And though the Lofty
Treaty stand,
I shall not wreck it.
Though delinquent Love
Is a force we hazard at.


amorosa erranza

All my dark hardiments begin: so furious and so fell. All disarrayed
in Love I began to speak of Mariners. And when I saw the grove divided
into double parts, which ways I took, diversely can I tell but can no
ways devise. So in I entered was, and marveled at the wandering way.
Although my leman, I am a wondrous doubt—tell me, ere I die of love—which
way to turn? Your mouth is like a crescent moon your teeth are like
tombstones, and all along the way even the labyrinths shuddered. Where
can I go to powder my nose safely? Your address makes me feel intimate,
yet I undergo the strangest beguilements, I become incredulous.

Stephanie Young writes of _The Daily Usonian_:

Here it is, all the news from the other side that you’ve been dying to
hear,whichever side you happen to be on momentarily. For there are no
sides here—no high, no low, no painted flats, no traveling through time—
instead, a poet and a poetry of immediate, endless repetition. In this
eternal present of thought, that is, style, I mean, scholarship, “this
crapshoot idée fixe and its yahoo mistress,” you’ll need each fine hair
that lines the path to your inner eat, that piece of anatomy that assists
when you listen to music or discern the twilight from the twilight. It’s
a derailed algebra or myriad substitutions, the kind that requires second
sight as the poet iterates her vegetable love, the length of California,
the length of her arm, the cult of sadness. _The Daily Usonian_ is not
afraid to use the word in the definition of the word.

And Brent Cunningham:

My dear readers of blurbs, what does it mean when a book ranges so far
across differing language systems? Not everything in the world has an
idea under it, but here the argument is being made, in part how significance,
in the sense of illumination, must be found _wherever_. In these poems it
is not the era or even precisely the context that matters, but the ability
of a perceiver to pluck out, to remain receptive and flexible, to listen
beyond conditions. Brolaski’s poet-perceiver sifts through ages of syntax,
Dante and Buffy become contemporaries, Counts and Ladies travel overland
to fairs again, and it is Feeling—revived out of its status as sentiment—
that serves as her Beatrice. “Not even the word love.” That is to say not the _word_, but its selection, its occurrence in a field of evident intelligence,
my dear readers of blurbs.

These chapbooks are only available via mail-order, and they’re only six bucks!

To order, please send well-concealed cash/check and a nice note to:

Michael Cross
Atticus/Finch Chapbooks
SUNY Buffalo
306 Clemens Hall
Buffalo NY 14260-4610

Atticus/Finch is committed to publishing important new work in elegant,
affordable editions (even by poets’ standards). This book sports a
“Balboa Blue” cover, on which you’ll find Sappho, jilted in love, jumping
from the rocks to the sea foam below.

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