love

1976: This cursed bloodline begat me. Cries at cold air. The beginnings of pain. 1979: Health freak mother teaches me that soda pop and the red cherries on top of…

Image Credit: Nick Fewings   Just before Christmas in 2006, I met my one true love in the most unlikely, modern way. My best buddy Rae had helped me onto…

My Girl’s Green Jacket by Mary Meriam Headmistress Press, 2018 108 pages / Headmistress   Every time one attempts to categorize or pigeonhole Mary Meriam’s poetry, one comes up against “it…

Baby, I Don’t Care by Chelsey Minnis Wave Books, 2018 272 pages / Wave   The question is endlessly familiar to poetry but often less prevalent in the work of poet Chelsey…

WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…

The messages stream in, from friends, acquaintances, strangers. “Thought of you when I heard the news.” I am grateful for their thoughtfulness and ashamed at the attention. The well wishes…

Five years ago, my best friend C died. She was twenty. She was a poet. She once told me that everyone has not only a Soul Mate Person, but also…

Appropriately enough, I finished reading Paul Cohen’s The Glamshack in the middle of a heatwave that temporarily turned Eugene, Oregon into Memphis, Tennessee. My wife and I had traveled to…

I love beauty beauty beauty in writing. Updike, Nabokov. Also songwriters like Neko Case, Fiona Apple, Sufjan Stevens…people who write about both ordinary and strange things in gorgeous, heartbreaking ways. That’s what we’re going for at WhiskeyPaper. Also, we want anyone/everyone to be able to read and enjoy—from people who teach writing to people who may not even read more than one book a year.

The choice to buy the 30 pounds of peaches was sudden. We had traveled to Colorado to hike a few mountains, drink some microbrews, eat some smothered burritos—and hopefully—buy some…

Honestly if time is an illusion, as we all know it to be, and the ultimate victory of the internet is “collage,” then I guess it’s OK to sum up our influences, aesthetic, and mission as collage. Not that we aspire to be the internet. But when considering a new title, we take the entire back catalog into account and think, “Hmm, maybe we could use a smudge more of something like this over here” or “Oh, it’d be nice to have a little something like that” and upon that book’s release it foregrounds that aspect of the press, but soon enough it recedes to an equal relative weighting to the rest of the back catalog and contributes to the collage.

It’s weird. Breaking up after building three years of a life together. A beautiful break up. Goodbyes traded at the Oakland airport, through tears, arms wrapped around each other, already…

I remember a couple of trips I made from Grand Central to New Rochelle; it felt like nothing could go wrong in my life. It felt like I really had…

In a recent interview with Dazed and Confused Magazine that is both disturbing and provocative in the events it describes, Shia LaBeouf candidly said the following about critics and why…