#benjamin landry

[stuckstupor-blog]

Imagine the heat generated by Daphne transformed into laurel and you can begin to imagine what the electron feels in renouncing its steady orbit. The new body is a space humming like a sacristy or an autoclave, its language both particle and wavelength Daphne was, of course, an ordinary girl: desire not especially volatile. She, too, forgot her terror,nodded off in the glow of a star appearing to explode for billions of years. The rest is medical history, the ‘H’ off the interstate ramp. How the wound of her new life healed. How the heat shimmer shook her vision afterward.

 H Hydrogen by Benjamin Landry

[therumpus]

They blow up strips of the geoplast and take things, coal, and crush things, gravel. They do this during the long nights and hooked together so that it is an endless night […] Products say to do that. The rock moved to here, it became us […]

In Fire Break by George Albon, reviewed by Benjamin Landry

[therumpus]

mammalian diving reflex ___water must be ice-cold ___some people survive if time began we would do it again the lungs two oars in the middle of the ocean

From "[Peace] one mystery of the breath" in Peace by Gillian Conoley, reviewed by Benjamin Landry

[omnidawn]

In Transfer of Qualities, Ronk’s project is one more of synthesis than innovation. She acknowledges debts to Eliot, Pound, Moore and James rather directly, and the concluding bibliography runs to a page and a half. She is a poet who has come to terms with the crushing weight of preceding scholarship. Rather than take issue with her forebears, she determines to live in the world, experience both the profound and chimerical powers of things. If she sets the goal of navigating a series of tested beliefs, she does so with the condition of preserving and developing her own voice, her own rigorously informed selfhood.

--Benjamin Landry

[therumpus]

The majority opinion was against My “vacation” my “shadow” my “vacation,” When will I learn to be the author of my own invention? This from the spider descending the shade

A snipper from Rag by Julie Carr, reviewed at The Rumpus by Benjamin Landry.

[therumpus]

Last night is so often where things begin/ Maybe because I saw you on Facebook Earlier in the day making out with A friend’s status/ or because I had been Thinking about calligraphy Jackson Pollock was my pretext/ really he was

From the poem “The Security Level Is Yellow," in Fady Joudah's Alight, which Benjamin Landry reviews at The Rumpus.

[emoboysandgirls]