Nicholas Charles

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This is 43…

from “All’s Normal Here” - 1985

Beings change… #susanhowe

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Oh, I am breaking. @poetryfoundation.bsky.social

Cavafy!

In all the years I’d spent amassing my modest library, it had never occurred to me that I might one day have to weigh a book against a piece of bread for my children.”

Currently reading A Truce That Is Not Peace by Miriam Toews. It is one of the best works I have read this year, heck, make that a while. Thanks to @typebooks for bring it to my attention!

Killing Stella

How to Be a Good Literary Citizen (in Seven Easy Steps) Last Sunday I spent hours at the Brooklyn Book Festival, a too rare occasion for me to pull myself away from the internet for an entire afternoon. As I looked around at the crowd on their way to pa…

My way of coping with all of the madness is focusing on what I can do to make my community a little bit stronger. So excuse me for all of the earnestness, but I wrote about ways we can all pitch in to support a thriving literary culture. lithub.com/how-to-be-a-...

Do the Damn Thing Already A Profanity Laden PSA

open.substack.com/pub/catherin...

We liberals are America!

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GABRIELLE BATES New Baroque Derangement I was conceived in a restless biome, a riot of wisteria. Unguarded. Bitch of blue. A woman pushed her tongue into my mouth and it was good weather. There were spirals, spirals at the heart as pure lasso—ice pure loss skipping liquid, straight to air I could and couldn't bare because I was and wasn't. Combing a lone shore there under the moonlit backwash of receding waves, all that grit in my gums and oceanscape's overlappings, I am telling you in that fading cyanic I saw your faces. In the sands. I saw. Every person I might have been or birthed I could not reach but I could see. A consciousness I'd once called mine clambering into a swan boat. And high above, and far around, the rope of air caught music's meat. I saw what seeing used to mean.

trying to force myself to share at least the occasional poem, now that I'm throwing new work against the walls. this one was published in Southern Indiana Review 🖤 I wrote it in a time when I had not really slept for many months and was going insane.

“A Good Samurai Will Parry the Blow”

From Simulacra and Simulation by Jean Baudrillard (If he was writing today, Trump would be on the list).

From Simulacra and Simulation by Jean Baudrillard #truth

From Simulacra and Simulation by Jean Baudrillard #truth

📖 @coppercanyonpress.bsky.social
#poetry #poetrycommunity #poems

It’s here!!! @vitcova.bsky.social first chapter book! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

I’ve been meaning read to @yararf.bsky.social for some time now…quite worth the wait 👌🏻🧠 #bookworm #bookish #bookstagrammer #bookstagram #book #reading

Excited to be teaching a class entirely on book reviewing. September 18, 4-5:30 PM EST. Replays available. Spots are limited. See you soon. x

mayacpopa.com/onlineclasse...

🤯 @andotherstories.bsky.social #bookstagram #bookstagrammer #books #book #bookworm #bookish

#thesealeychallenge day 6-8
“Desire is dead, long live desire.” @graywolfpress.bsky.social @sealeychallenge.bsky.social

It is a burning, a bloody nose, a wake-up call, a baring witness. @avidreaderpress.bsky.social

Day 3-5 of the #thesealeychallenge
“every poem is an occasion.”
#poetrycommunity #poetry

Devotion: A Generative Writing Session Saturday, August 9th 11am-12.30pm CT "Devotion is full of arrows." —Joanna Klink What is devotion? What are you devoted to? What do you want to be devoted to? This is a 1.5 hour generative session. ...

come write with me this Saturday, 11am-12.30pm CT. this is a generative writing session exploring the idea of devotion <3 no one turned away for lack of funds. sign up & more info at: bit.ly/devotiondropin

Day 1-2 of #poetry #poetrycommunity #thesealeychallenge

“The Sealey Challenge, at heart, is a big, raucous, joyful celebration of poetry.” —Laura Sackton

The celebration starts tomorrow!! Can't wait to kick off an amazing month of reading with the whole #SealeyChallenge community!

“The Sealey Challenge, at heart, is a big, raucous, joyful celebration of poetry.” —Laura Sackton

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