wave books – Michigan Quarterly Review

wave books

Squirting Sriracha onto Everything: A Review of Michael Earl Craig’s “Woods and Clouds Interchangeable”

Early in Michael Earl Craig’s Woods and Clouds Interchangeable, forthcoming from Wave Books, there’s a poem that I would argue serves as key to reading the book—and Craig’s work overall. Specifically, it is the first stanza of “The Rabbit,” the collection’s third poem: I remember the spring when the rabbit with no ears showed up. […]

Squirting Sriracha onto Everything: A Review of Michael Earl Craig’s “Woods and Clouds Interchangeable” Read More »

Early in Michael Earl Craig’s Woods and Clouds Interchangeable, forthcoming from Wave Books, there’s a poem that I would argue serves as key to reading the book—and Craig’s work overall. Specifically, it is the first stanza of “The Rabbit,” the collection’s third poem: I remember the spring when the rabbit with no ears showed up.

Poems (1962–1997), by Robert Lax

These poems certainly elicit skepticism, but they are more than simple conceptual or design exercises. They have an oddly effective way of opening up. This is the sort of art you think you could easily make, but when you sit down to it, you make something of horribly poorer quality. Artful elimination requires a deeply tuned dedication, a kind of mental conditioning. This is how John Beer—former assistant to Lax and editor of this collection—roughly describes it in his wonderful introduction: during the writing of these poems, Lax led a spare, if not ascetic life on the Greek islands, handwriting notebooks worth of work—several poems a day—from which he would later select and typeset only the very best “worthy of preservation.”

Poems (1962–1997), by Robert Lax Read More »

These poems certainly elicit skepticism, but they are more than simple conceptual or design exercises. They have an oddly effective way of opening up. This is the sort of art you think you could easily make, but when you sit down to it, you make something of horribly poorer quality. Artful elimination requires a deeply tuned dedication, a kind of mental conditioning. This is how John Beer—former assistant to Lax and editor of this collection—roughly describes it in his wonderful introduction: during the writing of these poems, Lax led a spare, if not ascetic life on the Greek islands, handwriting notebooks worth of work—several poems a day—from which he would later select and typeset only the very best “worthy of preservation.”

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