“This is important: you have to take the sadness for a walk twice a day but nothing too early. The sadness likes cracked sidewalks and large bodies of water. The sadness likes coffee shops and subway stops that are empty or crowded. The sadness likes extremes.”
Don’t miss this phenomenal poem from Stevie Edwards, featuring at her book release party at Icehouse in Minneapolis.
Congrats on your release day, Stevie! Make sure to check out Stevie’s new book, SADNESS WORKSHOP, Winner of the 2016 Button Poetry Prize, now available!
Performing at Button Poetry Live. “My father grew up in Saigon. There was no middle class. Just rich, or bones along the road, waiting to be buried in broth, to feed their young to a soldier.”
Don’t miss this fantastic poem from Joshua Nguyen, performing at Button Poetry Live.
In-Depth Look: Olivia Gatwood – “When I Say We Are All Teen Girls”
Appreciating poetry is often about patience: sitting with a poem, meditating on it, and re-reading it multiple times. With spoken word, we don’t always get a chance to do that. This series is about taking that chance, and diving a little deeper into some of the new poems going up on Button.
“When I say that we are all teen girls, what I mean is that when my grandmother called to ask why I didn’t respond to her letter, all I heard was, ‘Why didn’t you text me back? Why don’t you love me?’”
From its title, to it structure, even down to the line-by-line word choices: this poem knows what it is. That might seem like a weird thing to say about a poem, but Gatwood is delivering a masterclass in conceptual discipline and focus here; this poem makes a specific statement, and every line– every word– contributes to that work.
I always find myself appreciating that kind of “focus on focus” because for me (and I also know that this is true for a ton of beginning writers), that has been a challenge to develop. I remember just splashing a bunch of thoughts, feelings, and images on the page, and thinking that the reader/listener would do the work of making them make sense. After all, the romantic stereotype of what poetry is doesn’t always have room for words like “discipline,” “structure,” or “thesis.” To be fair, you can absolutely write poems without any of those things. But they are powerful tools, and when wielded as intentionally as Gatwood wields them here, they can propel a piece from an interesting thought to an unforgettable experience.
This poem immediately reminded me of pieces like this, and this, about how teen girls are used as barometers by adult male music critics to decide what is and isn’t okay to enjoy. US culture is quick to write off the things that teen girls like, because, frankly, it’s already so quick to write off women, and young people, and especially young women, as human beings. Gatwood’s poem takes that idea further, though, focusing not just on pop culture, but on the relationship between teen girls and reality itself. This recontextualization of so many things– the wrench, the ocean, Donald Trump, Pluto– challenges the audience to think more critically, while simultaneously serving as a validating battle cry to *actual* teen girls, who appear in the poem “huddled on the subway after school, limbs draped over each other’s shoulders, bones knocking an awkward windchime.”
Find more from Olivia Gatwood here, and get her book here!
“There is nothing rational about love. Love stutters when it gets nervous, love trips over its own shoelaces. Love is clumsy, and my heart refuses to wear a helmet.”
Don’t miss this heartbreaking poem from Rudy Francisco, performing at Icehouse in Minneapolis.
Check out Rudy’s debut book, HELIUM, now available!
Performing at Sabrina Benaim’s book release in Minneapolis.
“As a young man, I was taught that one’s masculinity is tied directly to one’s handshake, that when meeting another man for the first time, no sin was more unforgivable than placing a limp fish in his hand, the dead husk of a greeting”
Don’t miss this magnificent poem from Guante, performing at Icehouse in Minneapolis.
Performing at Button Poetry Live. “You swallowed the sky, the moon sat in your stomach, a rock, a soft murmur, that erupted as gravity pulled you into yourself.”
Don’t miss this phenomenal poem from Dua Saleh, performing at Button Poetry Live.
