is the Love Child of Robert Hayden and Federico GarcĂa Lorca.
About Me
- Eduardo C. Corral
- Eduardo C. Corral is a CantoMundo fellow. He holds degrees from ASU and the Iowa Writers' Workshop. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Beloit Poetry Journal, jubilat, New England Review, Ploughshares, Poetry, and Post Road. His work has been honored with a "Discovery"/The Nation award and residencies from The MacDowell Colony and Yaddo. He has served as the Olive B. O'Connor Fellow in Creative Writing at Colgate University and as the Philip Roth Resident in Creative Writing at Bucknell University. He's the interview editor for Boxcar Poetry Review. He won the 2011 Yale Series of Younger Poets competition.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
Chapbook Competition
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Post Xmas Bits
How sweet to learn that Jordan and Ali have just married. Wishing them all the best!
*
I've updated my blogroll.
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My Xmas loot: a new leather satchel, a Simpsons DVD, kickass shoes, and a new wallet.
*
Currently reading Bernard Malamud's The Fixer. Malamud is my favorite short story writer. I'm eager to see how I respond to one of his novels.
*
As I type this I'm hearing on CNN that Gerald Ford has passed away.
*
*
I've updated my blogroll.
*
My Xmas loot: a new leather satchel, a Simpsons DVD, kickass shoes, and a new wallet.
*
Currently reading Bernard Malamud's The Fixer. Malamud is my favorite short story writer. I'm eager to see how I respond to one of his novels.
*
As I type this I'm hearing on CNN that Gerald Ford has passed away.
*
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Xmas Bits
Happy B-Day, Goatfish! And no, that's not my sacreligious pet name for Jesus.
*
The cover of Chris Abani's new novel features artwork by Alma Lopez. Very cool.
*
Happy B-Day, Cornshake!
*
What are some of your guilty pleasures?
Starbucks, massages, Birkenstock sandals (which, I know, are the butt of jokes, one
of which is something like Birkenstocks are so unattractive they can be used as birth control...
*
This should be the cover of Collin Kelly's next chapbook.
*
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays to all of you.
*
The cover of Chris Abani's new novel features artwork by Alma Lopez. Very cool.
*
Happy B-Day, Cornshake!
*
What are some of your guilty pleasures?
Starbucks, massages, Birkenstock sandals (which, I know, are the butt of jokes, one
of which is something like Birkenstocks are so unattractive they can be used as birth control...
*
This should be the cover of Collin Kelly's next chapbook.
*
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays to all of you.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Tupelo Press: Open Reading Period Results
Tupelo will be publishing these books:
Angela Shaw of Swarthmore, PA, for The Beginning of the Fields. Angela Shaw’s poetry has appeared in The Best American Poetry Anthology 1994 and 1996. She has also had poems selected for The Pushcart Prize & The Beacon Best of 2001. Her work has appeared in Poetry, Chelsea, Field, Pleiades, and elsewhere. “The Beginning of the Fields” is her first book.
Karen An-Hwei Lee of Santa Ana, CA, for two books: Ardor and Erythropoiesis. Heather McHugh selected Ms. Lee’s first book, In Medias Res, for the 2003 Katherine Morton Prize from Sarabande Books. In Medias Res also won the Norma Farber First Book Award from Poetry Society of America. She won a 2005 individual artist’s grant from the NEA.
Joshua Marie Wilkinson of Denver, Colorado, for The Book of Whispering in the Projection Booth. Joshua Marie Wilkinson’s first collection, Suspension of a Secret in Abandoned Rooms was published by Pinball Press in 2005, and Lug Your Careless Body Out of the Careful Dusk won the 2005 Iowa Poetry Prize and was published by U. Iowa Press in 2006. New Michigan Press published his chapbook, A Ghost as King of the Rabbits.
Christopher Buckley of Lompoc, CA, for Modern History—Prose Poems 1987-2007. Christopher Buckley has published fourteen books of poetry, most recently, Sky (The Sheep Meadow Press, 2004) and Star Apocrypha (Northwestern University Press, 2001). For his poetry he has received four Pushcart Prizes, two awards from the Poetry Society of America, a Fulbright Award in Creative Writing to the former Yugoslavia, and is the recipient of NEA grants in poetry for 2001 and 1984.
Angela Shaw of Swarthmore, PA, for The Beginning of the Fields. Angela Shaw’s poetry has appeared in The Best American Poetry Anthology 1994 and 1996. She has also had poems selected for The Pushcart Prize & The Beacon Best of 2001. Her work has appeared in Poetry, Chelsea, Field, Pleiades, and elsewhere. “The Beginning of the Fields” is her first book.
Karen An-Hwei Lee of Santa Ana, CA, for two books: Ardor and Erythropoiesis. Heather McHugh selected Ms. Lee’s first book, In Medias Res, for the 2003 Katherine Morton Prize from Sarabande Books. In Medias Res also won the Norma Farber First Book Award from Poetry Society of America. She won a 2005 individual artist’s grant from the NEA.
Joshua Marie Wilkinson of Denver, Colorado, for The Book of Whispering in the Projection Booth. Joshua Marie Wilkinson’s first collection, Suspension of a Secret in Abandoned Rooms was published by Pinball Press in 2005, and Lug Your Careless Body Out of the Careful Dusk won the 2005 Iowa Poetry Prize and was published by U. Iowa Press in 2006. New Michigan Press published his chapbook, A Ghost as King of the Rabbits.
Christopher Buckley of Lompoc, CA, for Modern History—Prose Poems 1987-2007. Christopher Buckley has published fourteen books of poetry, most recently, Sky (The Sheep Meadow Press, 2004) and Star Apocrypha (Northwestern University Press, 2001). For his poetry he has received four Pushcart Prizes, two awards from the Poetry Society of America, a Fulbright Award in Creative Writing to the former Yugoslavia, and is the recipient of NEA grants in poetry for 2001 and 1984.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Work Song Bits
I spent Saturday morning helping my brother-in-law wheelbarrow cement. Damn, cement is heavy! I almost lost control of the first few wheelbarrows. He's building a back porch and I helped pour cement for the new slab. I sound so butch! My momma must be so proud.
*
I'm listening to Billy Joel. I have no idea why.
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Work Song. This is my favorite Mark Levine poem. Though Willow from his new book is a close second.
*
Charlie Jensen is for sale. Not by the hour. And not by the inch. But you can purchase Living Things, his latest chapbook.
*
I'm feeling so much better. I can hear out of right ear again. Ah, the music of the ordinary!
*
I should've worn gloves Saturday morning. My hands are still raw.
*
I'm listening to Billy Joel. I have no idea why.
*
Work Song. This is my favorite Mark Levine poem. Though Willow from his new book is a close second.
*
Charlie Jensen is for sale. Not by the hour. And not by the inch. But you can purchase Living Things, his latest chapbook.
*
I'm feeling so much better. I can hear out of right ear again. Ah, the music of the ordinary!
*
I should've worn gloves Saturday morning. My hands are still raw.
Monday, December 18, 2006
early hours
In the high hours of the night
stars get naked
and bathe in the rivers.
Owls desire them,
the little feathers on their heads
stand up.
Humberto Ak'abal
stars get naked
and bathe in the rivers.
Owls desire them,
the little feathers on their heads
stand up.
Humberto Ak'abal
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Friday, December 15, 2006
North Country Institute and Retreat for Writers of Color
Sponsored by State University of New York at Plattsburgh and The Center for Black Literature
The North Country Institute and Retreat for Writers of Color invites applications for its Fourth Annual Summer Writers? Institute and Retreat, tobe held July 8-14, 2007, at the Valcour Education and Conference Center on the shores of Lake Champlain.
Residents will work with faculty mentors:
Chris Abani (fiction)
Kimiko Hahn (poetry)
Jimmy Santiago Baca (memoir)
Applicants materials must include: the application form, a cover letter expressing reasons for wanting to participate, two letters of recommendation from individuals familiar with their writing, and a sample of writing. A non-refundable application fee of $25, payable to SUNY Plattsburgh, should accompany the application. Applications will be reviewed as received until allspaces have been filled.
Tuition for the North Country Institute and Retreat at Valcour is $1,000 and includes workshops, lodging and meals. Need-based scholarships available.
Send application materials by APRIL 18, 2007 to:
Dr. Jose L. Torres-Padilla
Dept. of English
SUNY Plattsburgh
101 Broad Street
Plattsburgh, NY 12901
Or email to TorresJL@plattsburgh.edu
For application form and more information check our website:
http://www.plattsburgh.edu/offices/academic/writersofcolor
The North Country Institute and Retreat for Writers of Color invites applications for its Fourth Annual Summer Writers? Institute and Retreat, tobe held July 8-14, 2007, at the Valcour Education and Conference Center on the shores of Lake Champlain.
Residents will work with faculty mentors:
Chris Abani (fiction)
Kimiko Hahn (poetry)
Jimmy Santiago Baca (memoir)
Applicants materials must include: the application form, a cover letter expressing reasons for wanting to participate, two letters of recommendation from individuals familiar with their writing, and a sample of writing. A non-refundable application fee of $25, payable to SUNY Plattsburgh, should accompany the application. Applications will be reviewed as received until allspaces have been filled.
Tuition for the North Country Institute and Retreat at Valcour is $1,000 and includes workshops, lodging and meals. Need-based scholarships available.
Send application materials by APRIL 18, 2007 to:
Dr. Jose L. Torres-Padilla
Dept. of English
SUNY Plattsburgh
101 Broad Street
Plattsburgh, NY 12901
Or email to TorresJL@plattsburgh.edu
For application form and more information check our website:
http://www.plattsburgh.edu/offices/academic/writersofcolor
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Old Man Bits
I'm an old man. I'm taking antibiotics. I'm pumping nasal sprays into my nose. I'm coughing a lot. All I need is a walker and Anna Nicole Smith.
*
I dread opening emails from people I've "discussed" on my blog. Why? Some people can't take a joke! The other day as I opened an email from a poet (hint: his initials are A.L.) I prepared myself for some mean words. But A.L. was sweet and amused by my blog post. He gets a gold star.
*
I'm going Xmas shopping tomorrow for my niece and nephews. One of my nephews wants an ant farm!
*
*
I dread opening emails from people I've "discussed" on my blog. Why? Some people can't take a joke! The other day as I opened an email from a poet (hint: his initials are A.L.) I prepared myself for some mean words. But A.L. was sweet and amused by my blog post. He gets a gold star.
*
I'm going Xmas shopping tomorrow for my niece and nephews. One of my nephews wants an ant farm!
*
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
After Shame
In a damp bar full of old men
she places my hand on her head
just on top of a bulge on her skull —
a bump really, and my stomach sours,
humbled to be across from her, drinking beer with
an abbreviated unicorn. I swirled kinks
of hair on that knob. Just so you know, she said.
Which I thought was odd, even
presumptuous, and I felt dead, drawing
my hand back in a jerk.
COMMENTARY TO THE FIRST STANZA
I don't know why she showed me her bumpy head.
She went off and became a painter,
a good one, really, who liked to show groups of kids
languid and calm after playing all afternoon.
After I looked around in her room
she never spoke to me again,
the forbidden knowledge of what deforms us
forgotten until now. It must be age.
Shame can only be given in particulars.
I tell these stories to explain why people stop liking me.
Daniel Nester
she places my hand on her head
just on top of a bulge on her skull —
a bump really, and my stomach sours,
humbled to be across from her, drinking beer with
an abbreviated unicorn. I swirled kinks
of hair on that knob. Just so you know, she said.
Which I thought was odd, even
presumptuous, and I felt dead, drawing
my hand back in a jerk.
COMMENTARY TO THE FIRST STANZA
I don't know why she showed me her bumpy head.
She went off and became a painter,
a good one, really, who liked to show groups of kids
languid and calm after playing all afternoon.
After I looked around in her room
she never spoke to me again,
the forbidden knowledge of what deforms us
forgotten until now. It must be age.
Shame can only be given in particulars.
I tell these stories to explain why people stop liking me.
Daniel Nester
Monday, December 11, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
The Wind Shifts: New Latino Poetry
I'm really looking forward to this anthology. I'm lucky enough to be in it. Here's the table of contents. See: I'm not the only blogger in the anthology. You'll find poems by Sheryl, Emmy, and Gina. It's a blogger fest!
The anthology will be out this spring.
The anthology will be out this spring.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Every Little Classroom
EVERY LITTLE CLASSROOM has its Emily. This one calls the cross “the stake.” Imagine her Lord beleaguered like that, the mythic crucifix merely vertical. She never has a thing to eat. When she finally collapses, she awakens to our worried faces. Later she’s back at her desk in her trance. She clasps her hands into a sphere. She knows the shortcuts through the fields that we don’t know.
David Keplinger
David Keplinger
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Henri Cole
Embers
Poor summer, it doesn't know it's dying.
A few days are all it has. Still, the lake
is with me, its strokes of blue-violet
and the fiery sun replacing loneliness.
I feel like an animal that has found a place.
This is my burrow, my nest, my attempt
to say, I exist. A rose can't shut itself
and be a bud again. It's a malady,
wanting it. On the shore, the moon sprinkles
light over everything, like a campfire,
and in the green-black night, the tall pines
hold their arms out as God held His arms
out to say that He was lonely and that
He was making Himself a man.
Poor summer, it doesn't know it's dying.
A few days are all it has. Still, the lake
is with me, its strokes of blue-violet
and the fiery sun replacing loneliness.
I feel like an animal that has found a place.
This is my burrow, my nest, my attempt
to say, I exist. A rose can't shut itself
and be a bud again. It's a malady,
wanting it. On the shore, the moon sprinkles
light over everything, like a campfire,
and in the green-black night, the tall pines
hold their arms out as God held His arms
out to say that He was lonely and that
He was making Himself a man.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Bits
C. Dale lost his copy of B.P. Kelly's To the Place of Trumpets, her first book which won the Yale. I read this book once. Well, I didn't really read it. The campus library at the University of Illinois in C/U had a copy in its special collections. I asked to see it. And since I wasn't a student the lady behind the desk had me read it in an office, with her sitting a few feet away. Needless to say, I couldn't really read the poems with her glaring at me. I just flipped through it and tried to absorb as much as I could. Too bad. But as you can see, copies of this book are rare and expensive!
*
I'm feeling better. But my ears still hurt. And there's lime-green stuff coming out of my nose.
*
Jordan, has a stalker? Really? How odd.
*
Let me take this moment and thank the people who are writing letters of rec for me. Thank you! People always ask me: why don't you have your teachers from Iowa write letters for you? Well, because I didn't really get to know any of my teachers. Except for Marvin Bell. And he's semi-retired. I wouldn't feel comfortable asking the Iowa teachers for letters. I don't think my writing impressed them. And quite frankly, their teaching didn't impress me. Except for Marvin Bell.
*
My ears just popped!
*
Should I go to AWP Atanta? I'm still thinking about.
*
Is the rumor true? Has Fence Books joined the participating list of publishers for the National Poetry Series?
*
The Cypress Trees are Talking Now: what a cool blog name.
*
In
the
pines,
the
wind
rehearses
its
vows.
You
there
too,
where
shadows
grow.
*
I'm feeling better. But my ears still hurt. And there's lime-green stuff coming out of my nose.
*
Jordan, has a stalker? Really? How odd.
*
Let me take this moment and thank the people who are writing letters of rec for me. Thank you! People always ask me: why don't you have your teachers from Iowa write letters for you? Well, because I didn't really get to know any of my teachers. Except for Marvin Bell. And he's semi-retired. I wouldn't feel comfortable asking the Iowa teachers for letters. I don't think my writing impressed them. And quite frankly, their teaching didn't impress me. Except for Marvin Bell.
*
My ears just popped!
*
Should I go to AWP Atanta? I'm still thinking about.
*
Is the rumor true? Has Fence Books joined the participating list of publishers for the National Poetry Series?
*
The Cypress Trees are Talking Now: what a cool blog name.
*
In
the
pines,
the
wind
rehearses
its
vows.
You
there
too,
where
shadows
grow.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
And the Winner of a Copy of Best New Poets 2006 is
Kelly in Nebraska! Kelly, email me and we'll set it up.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Anthony Robin & Sons
For everyone who does not know or just has not.
Anthony Robinson's new book Brief Weather and I Guess a Sort of Vision is on sale here.
My review follows.
***
yesterday, tony's book arrived ice-white and hungry. tony's book got me thinking about Austin, sex, terrestrial pacts, roast bunny, lentils, and the Thornbirds (minus the sheep shearing scenes). tony's book shared a 40 with me, left, came back, chopped down my door, and said All night the crying & all morning sleep forgets
***
Anthony Robinson's new book Brief Weather and I Guess a Sort of Vision is on sale here.
My review follows.
***
yesterday, tony's book arrived ice-white and hungry. tony's book got me thinking about Austin, sex, terrestrial pacts, roast bunny, lentils, and the Thornbirds (minus the sheep shearing scenes). tony's book shared a 40 with me, left, came back, chopped down my door, and said All night the crying & all morning sleep forgets
***
Hobble Creek Review
Justin Evan's online journal Hobble Creek Review is now accepting poems and batches of homemade brownies.
Narratives of Chaos

Question Everyone:
I'm looking for texts that narrate chaos. Meaning the subject matter, or the story being told is crazy, but because it relies on tradional storytelling tactics, the reader still follows or believes or is interested or is compelled.
Texts that do this are: In the Heart of the Heart of the Country, Gass,
The Autobiography of Red, and maybe even 100 years of Solitude, Marquez.
Can you help me and give me the names of a few that you think do this? I know of a few more, but didn't list for carpel-tunnell's sake. Poetry or Fiction, I'm looking for either.
Thanks!
P.S. I had an interesting and surprisingly happy dream last night. A handsome doctor was examining my left knee. Pushing the cartilage around (not painfully), but touching the place on your knee where the bone indents, he told me my knee was injured. As was the meat between my toe bones. The funny thing was that I left his office happy & fulfilled. Apparently, I'd been telling others about my knee and foot hurts and no one had taken my injuries seriously--except him.
Any dream definers out there?
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