New: Six Ponderosas published by G L O S S

I’m very happy to be part of G L O S S, a new publishing project started by Morgan Vo that gifts poetry to people in exchange for donations to a mutual aid fund or social justice organization of the poets choice. “Our distribution pattern is meant to encourage social support.” Even though I wrote these poems in 2018, I love how a PDF press can get new work, work written in response to current events, to people in a timely fashion.

This small group of journal poems didn’t fit into my forthcoming book FAMOUS HERMITS so I’ve been looking for the right opportunity to share them. They are the last journal poems I wrote. Feels like the end of that era and area of exploration for me.

The organization I chose is Protect Native Elders because they are a volunteer run group responding to the COVID crisis that is disproportionally effecting tribes across the US. Their goal is to raise $500,000. The Navajo and Zuni here the Southwest have been very hard hit. Give them some cash if you can.

how to order

If you would like a * .pdf * of Six Ponderosas, please make a donation of $3 or more to Protect Native Elders, and send a screenshot of the receipt to: frogs.of.gloss@gmail.com

If you are unable to make a financial donation, no worries! You can email us your order, and we'll pass you the book.

From Protect Native Elders: “Operating in consultation with tribal command centers, our rapid response model enables us to deliver directly to facilities and first responders in emerging COVID-19 hotspots. In the two months since our grassroots beginning, we’ve delivered over $300,000 worth of PPE and other critical supplies to over 60 sites. We work with suppliers, manufacturers, and DIY maker collaboratives to ship masks, face-shields, hand sanitizer, food, water and other essential elements directly to our distribution hubs throughout Indian Country.”

about six ponderosas

We’re counting the days ’til we leave Missoula, we’re counting the does on the walk to and from campus, we’re counting the last cigarette. Not a catalogue, but a transmutation: the grace of numerology, the register of pain on a scale from one to ten. Szymaszek prepares us for potential encounters with wild cats, for the invasive friendliness of the local cashier, for the formative process of detailing that turns the merely adequate into something astonishing. We’re after a knowledge that can’t be known before knowing. We’re strength training in a new state.

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