Lemon Hound 3.0

Arts, Letters, Archives, Arguments

Author Archive
On Reading & Reviewing: Anita Lahey

On Reading & Reviewing: Anita Lahey

When I was editing poetry reviews for Arc Poetry Magazine, I had my radar tuned for pieces that were mean-spirited, careless or just plain blind. These sins, however, were rare, and when caught (usually) easily addressed. What troubled me more was reticence, reserve—any smokescreen cloaking the reviewer’s true feelings. I believe a review should offer...
In Conversation: Ben Fama & Kate Durbin

In Conversation: Ben Fama & Kate Durbin

Ben Fama: I want to start by asking about something that occurred several months ago on the Hyperallergic site. You’d co-written The Teen-Girl Tumblr Aesthetic, an article about tumblr users who display an aesthetic that is “immediate, hyper-embodied, raw and vulnerable,” tying it to the recent death of tumblr user Elisa Lam, who drowned in...
Alex Porco: Alice Burdick's Notebooks

Alex Porco: Alice Burdick’s Notebooks

Alice Burdick’s Notebooks: A Gallery [Note: during the summer of 2013, Canadian poet Alice Burdick shared her personal “notebooks” with me. These notebooks cover the period between 1991 and 2003. They include doodles, drawings, portraits, collages, as well as early drafts and fragments of poems. The following gallery of images showcases a small yet representative...

Maureen Latta: Moon Boy

The whole evening felt off. Right from the start. Trace’s townhouse is across the street from my house, a few blocks toward Cataraqui mall. And, this evening, her stepfather answers the door. Trace’s stepdad is usually up north working on a pipeline, which is fine with Trace because she hates him. Simple as that. Hates....
Rachel Careau: Four Fictions

Rachel Careau: Four Fictions

Anatomy Lesson On November 29 the remains of a pigeon lie along the path of my morning walk—the wings, the spine, two crabbed feet, other inedible parts. Between November 27 and December 24 they lie one day to the right of the path, the next to the left, and the next again to the right....
Catherine Bush: Accusation

Catherine Bush: Accusation

from Accusation, Goose Lane Editions, 2013. What am I supposed to do, he shouted.  His voice dropped, contrite.  I’m sorry.  Raymond Renaud’s hand reached out across the car, as if to touch Sara’s arm, before skidding away.  Behind the wheel, steering the car through the night, she had a sudden image of Raymond flying through the...
Etgar Keret: Cramps

Etgar Keret: Cramps

That night I dreamt that I was a forty-year old woman, and my husband was a retired colonel. He was running a community center in a poor neighborhood, and his social skills were shit. His workers hated him, because he kept yelling at them. They complained that he treated them like they were in basic...
Ken Babstock on Paul Muldoon

Ken Babstock on Paul Muldoon

HOW POEMS WORK KEN BABSTOCK   Hay By Paul Muldoon   This much I know. Just as I'm about to make that right turn off Province Line Road I meet another beat-up Volvo carrying a load   of hay. (More accurately, a bale of lucerne on the roof rack, a bale of lucerne or fescue...
Ken Babstock on Glyn Maxwell

Ken Babstock on Glyn Maxwell

PORTOBELLO by Glyn Maxwell When you were the one reading My palm, in the second hour of our one life, And I, sitting back for good and noticing white stuff Suddenly falling on Portobello and staying, You couldn't for all the books in the world have learned More than one watching us, Who buttered his...
Ken Babstock on Helen Humphreys

Ken Babstock on Helen Humphreys

Installation BY HELEN HUMPHREYS What we make doesn't recover from us. Twisted scaffold, trellis of rust. This is how we will be gone. The steel hull grinning with rivets. Shiny notes of chrome swinging from the stave of the wrecker's wall. Those we loved and nothing for that. The moon a chalk circle over dark...
How Poems Work: Ken Babstock on David O'Meara

How Poems Work: Ken Babstock on David O’Meara

Field-Crossing by DAVID O'MEARA The clover's razed; the ground is autumn-hard. The land bristles in a ragged frame. I'm on the far end, watching weightless clouds hastened by wind, the day dark but huge with a muscled rustling. A hydro pole impales the midriff of the field — a world-tree ripe with announcements; a pivot staking...
Heather Cromarty: on Pain Porn and Complicity

Heather Cromarty: on Pain Porn and Complicity

While reading Pain, Porn and Complicity my mind kept returning to that bizarre Stephen Marche interview of Megan Fox in Esquire.  It was mysteriously bad.  It was doesn’t-make-sense bad.  At the time I thought Marche had played his hand early on in the piece, when he wrote “the symmetry of her face, up close, is...