Chax Bundle of 13
One of the new offerings from Chax, A Bundle of Books at Significant Savings to our Great Readers
Looking to jump into Chax? Now we offer you a great way to do it. Please keep coming to our site for a new bundle or two every month.
13 books at a special discount. The average price of these books is more than $17, but here you can have all 13 for just $100 (less than $8 per book) plus shipping. This is a limited time offer that will expire at the end of February 2018. Links below lead to the regular product pages for the books, with more information about the book. But you must return here to purchase this bundle at the discounted price.
Ted Pearson, An Intermittent Music
Kit Robinson, Leaves of Class
James Sherry, Entangled Bank
Ben Hollander, The Letters of Carla
Sarah Riggs, Waterwork
Will Alexander, Inside the Earthquake Palace
Michael Gottlieb, What We Do
Gil Ott, arrive on wave
Linh Dinh, ed.and trans., The Deluge
Gaspar Orozco, Autocinema
Leonard Schwartz & Simon Carr, Salamander
Alice Notley, Reason & Other Women
Susan Thackrey, Andalusia
Leaves of Class, by Kit Robinson
Poems by Kit Robinson
The title of Kit Robinson’s latest is a nod to the Great Includer, and its pages share something of that earlier writer’s peripatetic energy, his constant welcoming. Think also of Monk’s sidewinding testaments, Saul Leiter’s carefully sudden Manhattan kodachromes, Top 40 radio when it (sometimes) used to be challenging. But the call of thought is the tone most often heard—the summons to consider, to praise, to inveigh. Time now to roll up those “vernacular shirt sleeves” and get down to “tuning the work of days.” These are irresistible poems.
— George Albon
Like Whitman, Kit Robinson celebrates himself, the world, and the amplitude of time. In Leaves of Class, we are treated to poetic clarity and a sense of rectitude. Whimsical forays into the boundaries of meaning and language, “You could say poetry publicity puberty probity,” he characterizes planetary currents, of which he knows he is an intrinsic part, as “vertiginous, lofty, cerebral, lazy, and light.” In this collection, Robinson leaves the ecology of self to discover new wilderness. Powerful stuff.
— Anne Tardos
Waterwork by Sarah Riggs
“In five stunning sequences, Sarah Riggs has created a poetics of elastic migrations that imagines the world as clusters, skeins, and motions whose innate peril is miraculously saved in hte act of naming: ‘each name for a thing seems intent to curl from its shelled meaning.’ Places, histories, persons, myth and object, intimacy and incident, are precision shorelines of simultaneous apprehension and erasure. In this subtle and luminous first book, Sarah Riggs has engaged our most fundamental quandaries in a poetry that announces, in Stevens’ phrase, ‘a new knowledge of reality.'”—Ann Lauterbach
“[Riggs] turns her acute eye to contemporary culture as well as natural history and her ear to the subtle balances of rhythm and assonance. The result is a beautiful attention that illuminates nuance, making the everyday world more detailed and thus more grand.”—Cole Swensen
Sarah Riggs is the author of WATERWORK (Chax Press, 2007), Chain of Miniscule Decisions in the Form of a Feeling (Reality Street Editions, 2007), 60 TEXTOS (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2010), 36 Blackberries (Juge Editions), and . Her book of essays, Word Sightings: Poetry and Visual Media in Stevens, Bishop, and O’Hara was published by Routledge in 2002. She has translated or co-translated from the French the poets Isabelle Garron, Marie Borel, Etel Adnan, Ryoko Sekiguchi, and, most recently, Oscarine Bosquet. Several of Riggs’s books of poetry have appeared in French translations by Françoise Valéry and others, with the publishers Éditions de l’attente and Le Bleu du ciel. A member of the bilingual poetry collective Double Change and founder of the interart non-profit Tamaas, she divides her time between the U.S. coasts and Paris, where she is a professor at NYU-in-France.
THE HINDRANCES OF A HOUSEHOLDER hand-colored edition
CHAX PRESS announces THE HINDRANCES OF A HOUSEHOLDER, by Jennifer Bartlett
Poetry. Literature. $50.00.
The author/artist, Jennifer Bartlett, has hand-colored several copies of this book which includes a few drawings. These books are being offered to the public for $50, $35 of which goes directly to the author/artist.
Jennifer Bartlett writes, “a word here, a word there,” yet, somehow, never manages to write like anyone else. These poems concern themselves with the messiness of relationships and how those relationships operate in both real and fanciful worlds. Her poems comment on one another, on themselves, and on this fascinating character named Jennifer who weaves in and out of the poems. She writes about swimming pools, sex, neurology, the duality of names, and friendship. Along the way she offers no hindrances for the reader. Instead this book shows poems by a poet writing at her joyful, dizzy best. —Mike James, author of Crows in the Jukebox and My Favorite Houseguest
A Mere Rica, by Linh Dinh
Poetry/Literature, including an interview with Linh Dinh. ISBN 9781946104045. 234 pages.
Getting back to the theme of writing from the outside, I published this in the American Poetry Review in 2004, “I’ve come to realize that I much prefer to live on the periphery of the English language, so that I can steer clear of the tyranny of its suffocating center. In this sense, I am a quintessential American. A Unapoet, I like to homestead just beyond the long reach of Washington […] Hearing the rapid syllables of a foreign language, a bigot is infuriated because he’s reduced to the status of an infant. Poets, on the other hand, should welcome all opportunities to become disoriented. To not know what’s happening forces one to become more attentive and to fill in the blanks. Hence, poetry.” (Linh Dinh, from the Interview with Tahseen Alkhateeb)
Linh Dinh is the author of five previous books of poems, plus two collections of short stories, a novel and a non-fiction account of the economic, social an political unraveling of the USA, Postcards from the End of America (Seven Stories Press 2017). His political essays are regularly published at Unz Review and other webzines.
Salamander: A Bestiary
Poems by Leonard Schwartz / Images by Simon Carr
64 pages; 24 poems with 24 images plus title/cover image
What do you get when you put ten frogs in a coffee pot? Answer: Salamander, the latest in a long, imaginative line of animal inventories that began in classical Greece, if not on Noah’s Ark, became popular during the medieval period, and includes such modern innovators as Leonardo da Vinci and Lewis Carroll, Jorge Luis Borges and J.K. Rowling. A collaboration among a father, his daughter, and a woodcutter, this poetic menagerie celebrates the intelligence and ingenuity of two dozen creatures, from elk to eel, orca to owl. A labor of filial laughter, this carved, quirky rolodex is also a mirror in which we see ourselves, as “Wildness withheld,” for the endangered species we are.
— Andrew Zawacki
Woodcuts — are they black on white or white on black?—cut through the woods of words. The wood shows what the words mean. And the other way round. You can’t be sure with animals.
Animals are there just enough for us to glimpse (a woodcut is more shadow than flesh) and have some working poet explain them to themselves.
This book is all explanation. Read “Blonde Raven” to learn what it means to live in a visible world
The poems are sparse — light shows through them — and tell us things about animals, and tell animals about themselves — so much so that I’m not sure, after reading through the 24 panels, whether I’m being explained or being enlightened. That’s a perplexity that comes when reading Rilke and Dickinson too, poets who can’t always tell themselves from what they see.
— Robert Kelly
photo by Carlos David
MANTIS, by David Dowker
MANTIS, by David Dowker
POETRY / LITERATURE $17 US / 64 pages / published 2018
The other that enters the text maintains its iridescence “through multiple woof” (and tweet or twitter) ambigrammatical basically a reading “all resin fled” this or that which verbals at the interstices ratiocinates and conjugates erasure valence emergent impetus on the verge of blur “mantid being” a gloss from the given harmonics.
To explore Mantis is to explore language as organic material in formation, information as material. The work is bit-mined, one might say, from The Maintains by Clark Coolidge, taking as rudiment processes of jazz improvisation, particularly as practiced by musicians who may take a single step, and then follow where that step leads. To follow Mantis where it leads is to enter the forest, the cavern, the word hoard, and to find oneself as “light” or “as rose,” and to cross that place into a realm of creative possibility, where the final “as if” may mean open to everything.
Jam Alerts by Linh Dinh
“Linh Dinh is one of the most consistently surprising writers around. One can find sources & roots for his writing, explain the traces of surrealism through the presence, say, of the French in Vietnam (tho they were driven out a decade before he was born), note that he is hardly the only good or successful Vietnamese American poet, let alone the only poet to come from a working class background, yet he is not writing ‘about’ or even ‘toward’ nor ‘from’ any one of these contexts so much as he is through them—they are lenses, filters, that condition his perspective on everyday life. Imagine what any other poet with this strong a sense of form would have had to become in order to write such poetry. Ted Berrigan, for example. Berrigan shares Linh’s class background, which enables him to be as ruthless in a different way as Linh is in his. But the comparison stops there. Linh is writing straightforward poetry, but from a perspective shared by almost no one else. This kind of exile is far deeper than mere geography…you can feel Linh’s deep loneliness on every page & realize that there are aspects of his poetry that you can’t find anywhere else. We probably haven’t had a writer this singular since the death of William Burroughs.”—Ron Silliman
Linh Dinh was born in Saigon, Vietnam in 1963, came to the US in 1975, and has also lived in Italy and England. He is the author of two collections of stories and four books of poems. His work has been anthologized in Best American Poetry 2000, Best American Poetry 2004, Best American Poetry 2007 and Great American Prose Poems from Poe to the Present, among other places. Linh Dinh is also the editor of the anthologies Night, Again: Contemporary Fiction from Vietnam (Seven Stories Press, 1996) and Three Vietnamese Poets (Tinfish, 2001), and translator of Night, Fish and Charlie Parker, the poetry of Phan Nhien Hao (Tupelo, 2006). Blood and Soap (Seven Stories Press, 2004) was chosen by the Village Voice as one of the best books of 2004. His poems and stories have been translated into Italian, Spanish, German, Dutch, Portuguese, Japanese and Arabic, and he has been invited to read his works all over the US, London, Cambridge and Berlin. He has also published widely in Vietnamese. He lives in Philadelphia. His works from Chax Press are AMERICAN TATTS (2005), JAM ALERTS (2007), and SOME KIND OF CHEESE ORGY (2009).
Autocinema by Gaspar Orozco
Poetry. ISBN 978-1-946104-00-7. 104 pages. $17 US.
Control and beauty, composition and precision: like one who looks through a pinhole camera and from that vantage notes and examines the unexpected, the near, the never seen before, Gaspar Orozco, a poet, almost an entomologist, almost a Buddhist monk, brings to the eyes, tongue and ears of the attentive reader wisps of a reality, a hyperreality, that flickers for a moment and then is gone. Poet of lucid verse, of contrasts and tensions, Autocinema confirms his status as that rarest of rare birds, an idiosyncratic and powerful voice amidst the crowded flock of contemporary Mexican poets. —Rocío Cerón
We see movies and become them, and then they begin another, transformed existence. The art of filmmaking has engendered a counter-art of which Gaspar Orozco shows himself a master: the making of a movie by a mind become camera, deep in the realm of the unfilmable and almost unsayable. A sunken screen image—it might be from Melies or Vigo, Wong Kar-wai or Edgardo Cozarinsky—undergoes a sea-change into a spectacle for an inner screening room. —Geoffrey O’Brien