3/30/15

Doug Paul Case: Something to Hide My Face In

Something to Hide My Face In: poems by Doug Paul Case. Number 11 in the Robin Becker Chapbook Series.

Cover art by Yvan Blavier; used by permission. Cover design by Adriana Marroquin.


Release date: March 31, 2015 [125 copies]
24 pages
$9.00

Purchase your copy through Paypal below or e-mail a query to sevenkitchenspress at gmail dot com.

 Doug Paul Case works as a salon receptionist in Bloomington, Indiana. His poems have appeared in Salt Hill, Court Green, The Chattahoochee Review, and Bloom. He is the publisher of Gabby and the poetry editor of Word Riot, and he's probably wearing a cardigan.




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3/21/15

Sarah B. Wiseman: Portraits

Portraits: poems by Sarah B. Wiseman. Number 10 in the Robin Becker Chapbook Series.

Cover image digitally manipulated by Paige Bickhart, using Waterlogue, from photo provided by the author.

Release date: March 21, 2015 [125 copies]
27 pages
$9.00

Purchase your copy through Paypal below or e-mail a query to sevenkitchenspress at gmail dot com.

Sarah B. Wiseman is a writer and a journeyperson carpenter living in Battersea, Ontario. Her poetry has appeared in numerous Canadian literary journals over the years.

Stranger
with bees

Rosemary is the memory herb. We lay a sprig
under our pillow at night and the scent

reminds us to dream of light, forget
our fears. We drift to sleep, oblivious

to the man who woke from nervous dreams,
rose to breakfast and bath before chores,

walked from the hollow bee tree at the edge
of his garden to the rosemary greenhouse,

and the sound of his heart followed him there.
What thoughts came to him? What memory

swelled like a sting through his body
even as he resisted? His head throbbed

as he stepped into the brush of leaves. The breath
of a hundred bees' wings on his skin,

their dizzy hum growing under the glass while he
broke the twigs of green needle, blue flower,

collected them in a bucket for market, to be twined
before the mist had finished rising

from the fields. Scent rose from his shaking hands
as he worked, piqued the thirst of those creatures

who have no memory, who are not afraid
of following the smell of rosemary to the greenhouse--

the sound of their wings resonating there.
We place a sprig of rosemary under our pillow

so we dream of light, and we do not remember
the bees, or the farmer who plucked our memory herb,

who has now turned to his window, or to a wife,
or is aware only of the weight of his body

in the middle of a narrow bed. The smell of rosemary
seething in his palms.




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3/1/15

Kate Fox: Walking Off the Map

Walking Off the Map: poems by Kate Fox. Number 2.11 in the Seven Kitchens Press Editor's Series.

Cover: cropped image of "Relevant Bones" by Cindy Dubielak.

Release date: March 1, 2015 [125 copies]
27 pages
$9.00

Purchase your copy through Paypal below or e-mail a query to sevenkitchenspress at gmail dot com.

Kate Fox's poems have appeared in the Great River Review, Green Mountains Review, Valparaiso Review, Mount Hope, and West Branch. Her previous chapbook, The Lazarus Method, was published by Kent State University Press as part of the Wick Poetry Chapbook Series.

Kathleen Scott-Young's Sonnet to Mallory

"This is going to be more like war than mountaineering.
I don't expect to come back."
--George Mallory to Geoffrey Keynes after his visit
with Robert Falcon Scott's widow, 1924.

This is how I would have sculpted you,
face down in a greathouse of granite, dimpled skin
bleached to Carrera white by spindrift scouring
the North Face, gloved fingers anchored in talus

that scatters like pine chips into the Rongbuk abyss,
stick-thin foot resting atop your skewed boot,
as if you believed you might survive, find purchase
in the frozen debris to reclaim your beloved Sandy

on the ledge above, and, then, in the embrace of a fine
Burberry weave, follow Odell's disembodied voice
down the North Ridge to Camp VI, on to base camp,

family, commendation, and fame. Instead, the mountain
preserved you as no work of mine ever could, Everest
holding fast to its own, in loco, quem posuit.




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