Tag: kirby wright

Etched Press Poet Joins Archive

Kirby Wright’s The Girl with the Green Violin is now included as a part of the special collection at the University of California San Diego’s Archive for New Poetry. This is the first Etched Press title introduced to the archive.

The Archive for New Poetry is a comprehensive research collection of American poetry and poetics reflecting and documenting alternative approaches to writing in the English language that have emerged since 1945. Although the Archive includes mainstream and academic poets, particularly those whose works are antecedent to post-war American experimental writing, most of the collection focuses on the “New American” poets: the Black Mountain poets, the Objectivist movement, the San Francisco Renaissance, the New York School, and the language writers.

The Archive was established in 1968 when Roy Harvey Pearce, professor of literature at UC San Diego, donated important first editions of post-war American poets to the UC San Diego Library. The collection now numbers over 35,000 volumes, 1,800 serial titles, over 700 poetry broadsides, extensive manuscript holdings, and over 1,500 audio recordings, all of which support intense research use by students, scholars and writers internationally.

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Etched Press is proud to be a part of such a important collection. Congratulations to Kirby Wright! Wright was born and raised in Honolulu, Hawaii. He is a graduate of Punahou School in Honolulu and the University of California at San Diego. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University. Wright has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and is a past recipient of the Ann Fields Poetry Prize, the Academy of American Poets Award, the Browning Society Award for Dramatic Monologue, and Arts Council Silicon Valley Fellowships in Poetry and The Novel. Wright is also the author of the companion novels Punahou Blues and Moloka’i Nui Ahina, both set in Hawaii. His third novel The End, My Friend is currently being adapted into a film. More information on the archive can be found here.

A link to the catalog record in UCSD’s special collections.

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Two New Chapbooks Available

Etched Press would like to announce the publication of two new chapbooks: The Singing is My Favorite Part by Susan Elliott Brown and The Girl with the Green Violin by Kirby Wright. They are the fifth and sixth titles in the Etched Press Poetry Series, respectively. You can read about the two new chapbooks in the Etched Press Shop or on Amazon if you have a Kindle (The Singing / The Girl).

Read a poem from the first of the two new chapbooks, The Singing is My Favorite Part:
Eutrophication | Susan Elliott Brown

The dock rots beneath your feet,
fish-stale water green
around its posts. Mosquitoes
land on the oily film that thickens
the surface, dotting
its topography with sparkling
holes, like dust particles glowing
in a light beam through a basement
window. Toads breed near the teeming
banks. The air smells metallic,
the way your hands smell after
you ride the carousel at the mall,
gripping the brass pole
that impales your horse.

 

 

And a poem from The Girl with the Green Violin:
Carrots on Snow | Kirby Wright

A flame has been extinguished in mother, not the fire of life but that spark wanting independence. She displays a certain resignation, one that causes her face to droop as if melting. Her body sags in the chair. The dining table’s cluttered with magazines, keys, unopened credit card statements and utility bills, newspapers, and expired coupons from Whole Foods. She nods solemnly when I suggest she consider a live-in to help prepare meals and keep things tidy. “You could be like roommates,” I smile, “and, best of all, she could drive you everywhere.” “Driving Miss Lonely,” she smirks, getting up. She weaves her way through a gauntlet of boxes marked for recycling, crates of junk mail, and plastic bins filled with ornaments. She shuffles past the Christmas tree and falls into the loveseat beside the window. She studies the rabbits. They’re gnawing the carrots she stacked at dawn on the snow.