Traumatized by the poetry I wrote as a macabre teen, I had all but forgotten about the form. But Minneapolis artist/writer/micro-publisher Aaron King has released a collection of poetry by Twin Cities poet Brett Jenkins—Oh No Everything—that has restored my fondness for the craft. Overheard at Boneshaker Books from a patron fingering the—dare I say—artisanal chapbook: “This looks like a book of poems for people with anxiety and depression.” Which is 100% accurate. So good. Buy it here for $6.
Here's a little sunshine. Or at least a littler foreshadowing of some sunshine.
I wrote about my lifelong sleep struggles here.
My favorite tumblr of the week.
Em dashes=Aphrodisiac and how.