Most Read Reviews January to June 2022

North of Oxford

232Based on readership

All the Songs We Sing – Edited by Lenard D. Moore

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/04/01/all-the-songs-we-sing-edited-by-lenard-d-moore/

Contra natura by Rodolfo Hinostroza Translated by Anthony Seidman

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/02/01/contra-natura-by-rodolfo-hinostroza-translated-by-anthony-seidman/

A Poetics of the Press: Interviews with Poets, Printers, & Publishers edited by Kyle Schlesinger

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/05/01/a-poetics-of-the-press-interviews-with-poets-printers-publishers-edited-by-kyle-schlesinger/

Smoking the Bible by Chris Abani

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/04/01/smoking-the-bible-by-chris-abani/

A Feeling Called Heaven by Joey Yearous-Algozin

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/01/01/a-feeling-called-heaven-by-joey-yearous-algozin/

The Upright Dog by Carl Fuerst

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/06/01/the-upright-dog-by-carl-fuerst/

Anvilhead by Rustin Larson

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/02/01/anvilhead-by-rustin-larson/

Empty Graves: Tales of the Living Dead by Jonathan Maberry

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/01/01/empty-graves-tales-of-the-living-dead-by-jonathan-maberry/

getting away with everything by Vincent Cellucci and Christopher Shipman

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/03/01/getting-away-with-everything-by-vincent-cellucci-and-christopher-shipman/

A Way of Looking by Jianqing Zheng

https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/01/01/a-way-of-looking-by-jianqing-zheng/

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Most Read Poets January to June 2022

A Poem from 2018

Elaina Whitesell

Happy Mother’s Day!

During the summer of 2017 I participated in a project where I wrote a sonnet every day for a month. This was a big challenge. I had just graduated from college and was living with my parents for the summer before moving to Indianapolis, Indiana. Though the poems I wrote that month shifted out of strict sonnets, the spirit of the form remains. I wrote this poem about my mother. It was published online in New Limestone Review.

You can view this poem online here.

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Mysterious Island: Conestoga Zen Press Paperback – March 22, 2022

He reminds us of the magical realism of Gabriel García Márquez and Jorge Luis Borges:  “A piano, / With its keys locked under its cover, / Is some giant creature / At the bottom of the sea, /Waiting.” Like a painter saturating the colors of Earth, exalting its geography from delirious beauty to war nightmares, Larson takes the reader on a dreamlike journey, filled with flashbacks, family memories, and ghosts. The Philosopher Savant is a moving and powerful tribute to the past, bittersweet, funny, and heartbreaking. Themes of absence, loss and abandonment are set against a backdrop of fire and ice, in a landscape whose gardens, blooming with geraniums, lilies, marigolds, lilac, roses, orchids, honeysuckle and thistle, in “gangrened earth,” are reminiscent of Richard Matheson’s novel and Vincent Ward’s movie What Dreams May Come. Melancholic, unflinching and unexpected, The Philosopher Savant, haunted by the likes of Proust, Crane, Whitman, Shihab Nye, Keats and Shakespeare, upon whose shoulders Larson rests, pulsates like jazz and celebrates life. — Hélène Cardona in Verseville

He makes everything greater because he’s a smart singer, every poem is a win. Moments shine with an unselfconscious voice. We cannot imagine how easily paint can be applied if we just speak in real time of consequential things with a depth of heart. Within that modest framework the passage of words has a capability and a sphere of influence without limits. The poetry dynamics here are a genuine voice, believable encounters, and the ability to make everything new with the belief that no one’s watching you, and nothing can come of it, and there’s nothing to get. This is poetry at its best. –Grace Cavalieri in The Washington Independent Review of Books

Recently Received Books

North of Oxford

Updated: 4/24/22  – Available

Poetry- Flower Mountain by Rustin Larson – New Chicago Press

Poetry- Receta by Mario Jose Pagan Morales – Great Weather For Media 

Poetry-On Earth As It It by Michael Todd Steffen – Cervena Barva Press

Poetry-Let’s Call It Paradise by Mike Maggio – San Francisco Bay Press 

Poetry- Muddying the Holy Waters by Choclate Waters- Eggplant Press

Poetry- The Path to Kindness-Poems of Connection and Joy Edited by James Crews-Storey Books. 

Poetry- Hello I Must Be Going by David Hernandez – University of Pittsburgh Press

Poetry- Verdant by Jeffery Beam- kin press

Poetry- Ante body by Marwa Helal – Nightboat Books 

Novel: Elephants In Our Yard by Meral Kureyshi Translated by Robert Cantrick – Noumena Press 

Novel- Steller’s Orchid by Tom McGuire – Red Hen Press 

Creative Nonfiction – Touching Creatures, Touching Spirit by Judy Grahn – Red Hen Press

Memoir- The book of Timothy: The…

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Thrilled to be interviewed by Mitali Chakravarty in Borderless Journal April 14th, 2022 – When a Hobo in a Fedora Hat Breathes Tolkien…

Poetry by Strider Marcus Jones

INTERVIEW

When a Hobo in a Fedora Hat Breathes Tolkien…

‘My Lothlorien is a more peaceful world, with more tolerance of other individuals and cultures. Not perfect by any stretch but a place where people laugh, have their neighbours back and work with each other. A place of social justice and equality, music, poetry and art.’

In conversation with Strider Marcus Jones

i’m come home again

in your Lothlorien

Strider Marcus Jones wrote these lines about an idyllic utopia that was named Lothlorien by JRR Tolkien inLord of the Rings. Jones writes beautiful poetry that touches the heart with its music and lyricality and recreates a world that hums with peace, beauty, acceptance and tolerance – values that have become more precious than gems in the current world of war, strife and distress. He has created his own Lothlorien in the form of a journal which he has…

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Two Poems by Rustin Larson

North of Oxford

buddha
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Lawn Ornament
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Buddha, seated with four disciples, looks like my grandmother, same squarish face and long earlobes, same hairdo, topknot she’d putunder a net before she went to work at the egg plant, the disassembly line, so to speak, white ovals conveyed for candling and thenpowdering for armed forces overseas. After work she’d slip on Buddha’s housecoat– a few ocher stripes, some emblems of orchids– shewould drink her tea, silently, ceremoniously, the center of a circle of ghosts.
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Carroll Street
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in Brooklyn is probably still there, as familiar to millions as Ingersoll is to me. The fall turns to parchment. Every leaf is blank. Every leafhas something written on it, held under a slanted evening light. In a slanted evening light in Brooklyn someone sips Irish Creme from asnifter and lays down a pair of hearts. Someone shoots the moon; another person is sure she has…

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