Life keeps hurtling forward, bursting forth. It’s spring in California, the jasmine’s come in and the streaky roses. It’s been raining hard all morning; just now it stopped abruptly. Lyn writes in My Life, “she observed that detail minutely, as if it were botanical. As if words could unite an ardent intellect with the external material world.” This is Lyn, vitally observing, drawing it all into relation, the mind and the world, botanical, passionate. Making words hold life, making words as life. “Such that art is inseparable from the search for reality,” she writes.
Let's take a quick break, actually: Eddie Hopely in performance
Toby Fitch, following Eddie Hopely’s reading at Sappho’s monthly "Avant Gaga" poetry night (August 9, 2016) described Hopely as “the ultimate troll.” Hopely is this and more. His work is striking for its uncompromising (and potentially self-sabotaging) interrogation of the bodies and frameworks that support/facilitate/provide space for (his) poetry. To edit, publish, stand near (or, for that matter, write on) Hopely’s work, is to risk appearing earnest, naïve and kind of establishment in comparison to his anti-institutional poetics.
Toby Fitch, following Eddie Hopely’s reading at Sappho’s monthly "Avant Gaga" poetry night (August 9, 2016) described Hopely as “the ultimate troll.”