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The Rest Is Censored
K. Lorraine Graham
ISBN: 978-0-9965868-3-2
5.5 x 8.5
Trade Paper Original
106 pages
$16*
*Domestic shipping for US and Canada only. For international shipping, contact us at sales at bloof books dot com.
A second edition of The Rest Is Censored by K. Lorraine Graham is forthcoming from Bloof Books. This book was very briefly released by another press last year, but our new edition has been totally redesigned and corrected, and we are treating it as a new release to ensure it receives the readership it deserves.
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NOTE: Free shipping applies to orders to US/CANADA only. If you place an international order, expect an email from us requesting first class shipping cost, which is $5-6 US, based on your location.
"Lay the pieces of languaged life of your, next to one another, they were moved from, they moved, me. If I don't misunderstand you, KLG, you are coding these pieces of languaged, life, as poetry. It is very good poetry. I think, of poets who bring a day, into the poem—Leslie Scalapino, Larry Eigner, Joanne Kyger—Lorraine Graham on a bus in California—and I am given pause, is changing, misunderstanding can, get to, life through, this." —CATHERINE WAGNER
Review at HARRIET/POETRY FOUNDATION by Gina Myers:
"K. Lorraine Graham’s The Rest Is Censored also takes a look at the day and what one does to get through it. And it captures concern of not wanting what is expected: 'Wake up in a panic / about real estate / about not wanting it.' It also captures a life lived variously, which includes panic as well as connection to others and beauty.'
"The wide-ranging exploration of a life reminded me that there are so many others (perhaps all poets?) who are trying to figure out how to live, and while they may not arrive at any answers, the journey is well worth it.
"The Rest Is Censored reminds me of Fanny Howe’s essay 'Bewilderment,' where she offers one possible definition of the lyric: '[I]t is a method of searching for something that can't be found. It is an air that blows and buoys and settles. It says, "Not this, not this," instead of, "I have it."' Howe describes serial poems as spirals, and writes of the spiral-walker, '[T]here is no plain path, no up and down, no inside or outside. But there are strange returns and recognitions and never a conclusion.' Poetry makes sense to me for this reason: it is willing to raise questions and be happy to not arrive at answers."
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