Painted Bride Quarterlys Slush Pile

Jason takes the helm of our artisanal editorial process today when KVM is called away at the last minute. It’s always our hope that our discussion will be instructive for both the poet and our listeners. Come along as we consider two poems from Zachary Kluckman. In the first, “The Lineated World,” the haunting ballroom image reminds Sam of the medieval era’s danse macabre. This lyrical, reflective poem is full of memento mori once we start looking, from moths to meringue to the scent (stench?) of the corpse flower. Jason appreciates how the use of enjambment torques the line and adds pressure to each sentence. The haunting continues in the second poem with a memorably spooky scarecrow. We discuss how this poem’s structure, with its longer line and single stanza, impacts the poem’s pacing. And we ponder stillness versus inertia. Something in the poem’s ending recalls Naomi Shihab Nye’s The Art of Disappearing. Join us as we throw thumbs. Thanks, as always, for listening.    At the table:  Tobi Kassim, Samantha

At the table: Eric Baker, Dagne Forrest, Tobi Kassim, Jason Schneiderman, Kathleen Volk Miller, Lisa Zerkle, Lillie Volpe (sound engineer)   We made it back from AWP, Slushies! Welcome to any new listeners who have joined our audience since seeing us there. And please join us in welcoming our longtime reader, Eric Baker, to the table.    We’re honored to discuss three poems from Jane Zwart. Once again, we call on Jason’s knowledge of meter and syntax. Here we look at how the recursive syntax, like the memory of the woman in the poem, loops back on itself. The poem’s epigraph places the reader in the cultural moment of the Great Depression and World War II era. Inherited family treasures, like Noritake China, carry memory. The poem echoed, for Dagne, one of Michael Montlack’s poems from Episode 144.   The team is charmed by Zwart’s use of unexpected words like “redoubt” and “hypotenuse” in the second poem. Kathy notes that the poem is successful at conveying sentiment without slipping into the sentimental. She

Episode 137: Collective Effervescence (ENCORE) While we're on AWP hiatus, we’re bringing back an encore episode of the Slush Pile. Listen to Episode 137, Collective Effervescence, where we dive into poems by Han VanderHart. If you want to hear more of their work, Han will be reading at the Virginia Festival of the Book the weekend after this episode drops. Info about festival : https://vahumanities.cventevents.com/event/bookfest/summary?session=397b14b2-a8e5-46e5-97ab-05730c0f5466   Don’t be jelly, but we’re having a blast with three poems from the poet Han VanderHart in this episode! You can join in on the fizzing of our collective effervescence by just tuning in. We find the conversation naturally turning towards John Berger’s Ways of Seeing, taking in the pipe as a fairly recent newcomer as a punctuation mark in poetry, and the concept of absolute zero, alongside much, much more. Poetic themes of truth, love, and the power of “No” sit at the center of our conversation. Oh, and Marion deftly keeps Kathy in

We’re going deep today, Slushies. Kathy and Tobi school us on the origin of the word “podcast” with its roots in both early Apple technology and agricultural lingo (think broadcast of seeds). In this episode we’re broadcasting our appreciation for poems by Erin Evans. We admire Evans’ sound work and her ability to craft powerful lines with plain language. In the first poem, the poet’s confrontation of medical jargon reminds Marion of Whitman’s poem When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer. An encounter between patient and doctor in Evans’ poem underscores the difference between learning and knowing that recalls Leslie Jamison’s book of essays, The Empathy Exams.    The second poem’s Japanese title evokes the film Rashomon for Jason, who takes issue with the notion that our writerly imaginations are limited only to the words available in our own language. Schadenfreude, anyone? We’re digging the close focus on language in these poems. Marion appreciates that the poem elevates a term she initially passed off as one

We’re so over the snow and ice, Slushies. Join us as we cozy up to three poems from Hilary King. We admire the first poem’s warm nostalgia towards old technology and its recollection of a burgeoning appreciation for art. Sam notes how well the poem’s title prepares the reader for the poem that follows. The pairing of the projection of art and the projection of memory intrigues Jason. The setting in an art history class sends Sam to the Julia Roberts’ movie Mona Lisa Smile, also set in 1953. Whether mothers or daughters, we consider how much we can know about another person’s interior life.     Kathy puts on her bad cop hat, but in the nicest way possible. We’re thinking about the importance of sharply observed details and how they can focus a poem from the general to the specific. In the final poem we’ll clarify whether we’re talking about drunk aunts or drunk ants and why either would be preferable to a drunk uncle. And Dagne questions what duties an epigraph can or should perform.   Slushies, if you’re atte

It’s not often that it happens, Slushies, but it’s always a treat when it does. We’re switching to fiction for the day with “Colfax,” a flash story from Patricia Q. Bidar, author of the short fiction collection Pardon Me for Moonwalking. Spoiler alert: read the story first in the show notes or listen to the story in full at 41:50 before our discussion ruins it for you. Something about the story’s theme and concision reminds Sam of Louise Glück’s prose poems in her late collection, A Faithful and Virtuous Night. Sam also appreciates how the story allows a female character the same kind of recklessness found in Denis Johnson’s Jesus’ Son. Jason shares his surprising childhood connection to Vacaville, CA, one of the story’s locales. And in his role as bad cop, Jason raises a question about uncanny children. Tune in to find out what he means by that. While we’re all bracing for winter storms, we’re happy to dwell, for a moment, in California Central Valley’s humid and fertile atmosphere. As always, thanks for lis

We welcome in the new year with a full house today, Slushies, as we discuss two poems from Cal Freeman. The first poem’s title glacier reminds Kathy of this year’s epic snowfall in Juneau, Alaska (though it’s forty inches, not forty feet, of snow). All that snow reminds Lisa of Boston’s Vile Pile of snow that would not melt until July. Kathy deftly segues that memory back to our own slush pile. We admire Freeman’s use of sonics in “Glacial Erratics” and the poem’s subtle gestures towards relationship strife. We all agree we’re stealing the poet’s apt description of “overwrought craft beer.”    Since the second poem, “A White Bird,” is a classic Italian or Petrarchan sonnet, the discussion of iambic pentameter that ensues might be helpful to any teachers in the listening audience (as well as KVM’s brother, Dave). Have a listen as we nerd out on meter. All the sonnet particulars lead Marion to admit what it is that gives her a secret intellectual boner.    We end with lots of fodder for your TBR pile. Listen th

To allow our team time for a holiday recording hiatus, we’re sharing an encore episode from the Slush Pile archive. This episode, from December 2022, features two poems by poet Nick Visconti, “Burial” and “Unmake These Things.” It also marks the first appearance on the pod by our managing editor, Dagne Forrest. We’ll be back next time with new poems and new guests. In the meantime, enjoy this look back. As always, thanks for listening.   How much meaning do you need, Slushies? When language lingers, when images form a spiral, a murmuration, might a poem’s mood hold meaning close to its heart and simultaneously at bay? And, also, how do you pronounce ‘ichor’? All this and more in a rollicking conversation about poet Nick Visconti’s new work, “Burial” and “Unmake These Things.” And speaking of things, listen for Samantha on Anne Carson’s zen koan dollop of insight from Red Doc>: “To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.” Or for Kathy and Marion confessing their North Carolina ritual groping of

It’s a banner day here on the pod, Slushies. We welcome a very special guest, American Poetry Review’s Elizabeth Scanlon to the table as we discuss three prose poems from Sara Burant. Dagne sends out birthday wishes to Canada’s own Margaret Atwood while Lisa shows the team her Margaret Atwood-as-saint candle. We note the recent poetry trend towards raising the profile of female visual artists whose work has been overlooked during their lifetimes. Artists like Sonia Delaunay, mentioned in Burant’s poem “Fields,” and Hilma af Kilmt, whose art inspired Didi Jackson’s recent book “My Infinity.”  The mention of a clay pipe in one poem sends Marion running for a treasure her husband found while mudlarking. Kathy cops to her blue-collar resistance to a precious ars poetica and we discuss what it takes to win her over in the end. Elizabeth relates how John Ashbery likens waiting for a poem to a cat’s finicky arrival. We note Frank O’Hara’s notion of “deep gossip,” name checking his own friends along with celebri

Early winter weather has us pondering an alternate definition of “slush pile,” albeit the mucky, grey residue remaining after a city snowfall. Our Slush Pile is far more fresh, but still a wintry mix as we discuss the short story “Catherine of the Exvangelical Deconstruction” by Candice Kelsey. You might want to jump down the page and read or listen to it in full first, as there are spoilers in our discussion!   The story is set on the day of the Women’s March, following 2017’s Inauguration Day, but only references those events in the most glancing of ways. Instead the protagonist glances away to an array of distractions: Duolingo, a Frida Kahlo biography, a bat documentary, European architecture, banjo music, a stolen corpse flower, daydreaming, and actual dreaming. In the withholding of the protagonist’s interiority, Sam sees a connection to Rachel Cusk’s Outline, while Jason is reminded of early Bret Easton Ellis. The editors discuss how fiction might evoke the internet’s fractioning of our attention, by r

In this our second episode discussing work from poet Eli Karren, we’re shifting timelines, story lines, wine time, and coffee time. We welcome special guest, Tobi Kassim, as part of the podcast team for the day. (We’ll be “sprinkling” special guests throughout the upcoming season!)   We dig into Eli’s richly detailed poem “Franchise Reboot” which nods to David Lynch’s nineties TV phenom, Twin Peaks, along with the Museum of Popular Culture, Ikea furniture, Matthea Harvey’s poem “The Future of Terror,” and Wandavision, among other touchstones.   The team questions some of the advice we’ve received on what should or should not be included in poems: dreams, color lists, center justification, cicadas. It’s an airing of pet peeves, Slushies. And then we decide to get over ourselves. Tune in with a slice of cherry pie. As always, thanks for listening.   At the table: Tobi Kassim, Kathleen Volk Miller, Marion Wrenn, Lisa Zerkle, and Lillie Volpe (Sound Engineer)    @eli.james.karren on Instagram  Eli Karren is a poe

At the table: Dagne Forrest, Samantha Neugebauer, Jason Schneiderman, Kathleen Volk Miller, Lisa Zerkle   This recording had a rough start, Slushies. We’re talking technical difficulties, disappearing dogs, and tomato-eating cats. But we rallied in time to discuss two poems from Eli Karren. Jason hails the Whitmanian, associative line found in these poems. We’re taken with the specificity of detail, right down to botanical names and brands of beer. And speaking of Whitman, Kathy shares this scathing review of his then newly published Leaves of Grass. Lisa gives a shout out to Asheville as they welcome visitors one year after Hurricane Helene. Sam remembers that nearby North Carolina mountain towns stood in for the Catskills in the movie “Dirty Dancing.”  And we close with a poetry book recommendation, Gabrielle Calvocoressi’s The New Economy, just named to the National Book Award’s Short List. Stay tuned for our next episode, also featuring a poem from Eli Karren. As always, thanks for listening! Eli Karren

When Marion pops up on Zoom with her curls blown out to smooth newscaster perfection, it’s a hot topic and one that offers a perfect lead-in to the first poem up for discussion, “Your Hair Wants Cutting” by this episode’s featured poet, Michael Montlack. The three poems we’re considering take inspiration from the Mad Hatter character in Lewis Carroll’s Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. We discuss, Slushies, how much, if any, contextual framing is needed to guide the reader when poems refer to a character who resides in our collective imagination. We also talk about local and regional idioms, and for Kathy, how difficult they are to unlearn (shout out to Pittsburgh!). Marion accidentally bestows a new nickname on Jason. Dagne has an opinion about how speech is rendered within a poem: italics or quotation marks. She’s team italics, Slushies, which are you? While thinking about the line in these poems; Marion refers to Jason’s excellent essay on the history and theory of the line from his book Nothingism: Poe

Episode 143: Do They Still Have Bulletin Boards?     Our discussion of Alyx Chandler’s poems has us considering the liminal space between girlhood and womanhood, summer and fall, print and digital cultures, good bug and bad, Slushies. With these poems, we’re swooning over summer’s lushness, marveling over kudzu’s inexorable march, and thinking back to steamy afternoons running through sprinklers with skinned knees. Set at the end of girlhood, these poems makes us think of the Melissa Febos book of the same name. Jason is charmed by the poet’s hypotactic syntax and her control of the line. Be sure to take a look at the poems’ format at PBQmag.org.     As our own summers wrap up, Lisa saves monarch caterpillars while Sam smushes lantern flies. Kathy shares her new secret for a solid eight hours of sleep. Looking to the future, we’re celebrating forthcoming chapbooks and books. Dagne’s chapbook “Falldown Lane” from Whittle, Jason’s book “Teaching Writing Through Poetry,”  and Kathy’s “Teaching Writing Through Jo

While our team is on a brief recording hiatus, we’re sharing another encore episode from the Slush Pile archive. This one is from late 2017 and found Jason still in his bathrobe. Nick Lantz published a new collection of poetry in 2024 “The End of Everything and Everything That Comes after That”, and we love an opportunity to celebrate our past authors. Sidle up to our virtual editorial table and take a listen to an episode that considers three poems by Nick Lantz.   In this episode, the editors review three poems by Nick Lantz: “An Urn for Ashes,” “Starvation Ranch,” and “Ghost as Naked Man.”  As a child, Nick Lantz was obsessed with paranormal phenomenon and the unexplained, from cryptids to aliens to ghosts… Present at the Editorial Table: Kathleen Volk Miller, Tim Fitts, Sharee DeVose, Jason Schneiderman, Marion Wrenn, Samantha Neugebauer, Joe Zang (Production Engineer) For the first and possibly only time, we were in a recording studio within Drexel University’s LeBow College of Business, which made us fe

Summer scrambled us, Slushies, from UAE to North Carolina, from D.C. to Scotland and back, from North Carolina to New York City, and to Philly, of course. Phew! Sam has just returned after a month-long residency through the Hawthornden Foundation in Scotland in an actual castle where she worked on her novel. The crew came together on Zoom to discuss two poems by Elvira Basevich, “Beautiful Girls” and “Pallas Athena”. The first poem transports Kathy and Marion to their teenage days on the Jersey shore. For Marion, the ending of the poem with its Beauty in the bathroom mirror, recalls the energy of Ada Limón’s “How to Triumph like a Girl”.     The discussion of “Pallas Athena” notes the poem’s foresight to mark a memory as it’s made, which sends Marion to Wordsworth’s Tintern Abbey and has Lisa mis-marking that poem as the one with daffodils. Imagining the future while in the past also reminds Marion of André Aciman’s discussion of arbitrage and Tintern Abbey in the New Yorker. We talk about endings, Slushies,

What’s a person to do when they love visual art, but don’t share the gift of creating it themselves? Poet Janée Baugher, whose work we discuss in this episode, displays her love of art through ekphrastic poetry. She’s even written a book on the form, The Ekphrastic Writer: Creating Art-Influenced Poetry, Fiction and Nonfiction (McFarland, 2020). Slushies, you’ll definitely want to take a look at these poems and their unique formatting before you listen to the podcast. The poems we discuss center around Andrew Wyeth’s paintings and come from Baugher’s forthcoming 2026 collection The Andrew Wyeth Chronicles, selected by Shane McCrae to win the 2023 Tupelo Press Dorset Prize.   Along the way, Jason shares his travel mishaps and coins a memorable new moniker for Greenville-Spartanburg. Our South Carolina diversion leads Lisa to Hub City Writers Project and Kathy to The Swamp Trail. We talk about poetry-as-footnote, which we also chatted about in Episode 110. Dagne, in thinking about artist’s models, recommends a

Like the movie of the same name, the poems we discuss here, Slushies, take on the cares of the world in an unrelenting torrent. In this episode, we discuss three poems by Harriet Levin which reference the Haitian writer and artist Frankétienne, Barcelona’s as-yet unfinished Sagrada Familia cathedral, and the constellation of Orion, (for starters). We think about how poems featuring babies can avoid the sentimental (as we ultimately decide these do). We end considering the picture book chaos found in Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are as a counterpoint to real-world displacement. At the table: Kathleen Volk Miller, Jason Schneiderman, Samantha Neugebauer, Lisa Zerkle, Jodi Gahn, Lillie Volpe (sound engineer)   With thanks to one of our sponsors, Wilbur Records, who kindly introduced us to the artist is A.M.Mills whose song “Spaghetti with Lorraine” opens our show.  Harriet Levin is the author of three poetry books, The Christmas Show (Beacon Press, 1997), Girl in Cap and Gown (Mammoth Books, 2010), a

Slushies, we invoke the retelling of a ghostly experience shared by Kathy and Marion at the Hotel Figueroa in California earlier this year partway into this episode. Two poems by Jen Siraganian are at the heart of our discussion, and it’s the first of these that puts ghosts into our heads. This poem also causes us to consider at some length the physical form chosen by or for a poem, and how this can utterly enhance the experience of the poem when it’s just right. It’s also an opportunity for Jason to raise the spectre of the virgule (or slash) once again, and we even pause briefly to recall when WYSIWYG was a useful acronym. We end the episode with an ekphrastic that prompts an on-the-spot tie breaker (thanks to our sound engineer Lillie for saving the day!).   https://whitney.org/collection/works/2171 https://www.nga.gov/collection/highlights/gorky-the-artist-and-his-mother.html  At the table: Kathleen Volk Miller, Marion Wrenn, Lisa Zerkle, Jason Schneiderman, Dagne Forrest, Jodi Gahn, Lillie Volpe (sound

Episode 137: Collective Effervescence   Don’t be jelly, but we’re having a blast with three poems from the poet Han VanderHart in this episode! You can join in on the fizzing of our collective effervescence by just tuning in. We find the conversation naturally turning towards John Berger’s Ways of Seeing, taking in the pipe as a fairly recent newcomer as a punctuation mark in poetry, and the concept of absolute zero, alongside much, much more. Poetic themes of truth, love, and the power of “No” sit at the center of our conversation. Oh, and Marion deftly keeps Kathy in the conversation when technology unexpectedly steals her voice! (Be sure to check out the painting Truth Coming Out of Her Well, the inspiration for the first poem, an ekphrastic, that we discuss. It’s a painting that has inspired some cool tattoo art!)   At the table: Marion Wrenn, Kathleen Volk Miller, Jason Schneiderman, Divina Boko, Lisa Zerkle, Dagne Forrest, Lillie Volpe (sound engineer)     Han VanderHart grew up on a small-scale farm i