we ARE doing it
“What if poetry, currently mostly confined to cafes and alleyways, really had a chance to impact the main street community?” “What if poets, as the therapists of culture, said what only they can articulate and the community responded?” “What if poems, each an individual godlette, shone out into the community one every week to remind …
Continue reading “Poetry UNCENSORED – in the Boulder Weekly?!” a loudmouth editorial by Marcus If
The first weekend of Beyond Academia Free Skool Summer Poetry Camp has passed and it was a mixed bag of emotions... June 30th A riotous inspiring good time reading Richard Brautigan’s June 30th, June 30th on Pearl Street with Rob Geisen. July 1st Outside at Boulder Writers Warehouse along the North Boulder Farmers Ditch, the …
Continue reading “BAFS Summer Poetry Camp Intro Weekend Recap and What’s Next!” by Cicada Musselman
Since its establishment in 1946 (the fulcrum of 20th Century poetry), the Academy of American Poets’ Chancellor’s Board (the Academy started in 1934) has brought together the mainstream of university poetics under a ‘court of the land’ banner to promulgate the art of verse. The continuous influence of the New Critics is evident in the tenure …
Continue reading Academy of American Poets: A Can of Beans? – A Loudmouth Editorial by Marcus If
By UrWill Rocks! Rising high up above, the waxing Moon… The North American black bear visited summer poetry camp a few times this year; always by itself, generally around midnight, and never afraid. Large-lunged snorts, breaking branches through the leafy raspberry patch, a shadow as soft as a 70 ton steam-powered excavation loader – with …
Continue reading Submissions for LoveShovelReview camp edition due TOMORROW!!
What exactly is BAFS Summer Camp? What might one experience while at Love Shovel Ranch? How are the classes organized? What kind of people can attend a BAFS class? Will I fit in? How free is it? These are some …
Continue reading The Beyond Academia Free Skool Summer Poetry Camp Preview by Scarlett Levi
A wild and mysterious spell is cast upon any venturing soul who steps upon the dusty Rocky Mountain peaks, who breathes in the cool pine-scent air of the continental glaciers, who shields their eyes from the bright elevated sun of a world this much closer to god and to nature.
High up in the pined mountains, near miles to the continental divide, there is a high altitude meadow watered by a glacerial stream. And just before some towering rocky cliffs, a shadowed northern valley murmurs a trickling creek; playing a nature tune. There is a buried rusty shovel, a square shovel, which has …
