Laynie Browne

 

Laynie Browne is the author of ten collections of poetry and two novels. Her most recent collection of poems, Lost Parkour Ps(alms) is out in two editions, one in English, and another in French, from Presses Universitaires de Rouen ed du Havre (2014). Her work appears recently in The Norton Anthology of Postmodern American Poetry (2013) as well as Ecopoetry: A Contemporary American Anthology (Trinity University Press, 2013). Her honors include: a 2014 Pew Fellowship, the National Poetry Series Award, the Contemporary Poetry Series Award, and two Gertrude Stein Awards for Innovative American Poetry. She is co-editor of I'll Drown My Book: Conceptual Writing by Women (Les Figues Press, 2012) and is currently editing an anthology of original essays on the Poet's Novel. She teaches as University of Pennsylvania and at Swarthmore College. Forthcoming books include Scorpyn Odes (Kore Press) and P R A C T I C E (SplitLevel Texts).  literature


 

"These poems in prose are instructions for (not interpretations of) dreams and, as such of intrinsic value. They take fully into account 'what is lost,' 'what cannot be told,' 'the missing object,' the 'no one to blame.' They ring true."

—Keith Waldrop

"with a knowledge of what has come before, Laynie Browne charts the processes of natural phenomenon by means of a lyric tuned to the harmony of the spheres. Pollen Memory marks the journey of a poet who listens to the important things that most of us take for granted—it is both hypnotic and wise."

—Lisa Jarnot

 

 

 

A poem with rainbowish pixels for Pollen Memory

by CA CONRAD


 

 


On Pollen Memory

Memory was written primarily during the summer of 1992. I wished to locate a form which would approach, and continue itself. It looked something like a square, but behaved more like a spinning wheel. This was my first book-length endeavor. I worked in part from notebooks. Lines were pulled from pages, poems coaxed from lines—until a process emerged. The small weight of the breath line, followed by the body, or the demi-weight of the poem. The work seemed to generate itself. Returning to a passage I was met, as if expected.   

 

From Journals During the Time of Composition   

Let me not argue with form now. Occurrences restrain themselves meaningfully so. 

. . .

a b a b a b a b a b

. . .

Remember always, these words, my allies.

. . .

Inclusivity.

. . .

Things cannot always go as planned, but must they always go?

. . .

Would it or would it not be good if a person could actually read all there is to read in one lifetime? What would be remembered?

. . .

A voice which came before, which came after, one cannot remember. 

. . .

The job of the writer; we are guests here (on earth) and must meet the other inhabitants.

. . .

What are my thoughts during sleep?

. . .

There is no natural light in the city.

. . .

Pulling up anchorage from blue vasts of chemical. I too hung on a word tree.

. . .

Why make an image still if you do not allow the observer to move its dimensions at will?

. . .

Clock or promise; calculation or meditation?

Light poured out into a meadow, much subletting.

. . .

Which music will provide the proper setting?

. . .

Unwrapping the forest, a mirror. Uncovering the lens, a jewel.

 

 


First editions of Pollen Memory are available at Small Press Distribution

  

Pollen Memory will be republished in the forthcoming

T E N D E R   O M N I B U S

The First 25 Years of Tender Buttons Press