Andrew Lundwall's poetry has appeared in numerous print and electronic literary journals internationally, including La Petite Zine, RealPoetik, Tight, Action Yes, indefinite space, Seven Corners, PFS Post, Big Bridge, Shampoo, Moria, Near South, Miami Sun Post's Mad Love, 88: A Journal of Contemporary American Poetry, Otoliths, rock heals, and Blazevox. He has released four chapbooks, klang, honorable mention, little america, and funtime, a collaboration with Adam Fieled. He currently lives in NYC.
Perhaps I am too literal-minded to "appreciate" abstraction, but I just didn't "get" most of these poems. They did not speak to me; they did not effect me, except to make me feel confused and hopelessly plebeian for being confused. And then I remembered something Donna Hightower Langston wrote in this bridge we call home: "Writing that uses language that excludes most [people] is not feminist... why not write in formats that engage rather than exclude?" I am reminded that writing is for me a wholly different exercise than what it is for most of the poets I will likely find here, and so there's no reason for my feeling apologetic for this poetry not working for me.
These eight abrupt poems break apart our habitual expectations and never let us drift... they take us where "gifts bosom/of opened theme amid mind" and "every tree is its own apocalypse".