Sibling Rivalry Press: The Queer South

56º ~ a cold front arrives, sweeping from NW to SE, bright autumn sun slanting sideways, leaves floating down one moment and hurtling down the next as the wind comes up

As the literary scene in central Arkansas has expanded over the last decade, one of the great additions to the party has been Sibling Rivalry Press. I've been fortunate to get to know Bryan Borland and Seth Pennington, and it's probably no secret that I'm a fan of their work. For those unaware, SRP is a champion of LGBTIQ authors, but is an inclusive press. While straight myself, I'm not one to get hung up on labels. I read for the love of poetry, and so do Bryan and Seth, based on the quality of the work they produce.

Awhile back, Bryan reached out and asked if I would blurb a new anthology, The Queer South, edited by Douglas Ray. My policy on blogging is to say "yes" whenever I can, schedule permitting. As it happened, I had the time, so Bryan sent on the proof of the book. As I scrolled to the table of contents, I saw Dorothy Allison, Richard Blanco, Jericho Brown and many more "established" voices. However, right there at the top, alphabetically, was John Andrews, and I started to smile.

John Andrews was my student at the Arkansas Governor's School about a decade ago, when he would have been a rising high school senior. I've had the great pleasure of knowing John as he completed his undergrad degree and then went off to get a graduate degree in creative writing. Now his work shows up in journals and anthologies, and I just smile and smile. I can't claim any huge influence over John's work, as I only taught him for six weeks one summer; however, I still count him as one of mine. To see four of his poems in The Queer South sealed the deal. I read on with delight.

Without further ado, here's my blurb:
In The Queer South words emerge, blazing, from the red clay, the kudzu, the streaming rivers and creeks, and the sun-cracked city streets. Poems and essays wrestle the ghosts of history, ghosts that don't fight fair, hurling religion, race, and gendered expectations, alternating between shouts of bravado and whispers of shame. Yet, these love poems, coming out stories, and, yes, even songs of rejection, win by laying bare the skin of any reader's heart.

At nearly 300 pages, The Queer South is a hefty anthology, and one I strongly support.

Here's John Andrews' "The Heart is a Shotgun House" to get you started.

The Heart is a Shotgun House

*
no hall

three rooms
rubbing up against
each other

a house without
a backdoor

in the living room
smell every spice

the pots
boiling over

the wind
through the bedroom
window

*
we made moonshine
in the bath

put all the bottles
on the front lawn

to bathe them
in moonlight

left the tap
running

kissed

on the porch

*
I caught him eating
leftover spiced apples
in the midnight kitchen

after sleeping
with a shotgun

you'll pull the trigger

aim for anything
in the dark