Truth Thomas (Photo: Melanie Henderson)
Truth Thomas is a true triple threat—a poet, musician, and publisher—and for the past several years he has been an integral part of the Little Patuxent Review family, serving as both a guest editor and a member of the Board. If you’ve interacted with Truth, you’ve seen the sincerity and heart that he brings to everything he does. It is Truth’s voice that we turn to in moments when the rest of us are at a loss for words.
So when Truth shared last month that he would be stepping down from our Board, I knew his voice needed to appear on our blog one more time (for now). The entire LPR community is grateful for everything Truth has given to LPR and wish him the absolute best, but will miss him dearly!
Many thanks to Truth for answering these questions.
Sara Burnett is the author of the poetry chapbook Mother Tongue (Dancing Girl Press, 2018). Her poems have appeared in Barrow Street, Bullets into Bells, Matter, Poet Lore, SWWIM, and elsewhere. She holds an MFA in English literature from the University of Vermont. She lives in Maryland with her husband and daughter.
Sara’s poem “Cherchez la Femme” appears in LPR‘s Summer 2019 issue. This week, she answered a few questions about that poem and her writing more generally.
Holly Bowers is the online editor for the Little Patuxent Review. In this post, she shares her staff pick from the Summer 2019 issue.
Reading a poem is like staring at the surface of a pond. It might look still at first, but if you gaze at it for a few minutes you start to notice all the life teeming within it—insects buzzing across the surface, frogs and fish leaving ripples where they poke their heads above water, turtles sunning themselves on a log.
I learned how to close-read poems using the sonnets of William Shakespeare. I was astonished at how many layers of meaning he packed into those fourteen lines, and ever since have found immense pleasure in digging into a poem’s text. In “Sonnet for My Cousin Xiomara, Who Tried to Teach Me How to Dance Salsa,” Alejandro Pérez reminded me of that delight.
Karolina Wilk has an MA in writing from Johns Hopkins University. Her work has appeared in the Susquehanna Review, PennUnion, Maryland Life Magazine, and the Potomac Review blog, where she is an associate editor in fiction. She was a finalist in the 2016 Crazyhorse Fiction Prize and a quarter-finalist in the Nimrod 2016 Literary Awards. She works as a writer and editor and lives in Frederick, Maryland.
Karolina shared an excerpt from her story “Gossamer” at Little Patuxent Review’s reading last Saturday. The full story appears in our Summer 2019 issue.
Karolina’s essay is part of our regular “Concerning Craft” series.
A recent Sunday morning found me in the Athenaeum in Old Town Alexandria, pen poised and ready. Bright sunshine streamed through the windows as the other audience members and I waited for the speakers to take the stage. We were gathered for a panel on writing grant and fellowship applications, part of the inaugural Emerging Writers Festival hosted by Old Town Books.
The panel was fantastic. I could hardly write fast enough to keep up with all the wisdom that panelists Jennifer Baker, Hannah Bae, and Caits Meissner shared. I left thinking, “Wow, I hope this becomes an annual event!” Luckily for all of us, it will.
Afterward, I caught up with the festival director and owner of Old Town Books, Ally Kirkpatrick.
Benjamin Inks is a Seattle native who graduated magna cum laude from the Ohio State University. He’s a purple-hearted veteran who writes whenever he can, aspiring to one day turn his passion into a career. He resides in Northern Virginia.
Benjamin’s essay “The Psychology of Concealed Carry” appeared in LPR’s Summer 2019 issue. His guest post is part of our regular “Why I Write” series.
George Clack is a member of the Little Patuxent Review’s Board of Directors. In this post, he shares his staff pick from the Summer 2019 issue.
A poem in the flesh is not the same as a poem on the page. Each time I attend a Little Patuxent Review (LPR) launch reading, this old truth is brought home to me. In June it was Tom Large reciting his poem “October” that reminded me.