The University of Nebraska Press is celebrating National Poetry Month in two special ways. First, we are pleased to announce a 50% off sale on all poetry collections! Enter 6PM20 in the promotion code field of your shopping cart and click “Add Promotion Code.” Offer expires April 30, 2020 and is good on U.S. and Canadian shipments only. Click here to view the books on sale. Second, the Backwaters Prize in Poetry competition is now open! The winner will be awarded a $2,000 cash prize and the honorable mention will be awarded a $1,000 cash prize. Both winners will be awarded the … Continue reading Happy National Poetry Month!
John Sibley Williams serves as editor of the Inflectionist Review and works as a literary agent. He is the author of four poetry collections, including As One Fire Consumes Another, which won the Orison Poetry Prize; Disinheritance; and Controlled Hallucinations. He lives in Portland, Oregon. He is … Continue reading From the Desk of John Sibley Williams: Don’t Assume It’s All True
The Fascicles of Emily Dickinson First of all, such a fussy word—little bundles of nerve sewn up and plunged in a trunk, sewn with a needle that must have pricked her, and how she must have sucked her finger promising … Continue reading Commentary on “The Fascicles of Emily Dickinson”
A Nebraska native, Mary K. Stillwell has studied writing in New York and, with Ted Kooser, on the plains and earned her PhD in plains literature from the University of Nebraska–Lincoln. She served as coeditor of Nebraska Presence: An Anthology of … Continue reading From the Desk of Mary K. Stillwell: 2018 One Book One Nebraska
The following has been excerpted from Exiles in Sepharad: The Jewish Millennium in Spain by Jeffrey Gorsky (Jewish Publication Society, 2015). Chapter 6: A Golden Age of Poetry A New Hebrew Posey The exposure to Muslim culture fostered the emergence of … Continue reading EXCERPT: Exiles in Sepharad
The following contribution comes from Connie Wanek, author of Rival Gardens: New and Selected Poems (Nebraska, 2016), in honor of National Poetry Month. Rhubarb It’s April, your last chance to get the flu. Across the landscape, all that remains healthy is now flexing and sprouting. The first dandelion blooms at the foot of a south-facing wall. A hungry hare, winter-white with an earth-brown shoulder patch, promptly arrives to nibble, its eyes neatly placed on the sides of its head, alert to danger from any direction. The ground is still mostly frozen, but on a warm afternoon in just the right patch … Continue reading From the Desk of Connie Wanek: Rhubarb Rises