Remember a couple of weeks ago when I said I’d be giving away a book? There were so many compelling arguments, but I could not pass up Allen Kromer’s. He went anagrammatical.

Sarah Manguso

O! Sugar Shaman!
Mourns as agha,
sang, “Ah, amours…”
Ragas so human,
ragas so human.

Ragas, so human.

That triple repetition at the end, Kromer, was where you won my heart forever.

In patented Scott Jennings bullet-point format, here’s some miscellany:

• Travis Smith and I wore a path in the highway between Greensboro and Durham this week. On Thursday night, we went out to see Michael McFee and Michael Chitwood read; on Friday, we went to see Natasha Trethewey and Van Jordan. We had the opportunity to hang out for a while after both readings; the chance to be around poets in such high concentration, even if there’s not much talk of poetry, is tonic for the soul. Van and I talked in our last exchange about life after the MFA. Speaking of the intimate connection that the Warren Wilson structure provides to talk about poems, he wrote, “I know how dark it can be.” But I’m starting to feel that I can see what that life will be like, and it doesn’t look dark to me, not at all.
• Remember that song “If You Leave”? Amazon’s offering a free live version, which sounds pretty good.
• Miniature album reviews of stuff I have picked up in the last couple weeks:
  • The Breeders, Mountain Battles - I hope that heaven tastes like carrot souffle from Dillards BBQ and sounds like Kim Deal. If you would like to be thoroughly rocked, listen to “German Lesson.” I suspect German speakers would find their accents deplorable. Whatever, German speakers.
  • R.E.M., Accelerate - It seems impossible that R.E.M., after so many years of middling albums with a few stellar tracks should come back with a stellar album which contains only a few middling tracks. This is the stuff, people. “Living Well Is the Best Revenge” is phenomenal; “Supernatural Superserious,” despite its goofy lyrics that seem so out of place from a guy Stipe’s age, is actually somewhat moving; “Mr. Richards” just flat rocks. I bought the bonus tracks this morning… only one listen each, so too soon to tell for sure, but I think I like.
  • Phantom Planet, Raise the Dead - Disappointment. This is what mediocre pop-rock sounds like. After giving this album a few spins, I’ve come to the conclusion that I want my money back. Not all of it. About half.
  • Nine Inch Nails, Ghosts I-IV - Let me first tell you the story of how I purchased this album: Seeing it on sale for $10 at Target, I tossed it in the cart on a big shopping day with Ladybug. When I got home, I found they’d charged me $13, so I returned it and thought I’d try to catch it on sale. I found it later on Amazon’s download service for $5. Score. Worth $13? Actually, probably; it’s atmospheric, sparse at the right times, and very typically NIN. Which, you know, I prefer to, say, Aphex Twin, who is actually probably the closest comp I can think of for this album.
  • Tristan Prettyman, Hello - I had heard some of her live stuff and got suckered into this, an album which is cute and sweet but entirely overproduced. And you don’t hear me say that often.
• I’m doing my first Sequential Swap in a while.
• Ladybug and I have been working iteratively on Iron Scav 11, Chapel Hill’s most socially retarded scavenger hunt. We have about 40 people who have said they’re coming, but not one team has registered with their members’ names, which means no one yet knows the secret third character.
• Can I just say that as much as I love and support National Poetry Month, I freaking hate this “Poem in Your Pocket” thing they have going this year?  Hated it as soon as I heard the name (proof).

I’ll leave you with this poem, which I read Thursday night at Old Town and immediately took a shine to. Apparently, the publisher feels the same way: this is the sample poem on poets.org.

Among the Things He Does Not Deserve

Greek olives in oil, fine beer, the respect of colleagues,
the rapt attention of an audience, pressed white shirts,
just one last-second victory, sympathy, buttons made
to resemble pearls, a pale daughter, living wages, a father
with Italian blood, pity, the miraculous reversal of time,
a benevolent god, good health, another dog, nothing
cruel and unusual, spring, forgiveness, the benefit
of the doubt, the next line, cold fingers against his chest,
rich bass notes from walnut speakers, inebriation, more ink,
a hanging curve, great art, steady rain on Sunday, the purr
of a young cat, the crab cakes at their favorite little place,
the dull pain in his head, the soft gift of her parted lips.

–Dan Albergotti, from The Boatloads