Since
1996, 2River has been a site of poetry, art, and
theory, quarterly publishing The 2River View, and occasionally publishing
individual authors in the 2River Chapbook Series. Richard Long, the editor of this online zine, has created a visually pleasing and
intellectually stimulating reading experience.
What
impresses me
immediately is the clear
and uncluttered presentation of the material. Nowhere is one ever lost in a
maze of links, without a way out, or home: in the main part of the site, the
navigation bar on the left sees to that. In individual issues, too, the reader can always find
her way back by clicking on icons at the bottom of the page.
The
site archives every issue of 2River
View since its initial publication in Fall 1996.
Each issue features ten or twelve poets, ranging from Robert Creeley and Ruth
Daigon to Michael Graber and Lyn Lifshin.
2River’s
submission policy asks you to submit poems by sending three or four, along with
a brief bio, via email to submit@2River.org.
Only unpublished and uncommitted poems are accepted.
Meanwhile,
there are also nine individual writers whose work is showcased in chapbooks. The 2River Chapbook Series features work by
Coral Hull (the latest chapbook), William Dubie, and Kenneth Pobo, among
others.
In
addition to poetry, 2River has an impressive collection of visual art, which accompanies and illustrates
individual issues, all collected
in one place. There is also a limited supply of Savant Cards, with lines from poems.
River
wares (t-shirts, sweatshirts, and coffee mugs—all at reasonable prices and
sporting the 2River design logos) can be purchased at http://www.cafepress.com/2River.
Interested folks can join a mailing list and receive
updates and news from 2River, or they can join in the discussion at the
discussion board.
What
makes 2River such an outstanding presence on the net? The first is the quality of the
work. In the latest issue, for example, a poem begins with these lines
Thing is, after the man shot the
armadillo,
the dog wouldn't let the poor thing lie.
Clarity, a throat-grabbing opener—the things that
make the reader read on. Or these concluding lines in another poem
I miss slow, swollen lips. Bring
Fresh lilacs, pulled, not cut
Moist from dirt, dragged through
Sand, delicious orange melon to
Drip down our elbows and chins, a
Blood crimson sky buoyant on ocean
Salts at eclipse. Bring Tiger Balm,
Handcuffs, nipple clamps,
We bob away.
Or the deliciously wicked situation in Mom, Dad and the Other Woman—these are
“real” poems, not workshopped-to-death, anemic exercises in ennuie or “look how
clever I am.”
Poems
in 2River aren’t afraid to nudge toward the edge, the place where it may hurt,
the place where things are revealed—not big things, mind you, but the little,
daily epiphanies that come and go, mostly unnoticed, where a rumpled sweater
may give rise to a poem:
I wear a rumpled sweater
every night
green sleeves
tawdry wool
offering bold strings
to every autumn night
aged to the limit
The
reader can recognize herself in these
poems (here are the last
lines of Trina and
the Light):
He sees all too clearly
her taut face
in his hands,
her fear that in the midst
of joy
something will come
and ruin it.
Yeah,
you want to say, yup—that’s the “other shoe” syndrome. How clearly perceived,
and how unsentimentally expressed. I think that’s what can be said for all the
words and the art in 2River.
2River