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MOST RECENT OPA NEWS

  • NFSPS News: Oregon Poets Place in National Contests

     

    Eleanor Berry, OPA President Emerita, has recently completed a two-year term as President of the National Federation of State Poetry Societies. At the 2016 NFSPS Convention in Minnesota, she handed the gavel to her successor, Jim Barton of Arkansas. She will remain on the NFSPS Executive Board for two more ... Read all of this item.


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LATEST UNIT NEWS (EXCERPT)

  • ROGUE VALLEY

    ROGUE VALLEY

    The Down Towne Poets, a monthly reading held in Dan and Sarah Goyette’s Down Towne Coffee House, in Talent, was started in 2005 by Deborah Thornley, who moved to Tucson in 2007, leaving the program to be coordinated by Dave Harvey. Co-host Carol Brockfield and he have continued to ... Read all of this item.

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LATEST BOOK REVIEW (EXCERPT)

  • Avenida Uriburu by Michael Hanner, reviewed by Sara Burant June 1, 2016

    Avenida Uriburu by Michael Hanner
    Chandelier Galaxy Books, 2015
    Available on Amazon.com for $6.00 plus s & h

    Avenida Uriburu Reviewed by Sara Burant

    Perhaps not coincidentally I was reading Avenida Uriburu on a train. It was raining steadily. Outside, shapes and colors ran together. I forgot where I was then remembered a jacket I wore as a child. Seeing the jacket that wasn’t there but curiously was, I regained my bearings: reading a book of poems situated in Buenos Aires on a train heading into Oakland, California. “Without images we tend to lose our way,” wrote James Hillman. Avenida Uriburu is a book concerned with images and bearings, with the extent to which one can and cannot orient oneself in territory at once familiar and strange. In lieu of compass and map, poet Michael Hanner both engages the art of noticing and constructs ... Read all of this item.

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MOST RECENT POET’S SPOTLIGHT

  • Featured OPA Contest Winner: Amy S. O’Hearn April 30, 2015

    Fences

    were meant to climb over and woods dense with underbrush and muck our domain. We hacked through prickly bushes, trampled long grass, collected burrs on our clothes and in our hair, clear cut canopies to lay bare the soft earth, and sat for hours stripping bark to carve the skin that lay beneath. When that grew tiresome, we traipsed to the lowlands to construct a catwalk of doors over swamp and shape an inner sanctum within its towering reeds, until the day my father forced me to lead him to my brother’s towering collection of pornographic magazines. A tower quite impressive in the way it leaned so markedly to the right yet remained standing, almost as tall as I was at 8 or 9. I try to envision my father’s reaction, but all I can see is the tower of glossy magazines, his own stash transferred by my brother from ... Read all of this item.

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