• Conference Update

    OPA’s annual conference begins Friday, October 2nd, at 4:00 PM! Networking, coffee, meet and greet: then join us for the annual General Membership Meeting at 7:00 PM.

    Judith Barrington headlines as keynote speaker at lunch on Saturday, October 3rd.

    Saturday evening, we have a special treat: Blackfish Gallery hosts us for a ... Read all of this item.

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    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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  • Reverberations from Fukushima: 50 Japanese Poets Speak Out, reviewed by Ruthy Kanagy January 9, 2015

    Review by Ruthy Kanagy

    Reverberations from Fukushima: 50 Japanese Poets Speak Out

    Edited by Leah Stenson and Asao Sarukawa Aroldi

    Inkwater Press (Portland, Oregon)
    ISBN: 9781629010656
    2014, 192pp., $14.95

    3.11.11 is a date forever imprinted on the memories of Japanese and other persons who were in Japan on that fateful day. A massive tsunami launched by a ‘thousand-year’ magnitude 9.0 earthquake inundated 400 miles of Pacific coastline north of Tokyo – about the distance from San Francisco to Los Angeles. It took the lives of 18,000 people and swept away farms, homes, fishing villages and whole cities. In the days following, multiple hydrogen explosions and meltdowns at the Fukushima Daiichi (No. 1) Nuclear Power Station, 160 miles north of Tokyo, forced the evacuation of 140,000 citizens who had to abandon pets, livestock, farms, and businesses, tearing apart centuries-old ways of life.

    Almost four years later, we ... Read all of this item.

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


    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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