Letter from the Editor

Finally, some children of Santa Fe Springs, students of a Brentwood private school, a San Francisco boxer-in-training and a literary figure of the 19th century Decadent movement have something in common—besides, that is, their basic humanity. They have Speechless, Fall 2005. And—of course—they have poetry. For proof turn to “Early Bloomers,” “Poets in Progress,” “Poetry Goes to the Fights,” and “Re-Discovered,” reprising the wafting, lovelorn verse of Ernest Dowson.

Also in this issue Cheryl Klein of Poets & Writers, Inc., takes over the “Guest Star” page to introduce, or—for those already well aware of this marvelous organization—deepen our knowledge of, one of the West’s most important funders for individual writers. And Cheryl presents a selection of poetry and fiction from the P&W staff members, a reminder that these people who’ve helped so many writers are writers themselves.

“In Memoriam” commemorates a clever and vivacious poet known to nearly everyone who attends readings and workshops here in L.A.: Anne Silver, 1951–2005.

Because Steve Kowit’s smart and sparking essay on trends, debates, and skirmishes in and around contemporary poetry seemed too good to dole out in one chunk, we’re serializing “On the Mystique of the Difficult Poem,” published in Poetry International a while back but still quite fresh.

Speaking of fresh—and we are—turn to liz gonzález’ “In Review” for more breezy brain storms. ariel robello discusses Kamau Daáood’s The Language of Saxaphones.

There’s almost too much to read nowadays, and so much to do, therefore we offer “Small Festival of Short Books”. Two, that’s small. Chapbooks, they’re short. Tyler Williams and Carolyn Howard-Johnson are featured here.

Those who prefer cheap tabloid sensationalism should go straight to “The Paparazzi File”. It’s the best we can do—please, try to act shocked.

And there’s more, so much more. But, in fact, I lie. That’s all there is.

—Suzanne Lummis, Editor

Speechless Spring 2007
Copyright © 2007 Published by Tebot Bach