The Sunken Eyes of the Doughboy // An Interview with Poet Jennifer L. Knox

Jennifer L. Knox is a trapeze poet toeing the line between absurdism and realism with buckets of humor. She unwinds with wild words. Her four books of poetry are full of debauchery enthusiasts, loosened flannel, and half-gulped bottles of liquid relax.

BirdMan from Jenni Morello on Vimeo.

"How do you trim a parrots beak?" I asked Brian on my first trip. 

"I wouldn't recommend it unless their diets are deficient." 

"Really?" 

"No way—I've had one drop dead in my hand from the stress of it and I'm very, very good at it."

I'm in great company in the new issue of Spork. Thank you, Richard, for giving a fine home to five insane poems.

Two more of my poems have been added to the Academy of American Poets database. I'm deeply honored be in such esteemed company.

Hive Minds

Hive Minds - Riding in the car with my mother, I never graduated from the back seat to the front.

The Cliffs Above Oswald

The Cliffs Above Oswald - New fronds unfurl from the joints

Last night, I asked Collin to see his holiday light sketchbook, where he's supposedly been keeping detailed ideas for potential displays all year. I bought some metallic star stickers to mark the designs I approved. It was my idea for him to maintain the sketchbook, and—if I do say so myself—an excellent one. Well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. Every page was blank. Fifth year in a row. So I guess it's back to a strobe light on the lawn and an airhorn hooked up to a motion detector. Like we're friggin' animals.

I'd like something like this, but with light-up animatronic Yodas, birds and mushrooms instead of the baby Jesus. 

[Gulp] Here's an excerpt from the memoir I've been working on! First time it's ever seen sunlight or felt the caress of strangers' eyes! Thanks again, The Inquisitive Eater and Laura Cronk, for having me.

Poet of the Month: 'Culinary Memoirs of a Non-Chef,' by Jennifer L. Knox

"What are you writing these days?" my old friend asks, not looking up from her 12 dollar taco. We have not seen each other in years, only emailing occasionally to vent. In my case: about work. Sometimes I swear I'm going to have a heart attack, there's so much work to do, but the older I get, the more work I create for myself.

The third installment for my Poet of the Month gig at The Inquisitive Eater from The New School. This one's for you, Big Bobby Bergland! Thanks again for having me, Laura Cronk!

Poet of the Month: 'The Visitors,' by Jennifer L. Knox

Jen, come look at this. What is that? A woodpecker. That thing's huge-like a raccoon! Why's it on the ground? Grubs. What is it with the grubs? * So that bird we saw this morning was really a northern flicker. How'd you find out? I Google-imaged "woodpeckers." Flickers are in the woodpecker family.

And it's all true. Those folks know how to eat. Thanks, again, Laura!

Poet of the Month: 'Yogyakarta,' by Jennifer L. Knox

In the first hotel, an icky river of ants moving under the black wool blanket. In the houses, ceilings were low and the windows small-inside anywhere was always dark. Hawkers in the market needed lamps in their stalls by noon, but not when the light was more even, like dawn.

Poetry

100! after Josef Albers I am trying to convey the big emotions-ecstasy, doom. I am looking at neither the wall nor the red bowl awash with intention, crushed berries, euphoria, that plush stain. It is a meditation. Color shakes itself from the canvas, the canvas from its wooden frame.

I love The Journal, and I'm so happy this poem found in its new issue. It was inspired by this episode of Criminal: A Podcast