Eileen R. Tabios is a poet working in multiple genres and in-between. She also loves books by writing, reading, publishing, critiquing, romancing and advocating for them. This blog will feature her bibliophilic activities with posts on current book engagements and links to her books and projects related to books.

Friday, January 27, 2017


Wow. An unexpected feature on Moi over at Leafe Press' LITTER Magazine! As in


As they say, I'm gobsmacked. Thanks to editor & reviewer Alan Baker, interviewer John Bloomberg-Rissman, reviewer Valerie Morton and avatar Angelo Suarez. The new poems are from a manuscript, HIRAETH.  And here's the "Author Photo" they chose from googling me.

From Valerie Morton's review of I FORGOT ARS POETICA:
There is continuous movement in these poems which hop from place to place within the mind, hardly allowing the reader a breathing space, and like a musical concerto reaching great heights and lows, twists and turns.  Although I never quite comprehend the “you” throughout this work, I do enjoy the mystery of trying to fathom whether this is the country left behind, the one waiting ahead or a lover, a parent, a friend. But this seems unimportant as whichever way it is read it comes back to the same thing—loss/discovery, displacement, loneliness, passions, fears—eventually settling in acceptance and re-discovery of the true sense of the self re-emerging and free. The ‘you’ becomes what you want it to. And yet the reader never becomes “resigned” —there are forever more questions to be asked.

There are passages of rare beauty, there are striking phrases and cadences, and there surprises on every page: 
I forgot meagre pity.I forgot omission as confession.I forgot dungeons waste marble. 
And always, throughout the sequence, there is an abiding sense of mystery: 
I forgot her hobby of attending to deathbeds – afterwards she always lusted forhotel lobbies stuffed with crystal chandeliers 
By generating these poems, and by using her own past poetry as raw material, Tabios has breathed new life into the “I remember / I forget” form, in a way typical of this inventive poet.

Thank you, Universe.

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