brendashaughnessy.bsky.social
Poet, friend. Wrote Sensorium Ex, an opera, with composer Paola Prestini (2025.) Books of poetry: TANYA (Knopf 2023) The Octopus Museum (Knopf 2019) So Much Synth (2016) Our Andromeda (2012) Human Dark w/ Sugar (2008) Interior with Sudden Joy (1999).
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Omg the BEST news!
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I’m so moved! & it’s such a glorious anthology! ❤️💐✨
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Wow. Yes. Thank you for posting this.
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My heart sank so fast.
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Right with you. I got a zine stapler!
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This poem is stunning! Congratulations Finola! ✨
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What a literary treasure! “That’s me.” Crossed-out “fake” grass! Also admire how the narrative arc fits perfectly in the space.
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Exactly. Fascism only tolerates fascist art (like AI.) Real art (human imagination, ideas) is a public condemnation & a direct threat.
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And if not a single loved one reads a single word, buying books (from Books Are Magic, for example) still helps keep them in print & moving thru the world as real objects written by real writers for really important reasons, at a crucial moment.
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Timothy Snyder’s On Tyranny comes in a nice compact stocking-stuffer size. I pair a “complicated” book w/ a slim book of poetry, so the recipient immediately feels drawn to the tidiness, the finish-ability of poetry. Maybe they read an actual poem!
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Omg next level—I’m haunted forever by my own giggles from this.
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I love your posts!
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ADNËRB is a customizable shelving system. Never quite right for the many spaces you’ve tried to use me in. Plastic corner-guards pop off easily.
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Omg it’s like our secret invisible twitter thread… we existed!! And so does this dolphin I read of here on Bluesky! Hi poet friend of page and screen!
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The elusive work/life balance, in the wild.
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This has been my life for so long I can’t remember the Before. Always come back to poetry, tho (reading, discussing, writing.) Somehow it’s still there, reminding me where I left off (caregiving same.)
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This is much more elegant than what I’m thinking but look at this project: pencilmagazine.com just getting back to the pencil.
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I’ve been writing sorta hyperproductively since Thursday. I think it IS my way of grieving, or at least how I’m processing/staving off/incubating/encrypting grief. If I’m writing, I’m not numb and frozen. But I’m also creating another little zone-I-can-control to exist in. Ugh. Sending hugs.
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It’s disorienting but things start to make a tiny bit of sense. ✨
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In terms of inner-resources, it feels like I’m writing, an activity which burns premium fuel, but I’m on basic-functions setting!
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I am not the author of this poem! Maya C. Popa wrote this beauty!
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I guess there is no Answer.
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Omg yes!
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In hindsight, it’d behoove us to say “nay” to such pedquestrian distinctions.
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Omg not between the emails & the seltzer!