Founded in 2002 as an online literary journal, Tarpaulin Sky took the form of 12.5 internet issues (see the archive) before its first paper edition in November 2007. The magazine continues to publish new work both online and in print, often curated by guest-editors.
Tarpaulin Sky focuses on cross-genre / trans-genre / hybrid forms as well as innovative poetry and prose. The journal emphasizes experiments with language and form, but holds no allegiance to any one style or school or network of writers (rather, we try to avoid some of the defects associated with dipping too often into the same literary gene pool, and the diversity of our contributors is evidence of our eclectic interests—eg., John Yau, Matthea Harvey, Juliana Spahr, Brian Evenson, Dodie Bellamy, Brian Henry, Brenda Iijima, Rebecca Brown, Laura Mullen, Bill Luoma, Chris Abani, Douglas A. Martin, Laird Hunt, Eleni Sikelianos, Bin Ramke, Ethan Paquin, Michelle Naka Pierce, Renee Gladman, et al). Several of our past contributors were first published in our magazine; many had published only a few times before; and other Tarpaulin Sky contributors have published numerous books and received numerous awards (the Glatstein Award, Fence Books Alberta Prize, Ruth Lilly Poetry Fellowship, Slope Editions Book Prize, Sawtooth Poetry Prize, National Poetry Series, Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize, Whiting Award, Iowa Poetry Prize, Field Prize, the Lambda Literary Award, to name a dozen and leave out more) along with grants and fellowships from the likes of NYFA, the MacDowell Colony, the Camargo Foundation, the Karolyi Foundation, and the NEA.
Tarpaulin Sky is an established force in the underground of contemporary American poetry. If nothing else can be said about the founder, Christian Peet, he has set the mold for poetry in the age of the internet. Peet has turned his literary journal into a powerhouse of a press pouring out trade paperbacks and hand crafted books with an quality that you can only find with small publishers.
This past week I found in Wilson Library a copy of The Pictures by Max Winter. The first thing I couldn't help but notice when I grabbed the book off the shelf is that it looks and feels like it is a part of the Pocket Poets Series. The soft black and white cover instantly rushed memories and feelings of nostalgia. And then it hit me when I opened up to the first page, this is a complete series of poems. The first half of the book, entitled Still, paints a series of strong cerebral paintings. The second half is pure cinema.
There are two subjects and Winter cover every angle. As with many current chapbooks, there is a common unifying theme; however unlike most, the subject never gets stale. Each poem is its own poem, and the book flows from page one to the finale.
Max Winter's The Pictures is shiny example of what every cerebral artist should strive to become.
So do yourself a favor; check out both Tarpaulin Sky and Max Winter
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