Move over, Virginia. There's a new Wolf embarking on a celebrated career in letters, and she's fierce enough not to lessen her bite with double O's. I'm talking about my dearest friend, Abby Wolf, who found out yesterday her poem "What Mr. Silverstein Forgot to Say" (correct me if I got that wrong, Abby) is forthcoming in the North Central Review.
The poem is quite dazzling, taking the reader beyond the safety of where the sidewalk ends and into the confusion and redemption we find in little things as young adults, like Abby's startling image of a cigarette butt wedged between sidewalk cracks. Strongly evocative, she lets images do most of the talking, and the poem unfurls into a rich landscape of the cultural debris associated with coming of age in the South.
Did I mention this is Abby's first publication? Published the first time she ever sent anything out! And she's just 20-years-old, a junior in Creative Writing at the University of Central Arkansas.
For the Conway folks, hug her neck, give her a pat on the back, buy her a cup of coffee, throw her a coronation ceremony next time you see her. For everyone else, post your congratulations here, and I'll pass them on to her.
Also, I'll get the poem up as soon as I get the poet's permission.
Congratulations, Abby!
4 comments:
I read a whole bunch of your entries but I didn't want to enter my comment in a random place, so I am telling you I think I love you!!! Not in a scary stalker way, but in a you tickle me to death way!!
And, yay Abby!!
Thanks, Candance. Once upon a time, I could dance, too. I like your blog lots. Let's keep up the correspondence.
Thank you!!! Keeping up the correspondence is the most divine idea I've heard all day. You're going into the Google reader!!
your write-up is better than my poem!
haha. i love it! thanks for the encouragement.
:)
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