Salad Box Poems, by Eleanore Tisch

Salad Box Poems, by Eleanore Tisch

Vendor
Bottlecap Press
Regular price
$10.00
Sale price
$10.00

Poetry, chapbook, 48 pages, from Bottlecap Press.

Am I Poem or am I Person? Prophecy or policy proposal? A decaying piece of meat or Piscean dream come alive on deceased trees? Is this, am I, a burial ground, a bussing territory, or something less              tethered?”

          - Our Salad Box, speaking of herself

For the poet, these poems are a location. Where academia intersects poetry - a place of knowing that is both learned and instinctual. Where institutional dulling of curiosity is met with resistance by an insatiable mind and a deep trust of body. Where wounds leak love and containers can’t help but leave traces on their contents.

A location that poses a question. Where are the borders of our person - and are there these borders and who’s put them here? Where do students keep secrets and how well kept are our gardens?  From where do wounds come if not plastic edges? From where do wounds come if not politics?

"Phenomenology of refuse; deep time in the grime under your nails, your feet, your tongue. In Salad Box Poems, Eleanore Tisch is sending signals from beyond the permapixelated veil of tomorrowland, from the overstimulated organic source. (Here we are, still needing what we don’t, still loving what we must, and it gets us into trouble; we are in a lot of trouble, and walls are good excuses for doors. How might we attend to our aversions and speak in some semblance of song? What better to be about trouble than a poet?) This is chalk on the concrete of your walk to work. This is your friend. This is your friend in cityprayer, never more starkly familiar, wide as awake can be."

-Joseph Braun, The Lune

"No one writes like Eleanore Tisch. The speaker in Salad Box Poems gives her readers an environmental and societal lesson via show-and-tell. She falls to her knees and plays in the mud with cute-cuffed jeans. She points to litter, gives it language, and reads us labels. "Here. Here. Here." This poetry is to be read aloud. The anthropocene is to be acknowledged. The Salad Box is to be mourned. And Tisch's language is to be absorbed. Bravo to Eleanore, the truest poet I have ever known. <3"

-Shy Watson

Eleanore Tisch, your poet, is a mischievous water creature, born and raised in the city of Chicago. She is a proud product of Chicago Public Schools. Sometimes an academic, sometimes a scalawag, always infatuated with language, she swims through the world attentive to minute moments of compassion - and it’s opposite. She received her B.A. in Writing & Literature from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics and her M.A. in Education Foundations, Policy, and Practice from the University of Colorado – Boulder. She encourages (and would be honored to engage with) questions, call-ins, and dissents of her work.