Laura Mullen

"In her eighth poetry collection, which nudges the edge of memoir, Mullen excavates the past in the context of exploring the intricate relationships among experience, memory, and expression. For Mullen, “memory makes us each our own guest/(g)host,” and, in focusing on narratives that resist psychological resolution, she deploys an array of literary techniques to reveal the myriad troubled ways we inhabit our selves."
--Publishers Weekly
“Enduring Freedom [is] a galloping great read, a page-turner, and dazzles with linguistic mischief and wit... I am thrilled by it.”
----Hazel White
Murmur collects an astonishing array of stories into language as a terra incognita occasioning the uncanny and always troubled confluence of the subject, the bodies it inhabits and the linguistic remainder. Mullen animates narrative at the level of its basic semantic pulse. Never since Beckett has the unnamed been so chilling...”

--Steve McCaffery
"Solid and brave and relentlessly inventive."
--Cal Bedient
"A brilliant, utterly original, fully realized work that wickedly out-tropes horror's cliches and devices.... wonderfully immediate, making an exaggerated, rollicking introduction to many of the pre-occupations, rhetorics and methods of experimental poetry."
--Publishers Weekly
"There's a rigor and intensity in Mullen's search for truth that often take her to breathtaking lengths." --C.K. Williams // "Accuracy of spirit and ferocity of intelligence prevail...This is thrilling and exacting work." --Jorie Graham
"Laura Mullen proceeds from near void into a powerful reconstruction of self…After I Was Dead is wildly versatile formally, restlessly roving from verse to prose to epistle and back."—Boston Review

Verge on exhibit at the Hoffmitz Milken Center for Typography

Stetson MFA of the Americas

notebook page & book cover

notebook 1

notebook 2

Enduring Freedom book party in Baton Rouge...

the booklog

"So let's do that."

January 25, 2011

Tags: Harry Mathews, William Wordsworth, bunnies, mountains

"Pick a subject, anyway: daffodils. Look, the daffodils are out. The forsythia's out, too, and the sulangeana is opening its buds. 'Daffodil' will probably always seem sillier than the flower it names. Because of (a) Daffy Dill and (b) Willie Wordsworth and the gushiness that's stuck to the subjects he wrote about. My own history is involved here. I think I was fussed over...for so loving 'I wandered lonely as a cloud' when I was eleven or so. At the time this could only mean yet another distancing from the Real Boys. I'd always excepted the poem from the Wordsworth-I-Don't-Like, but when I think about it now it sounds typically silly: 'lonely as a cloud'? 'Continuous as the stars that shine' is a haunting verse; but even if the basis of the simile is continuity, t compare wobbly daffodils to invisibly moving stars is like comparing white bunny tails to snowy mountain peaks. So let's do that." (Harry Mathews: from, 20 Lines a Day)


  1. April 7, 2011 2:18 AM CDT
    my daffodils on my mountain peaks were my trumpeting nipples on my wobbly breasts before the abortion, mmmmkay?

    turn. walk away. delete.
    - Nancy