nival: selected poems is the first i&o press chapbook. It is the only text written without the guidance associated with established institutions. This handmade collection is a deviation—an untamed tryst of free verse and naïve perception. This work was written when the author was twenty years of age, subjected to inclement weather in the rural town of Oberlin, Ohio.
In time, we accustom ourselves to some family’s pronatalist plenum.
We remind fly-by scabs how much we love them when wearing pink.
Sum total = four inside + stricken travesties synchronized for Pleiades.
And does your life play out in a passé hodgepodge (oh, I’m unseen)
resonate in a deeper feigned black tarpaulin of you—fabric too heavy?
If you’ve picked sides, please be sure to get a refund for the show.
walthall 13 is the second i&o press chapbook released. This text is a time-sensitive, site-specific work written while assisting the author's father with the aftermath of his third divorce. A handcrafted assemblage of estranged father-daughter dialogue, constraint-based repetition and concrete poetry, walthall 13 was written while the author was simultaneously helping her abandoned father find his way again in the world.
moot is the third i&o press chapbook. It is a conceptual writing exercise of non-fiction prompts—declaratives, questions, observations, attacks, criticism—expressed by others to the author during the course of her life (e.g. relatives, unrequited loves, mentors, strangers). All of which received "no comment," response or explanation from the author, leaving each communication unresolved. By definition, moot is either an “official” refusal to relay any further information as a response to a question or a point which is perceivably debatable or irrelevant. Handcrafted and written during a mild Swedish winter, this collection of words aspires to cancel each other out—to create a blank slate or void.
“I never would have agreed if I would have known it was going to turn out this way.”
“I don't need anymore friends.”
“You're quite right; I'm barely human.”
“The control or implied loss of control in either scenario, that I seem to exert or not, really doesn't do anything for me, despite your best wishes.”
“Thank you for not mentioning the words suck, fuck, sex or blow in your introduction.”
“You won't remember any of this one day.”
“I propose to you there is no top to be reached here; we're both pretty much gutted.”
“I hate you. Hate as in envy.”
“My recent efforts to sever our relationship reflect the commonality and baseness of my conception of romance. I have all along, yet only recently so obviously, patterned my behavior after some sort of standard, the adherence to which is indicative of unoriginality on my part and disappoints you.”
“My conceit isn't as drastic as you suppose.”
“We're not on the same level.”
“Please don't turn out to be a stupid cunt.”
“If you would value the acquisition of certain types of knowledge according to their supposed utility, I'd ask you: how do you know anyway what will or will not be utilizable, even in the crudest and most material of ways, in our upcoming lives, in the world into which we'll soon be unwittingly, and unpreparedly, plunged?”
“We don't need no stinkin' badges.”
“You suddenly seem like someone who is in my way.”