New summer school workshop series: Experimental Ecopoetics

Excited to deliver this four-part workshop series in August for the87press, alongside two other courses by the brilliant Verity Spott and Jessica Widner. These will be cosy sessions on Zoom and feature a range of small press poetries, which we will read, write from and discuss in two hour workshops.

About the Course

Ecopoetics is a capacious term, meaning something like ‘the incorporation of an ecological or environmental perspective into the study of poetics’ (Kate Rigby). As both a creative and critical practice, ecopoetics explores the relationship between literature and the more-than-human world, often in curious, radical and transformative ways. Ecopoetics offers a fieldwork, site of experiment and a tool for (un)dwelling: tuning into ideas of environmentalism, activism, climate crisis, landscape, documentation, dreamwork and lyric. Ecopoetics is not just witnessing; it is an active engagement with habitats, affects, sensing, solidarity and politics — including questions of gender, race, sexuality, land rights and embodiment. On this course, we’ll stray from dominant canons of ‘green’ literature and onto alternative pastures: offering a broad introduction to ecopoetics through particular focus on Anglo-American small press poetries. Each session, structured as a combination of seminar and workshop, will involve reading, discussion and writing activity around themes such as everyday life, elemental thinking, dream and radical ecologies. We’ll investigate key terms such as animality, weather, nature, landscape, energy, the body, time and coexistence through works that expand our notion of who or what speaks in a poem, and where or what is ‘Nature’. Open to anyone with an interest in poetry and ecology, the sessions presume no prior experience with writing workshops, and sharing work in class is not required. A core reading list will be provided freely in the form of electronic extracts, with further suggested reading also listed.

Sign up here.

Marble Zone

My whole blood is this lava. I’ve been playing an iPhone emulator of the original Sonic the Hedgehog, a game we used to rinse for hours on the Megadrive at my cousin’s house as kids. Playing it now, I find passing through the levels extremely, maddeningly difficult. It might be the iPhone controls (I’ve been mourning the loss of BUTTONS ever since my last Blackberry in 2013) or it might be a general disintegration of spatial awareness and emotional regulation. Pushing boulders around, dodging spike-tipped chandeliers and rolling gushes of lava really sets my blood boiling. The land behind me is on fire and there’s not much time to hang around. But one thing I notice, as my lil Sonic sprite navigates the game, is that I can hear my cousin’s tween voice in my ear and my own silent childhood learning and listening. This is really comforting. Sweet tips she had about ring sites, springs on high, a hidden extra life. I keep dying in the game but I remember something of childhood. I don’t really have landscapes to easily go back to. The years behind me are on fire, but Marble Zone remains.