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poet

Lee Ann Brown

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Lee Ann Brown

Lee Ann Brown was born in Japan and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina. She attended Brown University, where she earned both her undergraduate and graduate degrees.

She is the author of In the Laurels, Caught (Fence Books, 2013), which won the 2012 Fence Modern Poets Series Award, as well as Crowns of Charlotte (Carolina Wren Press, 2013), The Sleep That Changed Everything (Wesleyan, 2003), and Polyverse (Sun & Moon Press, 2000), which won the 1996 New American Poetry Competition, selected by Charles Bernstein.

Brown has held fellowships with Teachers & Writers Collaborative, Yaddo, Djerassi, the MacDowell Colony, the International Center for Poetry in Marseille, France, and the Howard Foundation.

In 1989, Brown founded Tender Buttons Press, which is dedicated to publishing experimental women’s poetry. She has taught at Brown University, Naropa University, Bard College, and The New School, among others. She currently divides her time between New York City, where she teaches at St. John’s University, and Marshall, North Carolina, where she directs the French Broad Institute (of Time & the River) and the Children’s Arts in the Mountains Program.
 


Selected Bibliography

Poetry

In the Laurels, Caught (Fence Books, 2013)
Crowns of Charlotte (Carolina Wren Press, 2013)
The Sleep That Changed Everything (Wesleyan University Press, 2003)
Polyverse (Sun & Moon Press, 2000)

multimedia

Lee Ann Brown: Poetic Inspirations

Lee Ann Brown: Poetic Inspirations behind "In The Laurels, Caught."

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by this poet

poem

Sheaves of wheat in cement relief
Supply the beauties of Archer Ave.

Past the scaffolded brick church spire
We turn on the vacant corner lot

Through winds worthy of Hopkins (Gerard M.)
New words — Alexus — Everything must go

“Include everything in poetry”
Even

poem
Come on, you who remembers your dreams
who acts upon them in this world
Come you who I often and silently call
so that I may be with you
Come and sustain me
and I will sustain you 
with what sustenance I have
with the curls of revolutionary quiet
with lovely baroque convolutions of thought
Come make
poem

The child asks, bringing it to me in handfuls.
We stop at the Walt Whitman Service Area—
No sign of Him save some “Democratic Vistas”
& “Drum Taps” on a plaque near the Micky D’s

Let’s go find the grass
I say to my two-year-old beauty and
We pick one blade from the median