Lavender Ink is a small publisher of poetry and literary extravagance in New Orleans.

Books

For Bookstores and Institutions

Perfect Bound Books:

  Tim VanDyke: Topographies Drawn with a Divine Chain of Birds

  Moose Jackson:  The Loup Garou: A Lunar Cycle

  Jake Berry and Jeffrey Side:  Cyclones in HIgh Northern Latitudes

  Hank Lazer:  Portions

  Jesse Loren:  Screamin' Mimi

  Thaddeus Conti:  aepoetics

  Joel Dailey:  
    My Psychic Dogs My Life

  Brad Elliot:  +love

  Dave Brinks:  The Caveat Onus

  Frank Sherlock & Brett Evans:
    Ready to Eat

  Megan Burns:
     memorial + Sight Lines

  Marthe Reed: Tender Box

  Randy Prunty: Fish Log

  NOLAFugees: Year Zero

  Hank Lazer:  Days

  Richard Martin: Boink

  Joel Dailey: Lower 48

Saddle Stitched Chapbooks:

  Andy Young

  Dave Brinks

  Joy Lahey

  Camille Martin

  Alex Rawls

  Vincent Farnsworth

  Andy di Michele

Books by Bill Lavender:

  transfixion (Garret County /
    Trembling Pillow)

  I of the Storm (Trembling Pillow)

  31 Poems (Lavender Ink Chap)

  Another South (Alabama UP)

  While Sleeping (Chax)

  look the universe is dreaming

      (Potes and Poets)

  Guest Chain (Video Press)

   Baddog

Fieralingue
(Poet's Corner)

NOLAFugees

17Poets

Trembling Pillow Press

Chax Press

Big Bridge

Ubu

Electronic Poetry Center

E•ratio Postmodern Poetry

Moria

Tata Nacho

University of New Orleans

Ezra, a Journal of Translation

Blogs

Anny Balladini's poetry blog project

Charles Bernstein

Jake Berry

Brad Elliott

Skip Fox

Jesse Loren

Ron Silliman

CompleteFiction

 

from Fish Log

butterfish   i dream the dream of the nondreamer who dreams the undreamable dream. i dream i dream of cream. i dream of cream and the uncreamable, the uncreamable cream. i dream the dream cream, the creamy dream. the dream cream spreads and creams itself over periwinkles and sassafras and azure jeeps. like a dream the dream cream sprouts and the sprouts are soy, creamy soy. soy is the dream bean. it makes me dream creamy soy dreams. i dream smooth as cream in a dreamy land o'lakes where dreamy fillets swim and dream of lemony batter.

resulting tunnel   I realized but said nothing feeling hurtled. Feeling thrown back in. Expecting a reward I unstuck my sucker. You must think I lean toward pendulums. Fish might think I know only the can opener. Eyes tell lies in caves to pretend they still have something to do. Blotchy but trembling half as much I wonder what it feels like. We should all wake and sleep so lucky. Like cave sharks giving their body to the rock to seal the crypt and lapidify their bones.

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