Pride Fight

Po­etry zine, Meghan Har­ri­son, meghan.har­ri­, $5

Broken Pencil - - Zine Reviews -

I picked up Pride Fight from a friend’s (now-de­funct) distro af­ter a show and set it down be­side me on the bar while I or­dered a drink. A stranger asked me if it was the menu, but I was forced to ad­mit it was only po­etry. She flipped the book open at ran­dom and started read­ing a poem, and kept on for a few min­utes un­til her friends fi­nally suc­ceeded in drag­ging her back into what­ever. Har­ri­son’s po­etry gets your at­ten­tion like that, even in a tough-sell mo­ment for verse.

It’s the voice I think, drily amused by the in­dig­ni­ties of dat­ing and job­bing, too in love with her rare finds in the scrap pile of young adult­hood to numb out: “If you charged by the hour / to look at your face / I’d be broke / with all my blood pink / in the sur­faces / of my body, a high­lighter / that’s flagged ev­ery place / I’m ready to be touched.” These are po­ems for the post-uni femmes in black t-shirts who still go to con­certs and still give a shit.

You def­i­nitely get bang for your buck in terms of word­count from this slim self-pro­duced fold-and-sta­ple job: these are ver­bose po­ems, dense with de­tailed sim­i­les that spin-off into their own sto­ries. For ev­ery blunt nar­ra­tive like “the chron­i­cles of sar­nia II” (which gives us the un­for­get­table

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