Check back at the end of October 2016/beginning of November 2016 for the results!
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Exit Theater by Mike Lala

September 15, 2016

Congratulations to Mike Lala, the brilliant author behind In the Gun Cabinet, for his award-winning debut poetry collection, Exit Theater, forthcoming from the University Press of Colorado’s Center for Literary Publishing. It is now available for preorder. To celebrate Mike and his extraordinary achievements, we are pleased to offer a free epub of In the Gun Cabinet to anybody who preorders Exit Theater. In the Gun Cabinet is part of the larger collection of Exit Theater, but the chapbook published with TAR also has its own unique elements apart from the main book—scattered images, a one-act play, an immersive multimedia performance on the page. When you preorder Exit Theater, send the receipt to us at theatlasreview [at] gmail [dot] com and we will send you an epub of this heartstoppingly good chapbook. It will be just what you need to prepare yourself for the politically gutted expanse of Exit Theater.
You may purchase it from any of the following vendors:
UPC (publisher and distributor)
Barnes & Noble
Read a sample of In the Gun Cabinet, a brief interview with Mike, and a trailer documenting the printing process of this beautiful chapbook here. And make sure you preorder the crap out of his book! Congrats, Mike!
Cover design by Emily Raw
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Selfless: a preview

July 7, 2016

To call Zoe Dzunko’s poems wild is a temptation I have fallen for so many times and it would not be inaccurate to describe them as such. But these words and their bevy of applications occasionally miss the point, misrepresenting a complex and cerebral journey as a feral wilderness, removing agency (re our heroine) from the epic, and presuming an analog between the natural and the inscrutable darkness of the troubled mind. Nothing wrong with that, except that in being captivated by the frenzied lyric, one might not hear the knotted thread of her rhetoric and academic insistence. It is true that you experience these poems from your guts outward and it is true that you experience a deliciously rare sublime rush while reading, but it is also true that Zoe writes hard, with unequivocal precision and might. She is smart as hell, and the medium of the poem only demonstrates one small surface on which she capitulates and recapitulates her intellectual grievances. Insofar as these poems also address trauma, hunger, consumption, and a quasi-religious disbelief, Selfless is a chapbook of remarkable trouble. It is with the utmost pleasure that we present a small preview of Zoe Dzunko’s Selfless by publishing one of her most harrowing emblematic poems, “Pudendum.” In addition, Zoe and I had a great conversation about her chapbook, which follows the featured poem. Also included in this blog post is a chapbook trailer conceived of and edited by Emily Raw, a transpacific collaboration between Emily and Zoe (Zoe lives in Australia; Emily, Brooklyn). If, upon experiencing this trailer, the hairs stand straight up on your neck and you feel you have become a bereft witness of the private life lived, that’s a completely normal sensation. Emily, n.b., is also the cover designer of this gorgeous book. I hope you have the opportunity to pick up Zoe’s chapbook before they disappear. This is a poet of extreme talents. Remember her name.
—Natalie Eilbert, publisher of TAR Chapbook Series/The Atlas Review

Yes, I have crawled. Splayed the bed,
been fucked or flushed to red-raw
by the domestic. I’ve had my finest ideas turning
dishes in the sink. I dry them off.
Take my sleep on silk to stave the sagging. I did
I do because of guilt — a shame I can never sever,
a limb I cannot cut from limbs
of which it ballasts: one for my mother,
another for my daughter, already blushing
at the thought of her own life. Did I gape,
breathe in time with the bleeding? Did I tear
with the tear when I birthed her,
this notion of mine, or was it yours all along?
i.e. stay very hungry, i.e. remain on the brink
crumbling with starvation. I have housed
and wifed and tried to grasp within the loop.
You do not wish to hear the truth,
the ways it might ruin for you the taste of meat.
We have not always been willing. By we:
your girls. By you: the world. I did not elect you
president, I did not, although I did invite you
to the party of my body. You looked at me,
you saw a hole. A void from which you might be
filled, unfledged, or unfleshed — a [...] Continue Reading »
Dear readers,
We are excited to release our inaugural online issue—and you’ll notice a feature right away, and that is, we made the decision to divide Issue 6 into many “episodes” over a period of time. Think of it like a Netflix drama. Or perhaps more precise, like a pre–Netflix television series on cable, where you must wait for the next installment with bated breath. Whatever your preferred metaphor, the germ of this idea is simple. For Issue 6, we accepted approximately thirty pieces of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction. As had been our heretofore process, we wrote rich letters to all accepted contributors and switched gears from readers to production staff. Unlike previous iterations, we had already determined we would no longer be in print. Printed matter tends to languish, only being savored by the few. This is an unfortunate reality to any paper effort and one struggle we decided was an unnecessary one to continue battle. Why vote once when you can vote twice? So we compromised on our desire for the physical object by announcing our new project, TAR Chapbook Series. We would create beautiful, small-print runs of already-immaculate chapbooks, establishing the urgency of artifact; we would create a gorgeous and completely visible online platform for our journal contributors, establishing the urgency of voice; and, with the money saved in not printing hundreds of issues, we would pay (albeit a nominal amount) all of our contributors. It’s a superb win on all fronts, we think, and we hope you feel this too
Now, onward the actual contents of Issue 6, episode 1. Our technologist, Jue Yang, worked tirelessly after many awesome conversations over the last few months with web designer extraordinaire Angela Protzman and myself to produce the looks and feels of the new interface. We wanted readers to feel entirely immersed in the experience of reading this innovative, often genre-melting work. And with this immersion, we did not want readers to feel at any point daunted by the mass quantity of extraordinary work (and to be sure, it is all extraordinary). That is the most essential of desideratum—our desire for others to truly engage the work, the internalize and meditate on art with space still to breathe. Think of it as a museum made up of many galleries, should the Netflix metaphor not be adequate (and of course, it’s not). In these lavender and orange and pink and green and blue rooms, we present you with our first episode’s contributors, Kofi Opam, Tafisha Edwards, Diane Exavier, Shauna Barbosa, Adrian Silbernagel, Theis Ørnthopf (translated by Julia Cohen and Jens Bjering), and Ruth Baumann. It is absolutely a curated house—each of these pieces travel our senses down the body’s viscera, the alien village, the intentional animal of our curiosities. As Kofi Opam tells us in their heartbreaking essay, “Dating Dysphoric,” “Let me tell you about bodies, and about blood.” “Take your bloodless / body back to bed and forget // you have a voice,” Tafisha Edwards seems to reply in “How to Drain [...] Continue Reading »