Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Finishing Line Press Announces the Publication of My First Poetry Chapbook!




Finishing Line Press proudly announces the publication of my first poetry chapbook, From Darkness, Beatitudes.

It has been an exciting process working toward publication of this small, and very dear to my heart, collection of poetry. It has also been somewhat of an emotional challenge. This chapbook holds the expression of some of my deepest, most haunting, poetic meditations. Somehow, delivering this expression into the hands of others was like tearing out a part of myself and giving it away. Inside of that darkness, however, was beatitude: Release.

This is what the poems in From Darkness, Beatitudes are all about. They are about sitting with the discomfort of the darkness, eyeball to eyeball, and heart to heart. They are about allowing the darkness to touch us, and teach us . . . and finally, to grace us with the gifts that inhabit its deepest crevices. 

The advance sales period begins today and runs approximately six weeks. Pre-sales determine pressrun (the number of copies that will actually be printed), so if you would like to order a copy, please do so soon as that would boost my final pressrun! The price of the chapbook is $14, plus $2.99 for shipping, and pre-orders ship June 21, 2014. You can order online by clicking on the following link:


Finishing Line Press is also accepting checks and money orders at:

Finishing Line Press
PO Box 1626
Georgetown, KY 40324

Please send $14 per copy, + $2.99 shipping per copy

By Mail Only: If you are ordering multiple copies, shipping is $2.99 for the first copy, and $1.99 for each additional copy.

* * * * * * * * *

Here is what some writers/editors have to say about From Darkness, Beatitudes:

The lyrical language and subtly drawn message in Nevine Sultan’s poetry reaches in and pulls one inside out, exposing the nerve endings—open, raw, and trembling, to the outside world. Conversely, there is an intimacy in her work, finding only You and She and The Other, a trio of long lost losses and long lost founds, together whispering discoveries ancient and future, known and unknown. Nevine’s poetry is approachable yet ethereal, poignant yet not over-wrought. A fine collection I will read again and again. — Kathryn Magendie, Publishing Editor of Rose & Thorn and author of The Lightning Charmer

Nevine Sultan’s From Darkness, Beatitudes takes the reader on a journey between the line of dreaming and reality, through loss and rebirth, through the greyness of understanding the definition of life. The opening poem, “Freefalling,” begins the whirlwind as we are left helpless and may only witness that around us: “I do not mean to see this thing / this most private of commissions. / But the eye captures / before the mind receives.” This catapults the imagination into places between lightness and darkness—and everything in-between. — Nick Sweeney, Assistant Editor of The Summerset Review

Nevine Sultan’s slender collection generously renders the visceral impact of nocturnal experience that resists the harshness of light. Reveling in the fresh perspective of darkness, the vital signs of life are born midst the shadows. Here steep the haunting questions, the rippling consequences, the oxymoronic beauty of fractured frames. — Judy Wilson, author of Trespass and other Stories and Founding Editor of Yellow Medicine Review

Cover Photo: Natural Justice by Vincent Sanchez

Friday, March 7, 2014

Mutiny

Pleiades, Max Ernst


Some words
are not written, but rinsed,
by the ink of earth and eternity,
gathering the daylight and parsing the night.

Observe their movement
across the ether,

Their phosphorescence
as they trespass the armor of fear,

Their sexualitycoiledand
breathlessas they remain unspoken.

Observe how they pull the light
inside their chambers.

Observe how they paint themselves
out of the shadows.

Observe how their silence cuts me.

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Myrrh and Metanoia

Dark Abstraction, Georgia O'Keefe


I will hold this moment
as though it were a visitation
from angels fallen
out of the heavensfallen
into graceand crying
in noiseless symphony.

Here is my open body.
Here is my uncut hair.

Here is the drunken spiral
of metamorphosis.

Here is the ritual incense
of salvation.

Here…

do not weep

Here…
the crimson tulip.

And here…
the dried up wounds,
faceted with oxidation.

do not wax indignant

Here…
an ingress.

And here…
a perforation
in the perfection
of empty platitudes.

understand

And here, too…
prayerseated in quietude
upon my ribswaiting for the
lamps of the sky to be illuminated.


Words in italics from Baruch Spinoza