Michael Robbins' first poetry collection, Alien vs. Predator, shares only a passing reference with Ridley Scott's Alien
universe (the last 30 years of which we recap here). Still, Robbins' verse has latched onto audiences, sales
charts, and contemporary American poetry at large like a facehugger -
and it shows no sign of letting go any time soon.
many, poetry slams are like open mike nights or not-drunk-enough
Karaoke: powder-kegs for some serious collective embarrassment. It
can be stifling, that shared awkwardness between strangers. You never
quite get used to it, the unease; what is that? Delusion? Social
subtext? A moment of unforgiving clarity? It's sort of like a mumblecore
sex-scene: you know awkward when you see it.