Instead of starting with a blank page, poet Austin Kleon grabs the New York Times and a permanent marker and eliminates the words he doesn’t need. — NPR's Morning Edition
One can imagine taking up blackout poetry on their daily bus commute in place of sudoku or the crossword puzzle. — Toronto's National Post
Sort of like Michelangelo carving away the marble that imprisoned what he saw within. — Cleveland Plain Dealer
“…a kind of Rorschach approach to reading newspapers…” — Wall Street Journal
“[A] sense of play infuses the poems—short pieces that touch on first sex and outer space, in a voice that slips from funny to elegiac…” — Austin Chronicle
“…hidden bits of Zen lite that occasionally bump up against brilliance….Kleon manages to turn the paper of record into visually stark nuggets of poetry and wit. All the Muse That’s Fit to Print, you might say.” — Texas Monthly
“Highbrow/brilliant…It’s better than it sounds.” — New York magazine
“Part ‘writing with constrictions,’ part happy accident, part found art, part design challenge...the collection...gives a well rounded and consistent view into a guy most of us would want to buy a beer.” — Radio Exile
“[The poems] resurrect the newspaper when everyone else is declaring it dead…like a cross between magnetic refrigerator poetry and enigmatic ransom notes, funny and zen-like, collages of found art…” — The New Yorker
“Some of the results are hilarious, some are profound and even unsettling, but they are never bland or boring.” — The Ephemerist
[The poems] resurrect the newspaper when everyone else is declaring it dead…like a cross between magnetic refrigerator poetry and enigmatic ransom notes, funny and zen-like, collages of found art…
Some of the results are hilarious, some are profound and even unsettling, but they are never bland or boring.
…a kind of Rorschach approach to reading newspapers…
…hidden bits of Zen lite that occasionally bump up against brilliance….Kleon manages to turn the paper of record into visually stark nuggets of poetry and wit. All the Muse That’s Fit to Print, you might say.
Highbrow/brilliant…It’s better than it sounds.
Instead of starting with a blank page, poet Austin Kleon grabs the New York Times and a permanent marker and eliminates the words he doesn’t need.
Sort of like Michelangelo carving away the marble that imprisoned what he saw within.
[A] sense of play infuses the poems—short pieces that touch on first sex and outer space, in a voice that slips from funny to elegiac…
Part ‘writing with constrictions,’ part happy accident, part found art, part design challenge...the collection...gives a well rounded and consistent view into a guy most of us would want to buy a beer.
One can imagine taking up blackout poetry on their daily bus commute in place of sudoku or the crossword puzzle.
…a kind of Rorschach approach to reading newspapers…
[The poems] resurrect the newspaper when everyone else is declaring it dead…like a cross between magnetic refrigerator poetry and enigmatic ransom notes, funny and zen-like, collages of found art…
…hidden bits of Zen lite that occasionally bump up against brilliance….Kleon manages to turn the paper of record into visually stark nuggets of poetry and wit. All the Muse That’s Fit to Print, you might say.
"Highbrow/brilliant…It’s better than it sounds."
Instead of starting with a blank page, poet Austin Kleon grabs the New York Times and a permanent marker and eliminates the words he doesn’t need.
Part “writing with constrictions,” part happy accident, part found art, part design challenge...the collection...gives a well rounded and consistent view into a guy most of us would want to buy a beer.
…a kind of Rorschach approach to reading newspapers…
