The Last Spelling Bee

Nearly three years after his first book, There Is Nothing Poetic About Fish, Benjamin Daniel Lawless is in an entirely different frame of mind. "A lot changed in the last three years," says Lawless. "I got married, for one. It gave me an opportunity to look at the long term, both forwards and backwards in time. Reflect on where I've been and plot out where I might be going." It's obvious that in The Last Spelling Bee, he's doing just that.

Whether he's writing a to-do list for time travellers, spinning a tall tale of how he won his sixth grade spelling bee, or painting a picture of life in a distant galaxy, Lawless' work remains spry and lively, full of humor and surprising moments of mature clarity. For example, in "Spring Cleaning," the volcanic mountain range surrounding San Luis Obispo suddenly erupts, destroying everything human and man-made in the area. "And we deserve it too, living as we do," writes Lawless. "The arrogance of convenience, / our microwave ovens, / the slow drip in the kitchen sink."

Lawless - 28 and living in San Luis Obispo, California with his wife, his dog and his cat - has been writing poetry nonstop for fifteen years. "I've always focused on the adventure of life, the surreal moments when a shape in the corner of your eye becomes something fantastic in your mind. Kevin Clark once said that in writing poetry, you have to lie to get at the truth. I couldn't agree more."