Each reading of the poems of Britta Kallevang offer a new level of meaning, like an onion, but with more meat, a firm center, and better metaphors. Jumping around with an infectious energy, these poems delight from the first read, but demand to be read over and over, as you explore the nuances of Britta's complex use of language and concept. Neither academic nore avant-garde, these poems speak to that part of us that loves to explore an author's convoluted head.
Britta says: "Hey my name is Britta Kallevang. I really love to write poetry. I think that must be somewhat obvious. I have written a lot of poems in my very short writing career. I plan on writing more and more. To bring you up to date, I am still working a food-service job in Boulder, CO. Like thousands of others I am so bored out of my mind and so broke that I continue searching for a more appropriate job even though all I want to do is crumble to the floor in a little pile of dust and lint. I am far beyond the first tier of despair. There is hope for me! What better reason than that to write poetry?
My poetics I believe are really quite pragmatic. Use what is available. For me, my mindís activity, its: short-circuits, delusions, enlightenments, distractions, and evasiveness are the most accessible material. I think thatís why images appear from nowhere in my lines and the mood switches from frantic to serene in an uncomfortably short time. Things just donít make sense. Neither does life." Drop her a line at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Britta's works here at Unlikely Stories are:
there was the strangest noise
the end of it comes
someone has touched the moon
i am the sun and the cause