Dear Reader,
Welcome to Issue 86 of the Collagist! This issue, with its dizzying feats of language and its games turned serious, its recognition of the disturbing boundlessness of memory and the fathomless quality of connection, may induce a feeling of things spinning out of control—you may need to hold on to something solid—but there are marvels here, and it is worth holding on.
And speaking of marvels, this issue marks the first with Marielle Prince as poetry editor. My thoughts on this occasion have turned to my own first issue on staff at The Collagist, six years ago this very month: When Matt Bell offered me the position of reviews editor, I remember he wrote something like "I can't wait to see what you do with the reviews section." The implication, at least to me, was that I should do something with the section, and that that something should be different in some way, and this thought was cheering to me, even inspiring. There was trust in those words, I mean, and an openness, a willingness to be delighted in the results. My hope has always been to inspire the same in you, our readers.
As for what Marielle will do in her new position, fortunately, we don't need to wait any longer. I'm sure you'll be just as delighted with her selections as I've been. Marielle writes:
Marielle here, honored to be addressing you for the first time as poetry editor and welcoming you to Issue 86 of The Collagist! I know that you have come to expect a consistent supply of fresh, exciting, diverse, and moving poems during Matthew's incredible seven-year tenure. I endeavor to keep the good work coming your way, and thanks to the steady stream of fine poetry The Collagist receives from many of you, that challenge is made easier. This is a time-tested and well-tended literary space that I enter, and I am deeply grateful to Gabe for entrusting me with the poetry side of it. I look forward to sharing new voices with you!
We are so thankful to all of our contributors, and thankful also to you, our readers. We hope you enjoy the issue!
Sincerely,
Gabriel Blackwell
