Sarah Busse photo
photo by Reed Busse

CONTACT

sarah.busse@tds.net

(608) 831-0094

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Sarah Busse
Madison, Wisconsin

BIO

Sarah Busse received her MFA in Creative Writing and Literature from Bennington College, Vermont, in June 2003. Her poetry has appeared in on-line and print journals, including Poet Lore, Ugly Accent, Great River Review, and Perihelion, among others, and was recently featured on the Verse Daily website. In 2008, she was among the runners-up in the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters poetry contest. The children’s book she co-authored with her mother, Banjo Granny, came out from Houghton Mifflin in 2006 and is now in its third printing. She lives with her husband and two children in Madison, Wisconsin.

PUBLICATIONS

Banjo Granny, children's picture book co-authored with Jacqueline Briggs Martin, Houghton Mifflin, 2006 - $16.00

OTHER POEMS
www.uglyaccent.com/Poetry/SBusse.html
www.versedaily.org/2008/nearchristmas.shtml

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BOOKINGS

2008

February
Participant in the Festival of Poets reading February 24th at 2:00 PM at Avol's Bookstore in Madison

March
Featured reader with Stephen Powers March 4th at 7:00 PM at the Windhover Center for the Arts in Fond du Lac (open mic follows)

April
Participant in the Wisconsin People and Ideas contest winners reading April 17th at 7:00 PM at Avol's Bookstore in Madison

May
Featured reader May 5th at 7:00 PM at Montello Public Library in Montello (open mic follows)

July
Featured reader July 5th at 1:00 PM at "Folk on State," State Street in Madison

    POEM

ROSEMARY

1

A more careful music begins.
Deep green and delicate
blue question of violins,
a surge, a swipe of oil
at the base of the thumb.

2

Rub this sprig behind my ear
after dinner is done, the bowls clean,
and at the neck’s hollow, and lower, here—
and I will bring
this pungency, this urgency to bed.

3

Now it grows to a shrub, grows in-
to a hedge, goes wild, standing
waves of a storm frozen
in a front yard heave like waves
of a nineteenth-century Japanese sea:

4

tossed up never to fall, the spray
a glitter only in the mind’s eye.

Originally published in Ash Canyon Review

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