Certain firsts are important for writers. 

 

Years back, Bodega became the first national journal to accept my poetry for publication, providing that much-sought stamp on the poet’s passport that welcomes her, wander-lusty, in the strange lands of validated authorship. Here, fifty issues of Bodega (!) later, I get to be a first for them, briefly borrowing the cockpit controls to become Bodega’s first Guest Editor. (For this honor, and also because she is brilliant and generous at what she does, I heap gratitude upon Bodega’s Editor-in-Chief, Cat Richardson.)

 

To appreciate Bodega is to recognize that its concept (as important as it is effective) is a relative first among literary outlets. Neither a daily distributor nor an annual tome, Bodega instead operates a small one-stop-shop of writing, hand-selected for best flavor and re-stocked monthly for freshness. Its editors marry the rapidness of presentation with thoughtfulness of curation, keeping pace with the speed at which words move in these electrified times but pausing to wire its content together to create a neon glow. And they do this with a taste for ripe language and with ears tuned in to the quiet cracking-open sound made by the work of emerging writers. 

 

In assembling this all-poetry special edition, I looked for work that provides you with all of the conveniences of a literary corner store (per Bodega’s tagline), and the poets certainly delivered the goods: If you're picking up road trip supplies, there's ancient maps and old star maps. In bait n' tackle, there's lucky talis-crabs for your boat, and buckets for forlornly catching fish. The apparel aisle has moon boots, wayward breeches, and (heart)broken Timex watches. And no bodega is complete without comestibles...in our case, whale meat, curiously-tempting gravel-granola and birds' nests, and table-sized pancakes covered in dream apples.  

 

(Also, as long as we’re here celebrating Bodega’s growing legacy, I decided to likewise recognize its/my hometown: Bodega first rolled out its awning in New York City, and the poets appearing in Bodega 80 are all New York-area folk, by birth or present address…though some grew up as far away as the Caribbean and Appalachia, and others have their roots in Somalia and Afghanistan.) 

 

Whether you’ve been with Bodega for all 5-plus years, or this is a first for you as a reader (another first! glad to have you!), I hope that you adore this issue as much as I do. And if I were handing you a white plastic grocery bag for this collection of stanza-sundries, it would proclaim (as is traditional, with that can’t-miss red font and those enjambments like a series of high-fives):

 

Thank You 

Thank You 

Thank You 

Thank You 

Thank You 

Thank You 

Have a Nice Day!