Publication Date:  August 1, 2018
Paperback, 80 pages
ISBN:  978-1-937968-45-8
Booksellers:  Available from
Small Press Distribution
Sara Cahill Marron is a Virginia-born poet
and student of the law.  Her poetry has been
featured in various online and print poetry journals
such as
Dark Matter, Chagrin River Review,
Gravel, The Write Launch, Foliate Oak, The
Hamilton Stone Review
, Joey and the Black Boots,
and others. She holds a master’s degree in English
from St. John’s University and is working towards
a juris doctorate at George Washington University
Law School. In addition to writing and crafting
words, Sara is a marathoner and a chess player,
devoting less time to the practice than Duchamp
did, but aspiring to the Mysticism of Blake in all
endeavors. She is a friend of Bill W.
In this dazzling, dizzying first collection, poet Sara Cahill Marron draws inspiration
from two seemingly very disparate sources. The first, Marcel Duchamp’s
painting by
that name (which celebrated its centenary in the year of this book's publication),
appears on
the book’s cover. Created as a site-specific commission, which explains its
odd dimensions (thus one of the “reasons”), Duchamp incorporated references to

uch of his prior work, while pointing the way (literally) to his move beyond painting
(one interpretation of the title is a contraction for “you bore me”).  It is, then, a work
simultaneously about looking back
and looking forward, working within limitations,
shattering them.

Her second inspiration is the rosary, the best-known western form of meditation and
devotion.  Through the strict, simple, repetitive structure of the rosary, with its
circular “decades” of beads, the devotee is led to the contemplation of “mysteries”
variously joyful, sorrowful, and glorious. And just so does Marron lead her readers
spiraling through the contemplation of “big issues” in her three sections of ten parts
each, from lyrical art through the lascivious mysteries of love and sex, to letters of
loss and death and what remains.  Heady stuff for a first-timer, but Marron more than

A third inspiration also deserves credit, as Marron thanks “all the drunks in and out
of Alcoholics Anonymous who have lent me their stories and their recovery to whittle
and meld with my own in the kiln of the Tu’m.”  By taking on these many personae,
she brings universality to her depiction of human experience, not always at it prettiest.

The result is a work of bracing originality, but in ways that Duchamp might have
recognized.  Marron’s use of repurposed email recalls his “readymades”, and both
invite us to see a world we think we recognize, transformed, sometimes disturbingly
so. She too strains against the limits of convention, adopting a frame but ripping
through it.  

She has her reasons.  Let her show you.

Praise for Sara Cahill Marron & Reasons for the Long Tu’m

“Sara Marron writes a startling poetry for our disjointed times, one that moves beyond
the clichéd and confining limits of poetry, but also optimizing poetry’s virtues on
authentic voice, sound, and wisdom. She does not reduce the applicability of her work
through topics tied to what we already know. Instead, she addresses our moment’s
two sides of the same coin’s grave apocalyptic desperation and possibility. In her
identity position we can see ourselves.”

—Stephen Paul Miller, Ph.D., St. John’s University, New York

“It’s up to you to pick up these fingered intertextual voices, these rosaries of negative
capability, within and flying out of a book so as to dwell in mysteries of poems unlike
any other. Sara Marron plays the changes of a kind of sleep and wake talk, an  
efflorescence from her mind to yours
As specific as / The Day Lady Died, /always
and spinning anew.”

—Lee Ann Brown, author of In the Laurels, Caught

“To read Sara Marron is to step into a world where there is ‘No shyness here. /
Noshame here.’ This is an American lyric of the body and mind—a truly intelligent,
unabashed celebration of words, letters and our relationships to one another.”

—Alison Palmer, author of The Need for Hiding

“Blunt closed sentences start these tumbling poems e.g. ‘The Fax Machine is Dead.’
Period, but then they tumble jazz-like, Mina-Loy like, music-like-referential-like.
‘Ayn Rand to pixels like’. Marron’s approach to the political shines in formal
pirouettes, symbolic and honest, throughout these dancing strophes. An admiring
and naïve whiteness bravely exposed, left sitting self-referential on a table of
judgment (as whiteness ought to be judged); a queer sex bruise or many; ‘The East
Village during the Ebola outbreak’. These poems sing and dance and hit the floor and
strike the chord of beauty and even love, at the intervals in which love appears in this
                                       —Katy Bohinc, author of Dear Alain, Trinity Star Trinity,
& Scorpio
Reasons for the
Long Tu'm

Poetry By
Sara Cahill Marron