Sara Cahill Marron

Sara Cahill Marron is a Virginia born, Queens poet. She holds a master’s degree in English from St. John’s University and is working towards a J.D. 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. 

Praise for her first book, Reasons for the Long Tu'm:

“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
remembering and spinning anew.”

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

“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

“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
world.”
                                       —Katy Bohinc, author of Dear Alain, Trinity Star Trinity,
                                           & Scorpio