No One Gains Weight in the Shoulders reviewed on Nightwaves

Nightwaves reviewed No One Gains Weight in the Shoulders:

“Leah Angstman should be given a medal for all her hard work. As the head honcho at Propaganda Press, she has worked tirelessly championing the works of countless very talented writers. As a poet herself, her work is captivating and honest. As I read poems like “a bronchitis story,” wherein Leah tells her audience about her dealing with that affliction at a very early age, I was vividly taken back to that time myself. Her imagining that she had super powers was something that I (and I'm sure many people) could relate with right away. Her take on “airports” is also fascinating and funny: 

“airports”

are the ultimate local television show
the cartoon people not realizing
they are on the screen [ ... ]

Indeed, like many great poets, Angstman finds inspiration in everyday people and places, from “the bored wife,” to a girl named “lizz,” to a wonderful peek at a bar in Boston called “bukowski tavern cambridge massachusetts spring of two-thousand-eight.” I thoroughly enjoyed her portraits of such places and people. Her style is real, vivid, and beautifully true.”

Some Misplaced Joan of Arc reviewed on BASP&PS

Doug Holder reviewed Some Misplaced Joan of Arc for the Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene blog:

“Leah Angstman, founder of the local Propaganda Press works as a bartender at an aptly named place for a writer to work in: “Bukowski Tavern,” a bar in Inman Square, Cambridge. She puts out a neat little magazine, Poiesis, and a slew of mini-chapbooks of poetry. Her latest project is a beautiful-looking small chap titled: Some Misplaced Joan of Arc, written by Angstman herself. Now Angstman always has an original take on things, and here is a signature poem that you might want to keep “abreast” of: 

“seventy something percent of women have mismatched breasts” 

perhaps some genes or
parts switched around at birth
and yet
there are no bras mismatched 

dressed in discomfort
with the dilemma of the d
or the c 

flapping like a jaw
inside d
too roomy on the left
chaffing against padding 

or squished into the c
with right nipple perched
across fabric's edge
bunched to the inside
appearing a cyclops breast
fighting for air
squirming to wink 

If I were you I would get this hot little pocket book of poetry and squeeze into your c or d cup.”