Alternate middle #43 G. and H. let the Witch’s house burn, run out of the house, grabbing a few hot gumdrops on the way out, and keep running until they get back to their Father’s house, which they immediately set on fire. One taste of vengeance may lead to another. The Monster’s tools may […]
selected for the 2018 SLS poetry award there must be eggs in it. if it fits the same heron that stalks the pond, the neighbors called him Charlie, only now he’s high in a eucalyptus and crooks wing to get branches, fly back beak full. so it’s Charlie the other kind. ◊ Charlie has […]
The sum of art is a mirror a lens of creation the artist biography the situated paint is a story [pause] color plus art plus context and were the poet the artist [what is color to the poet] the fallen leaves beneath the snow I assume [I assume] and it were music for the wind […]
Those aren’t blemishes they’re characteristics of Victorian glaze she appears open & closed the eyes squint into the mottled light lobsters are hilling in a crystal bowl the table and the walls are blue it keeps getting better there are no doors or windows to this room full of eagerness & restraint he will come […]
go home winter you’re drunk this room I am in is a room I’m not sad I’m on fire great blue eating I’m looking for a word upheaval maybe that’s it when light echoes through the necklace and I see lace in a window calling me to trash my room smoke it out so stars […]
It is said we live in an age of precarity. Every age has its own forms of precarity. When people think of precarity, they think of conflict zones or wealth inequality or certain bodies having official vengeance exacted upon them. When people thought of precarity, they thought of nuclear holocaust, periods of scarcity, the possibility […]
For most of the aughts, Ellen was the smartest person I knew. She dressed impeccably for parties, she always knew the right moment to use the word ‘oeuvre.’ People were delighted to be in her presence, as if she glowed incandescently. Later she came down with an eating disorder and wasn’t quite as fetching as in earlier years. After all this, she asked me what she was like then, since a woman is rarely aware of her powers. I told her. She exclaimed, “But I was a failure!”
Last night’s dream opened with me and Andrew lying in an inflatable boat on some body of water somewhere in summer. A plane was slowly falling out of the sky and heading right towards us. I remember thinking in the dream (when thinking feels like you’re pulling the length of a telescope further out) that I’d seen this before: a plane falling, floating almost, towards these two men in this boat.
The insurance will not cover birth-control. It doesn’t matter, anyway, when I will not conceive. When I maintain my status quo. When the insurance company believes I should be pregnant. When men in their uniforms believe I should be pregnant.
To begin an essay called “Gluten” with anything other than an explication of the metaphorical substance and how it pertains to my subject…would be obscure, or coy. Gluten is a protein that binds fibers together. It’s a “tough, viscid, nitrogenous substance remaining when the flour of wheat or other grain is washed to remove the starch.” It’s strong and pervasive and sticky.