26.1: WHITE HOMES
Elizabeth Willis: Ferns, Mosses, Flags
We all live under the rule of Pepsi, by the sanctified waters of an in-ground pond. Moss if it gathers is a sign of shifting weathers, the springing scent of consensual facts. A needle's knowing drops into focus while you …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffElizabeth Willis: Ancient Subterranean Fires
When I crossed the road, I burned with the heat of its traffic. Time as movement, a government of rushes. All those itching satellites, blind among the dreaming guns. A bee in its lace is the author of something. Easy …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffElizabeth Willis: The Similitude of This Great Flower
These vines are trim, I take them down. I had my mother's features in my heart, the darkest gem, tripping in the tar, an affinity for Iceland. The world is clanking: noun, noun, noun. Sand in the shoe doesn't make …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffG. C. Waldrep: STIGMATIC AFFECTION
Dreams of a center column, cracked leather and nicotine stain. Fast forward: another town, another city really, color television burned to the afternoon game. Tight foyer, space torn from what bank stands derelict. It's Thursday. I'm ticking off on fingers …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffG. C. Waldrep: YTTERBIUM, THE HAUNTED ELEMENT
Deep in the photo-ecliptic of every broken, discarded toy there resides an almost Nietzschean will to overthrow the tyranny of percussive dreaming. Dispersed in sewage grates and dumpsters the remnants of our childhoods crawl slowly back towards one another, jagged …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffG. C. Waldrep: PORK TOY PLOY
Why is the peg foundry running. Why are the trees imbibing mascara so that their beautiful limbs trail like rotting kelp in the heavy rain. Why is the king supplying condiments to the tables of the least prominent industrialists. On …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffRichard Siken: War of the Foxes (iv)
Let me tell you a story about war: They went to the museum and wandered the rooms. He saw a painting and stood in front of it for too long. It was a few minutes before she realized he had …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffRichard Siken: War of the Foxes (iii)
Let me tell you a story about war: The fisherman's son serves drinks to sailors. He stands behind the bar. He listens closely for news of his brother. The sailors are thirsty. They drink rum. A new ship docks, the …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffRichard Siken: War of the Foxes (ii)
Let me tell you a story about war: A boy spills a glass of milk and his father picks him up by the back of the shirt and throws him against the wall. You killed my wife and you can't …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffMary Ann Samyn: Who Are the New Saints and What Are Their Miracles
In the middle of the extremely on-time experience, I kept feeling late. Did someone say “paradox”? Did someone mean “wallowing”? Did anyone hear me chirp in the museum? One guard looked over; one looked sad. Situation in Yellow: my cheek …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffMary Ann Samyn: Everything sounds almost right in poems.
Or do I mean poetry? If I had a schedule, I'd expect the train to whistle on cue, which is does though I don't. Took me what felt like all afternoon to tie transparent thread around the neck of a …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffMary Ann Samyn: On the Day that You Were Born the Angels Got Together
What is it about Karen Carpenter and prose poems? The moment I remembered her-or rather, the moment I remembered myself singing her songs-I knew I was inside a prose poem. Karen was famously anorexic, but I'd need space to spread …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffSimone Muench: the river girl (starring amy l)
Sounds of her pregnancy in the other room. Odor of damp wigs and the body's brachial splintering. Her eyes full of thread, dark as seaweed. In this light, she is aspen wood; her belly, wing-withered. The river settles in her …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffSimone Muench: the aperture (starring mackenzie c)
flash-faced. her spine spun honey. shunt sugar & dagger. pulp & placenta. there in photographs are footprints that lead to a window, a green fog vista, trampled by atmosphere. heavy with ears. gypsum lines the driveway where houses replicate themselves. …
Posted in 26.1: WHITE HOMES Comments OffSimone Muench: a bestiary (starring jackie w)
In a tongue-snap sky, waxwings unspool over the plains. He was a whisper, she was Nebraska. Her hands pepperweed, pebble, pearl, pearl, so tone-smooth. Her mouth speaks, a red canary to a dime cigar. Spittle sheen. There are worse things …
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