2014 // March

March 2014

Song for Future Books, by Joanna Fuhrman (3/1/2014) The book is made of glass and I look through it and see more books. Many glass books. Is someone speaking?  A muffled voice is telling me to make soup which I think means I am loved. What other kind of cup fills itself? Can there be a cup of cup? A cup of itself? […]

Radar Data #12, by Lytton Smith (3/2/2014) It was in the absence of light as when near new moon and no moonlight; as when a part of a picture is in shadow (as opposed to a light); as when in the condition of being hidden from view, obscure, or unknown—in concealment, or else without knowledge as regards to some particular; and of […]

Vocabulary, by Jason Schneiderman (3/3/2014) I used to love words, but not looking them up. Now I love both, the knowing, and the looking up, the absurdity of discovering that “boreal” has been meaning “northern” all this time or that “estrus” is a much better word for the times when I would most likely have said, “in heat.” When I […]

from Fairies, by Mei-mei Berssenbrugge (3/4/2014) 2 Fairies begin their day by coming together a moment and sharing joy. They love the feeling, which dew on the leaves draws from grass, lilacs and the response of meadow and flowers to the dawn. Diminutive green sylphs now run in the grass, whose growth seems intimately associated with theirs, a single line of […]

Austerity, by Janet Loxley Lewis (3/5/2014) From “Cold Hills” I have lived so long On the cold hills alone … I loved the rock And the lean pine trees, Hated the life in the turfy meadow, Hated the heavy, sensuous bees. I have lived so long Under the high monotony of starry skies, I am so cased about With the clean […]

One Shies at the Prospect of Raising Yet Another Defense of Cannibalism, by Josh Bell (3/6/2014) “You can’t kiss a movie,” Jean Luc Godard said, and this is mostly true, in that you cannot initiate the kiss. The Movie could initiate the kiss if The Movie wanted, as it is so much taller, leaning in, no way to demur, you would be too polite anyway, and, as the Roman poets have […]

If You Go into the Woods You Will Find It Has a Technology, by Heather Christle (3/7/2014) This tree has a small LED display It is glowing and it can show you words and it can show you pictures and it can melt from one choice to another and you are looking at it and it wants you to share the message but it can’t see that you are the only one […]

#4, by Jane Miller (3/8/2014) Do you know how long it has been since a moral choice presented itself and the wrong choice was made not two minutes why is it not quiet between lightning and thunder as if someone were asking do you have other articulable feelings if so express them now tragedy ensues with a laser blast from […]

After the Movie, by Marie Howe (3/9/2014) My friend Michael and I are walking home arguing about the movie. He says that he believes a person can love someone and still be able to murder that person. I say, No, that’s not love. That’s attachment. Michael says, No, that’s love. You can love someone, then come to a day when you’re forced […]

Corpse Flower, Luna Moth, by Daniel Tobin (3/10/2014) The deep wine of it risen tall above the buried corm, its ornamental spathe furrowed thought- fully, to human warmth. O un-branched inflouresence, amorpho- phalos, misshapen swelling, with its allure of rotting flesh for the scarabs to follow, hollow, to the sun-lit trove, as though all dark were light unbidden by our parsing eye, and […]

Costumes Exchanging Glances, by Mary Jo Bang (3/11/2014) The rhinestone lights blink off and on. Pretend stars. I’m sick of explanations. A life is like Russell said of electricity, not a thing but the way things behave. A science of motion toward some flat surface, some heat, some cold. Some light can leave some after-image but it doesn’t last. Isn’t that what they […]

En Route, by Darcie Dennigan (3/12/2014) The infant asleep in the trough is a Buddhist. This time of year is very, very old. Over eggs, that is all we can conclude, us who are asleep, who are dreaming this long dream. What if this infant could be awoken? There is someone in heaven who for centuries an infinite number of centuries, […]

The Feeling of the World As a Bounded Whale Is the Mystical [The child affixes], by Darcie Dennigan(3/13/2014) The child affixes one of her little pictures to my refrigerator. She asks, Can you detect the radiation? There is a house, one tree, and grass in dark slashes. A sun shining. Beneath, in her child letters, she has written Chernobyl. At kindergarten they must be having nuclear energy week. One could look at the […]

Sentimental Atom Smasher, by Darcie Dennigan (3/14/2014) So this guy walks into a bar and asks for a beer. Sorry, the bartender says, I only sell atom smashers And the guy says well isn’t that America for you— every happy-hour Nelson’s a homemade physicist and no thank you, just an ice cold one, but it’s too late—suddenly, he’s on his butt in […]

Mass Effect, by Katy Lederer (3/15/2014) Pushed together, pulled apart, we were purported pluripotent. We developed as an organ, a benign and beating heart. We sought physicians for histology. Discovered spinal symmetry. Within the sacred bowl of life, our innards spilled in red array. I wondered what you’d have to say if in your mouth you grew a tongue. I wondered […]

In Betweenness, by Pierre Joris (3/16/2014) is it a good thing to find two empty pages between the day before yesterday & yesterday when trying to make room for the blue opera afternoon of today a sunday like any sunday in may? there is no one could tell or judge though my own obsession with the in between should dictate the […]

A Path Between Houses, by Greg Rappleye (3/17/2014) Where is the dwelling place of light? And where is the house of darkness? Go about; walk the limits of the land. Do you know a path between them? Job 38:19-20 The enigma of August. Season of dust and teenage arson. The nightly whine of pickup trucks bouncing through the sumac beneath the Co-Operative power […]

Muffin of Sunsets, by Elaine Equi (3/18/2014) The sky is melting. Me too. Who hasn’t seen it this way?   Pink between the castlework of buildings.   Pensive syrup drizzled over clouds.   It is almost catastrophic how heavenly.   A million poets, at least, have stood in this very spot, groceries in hand, wondering:   “Can I witness the Rapture and […]

Worst Things First, by Mark Bibbins (3/19/2014) A bag of thank-you notes fell on me and that was enough art for one day. Culturally speaking, it was more like a year in the floral trenches, kicked off with a single boneless kiss. Poor sad demon in his poor dead tree— or is it he who pities me, cockshy quasihero with a latex […]

Strange Meeting, by Wilfred Owen (3/20/2014) It seemed that out of the battle I escaped Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped Through granites which Titanic wars had groined. Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned, Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred. Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared With piteous recognition in fixed eyes, […]

The Aeneid, Book VI, [First, the sky and the earth], by Virgil (3/21/2014)  “First, the sky and the earth and the flowing fields of the sea, the shining orb of the moon and the Titan sun, the stars: an inner spirit feeds them, coursing through all their limbs, mind stirs the mass and their fusion brings the world to birth. From their union springs the human race and […]

Red String, by Minnie Bruce Pratt (3/22/2014)  At first she thought the lump in the road was clay thrown up by a trucker’s wheel. Then Beatrice saw the mess of feathers. Six or seven geese stood in the right-of-way, staring at the blood, their black heads rigid above white throats. Unmoved by passing wind or familiar violence, they fixed their gaze on […]

Waiting for Rain, by Ellen Bass (3/23/2014) Finally, morning. This loneliness feels more ordinary in the light, more like my face in the mirror. My daughter in the ER again. Something she ate? Some freshener   someone spritzed in the air? They’re trying to kill me, she says, as though it’s a joke. Lucretius got me through the night. He told me […]

A Boat, Beneath a Sunny Sky, by Lewis Carroll (3/24/2014) A boat, beneath a sunny sky Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July— Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear— Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies […]

A Green Crab’s Shell, by Mark Doty (3/25/2014) Not, exactly, green: closer to bronze preserved in kind brine, something retrieved from a Greco-Roman wreck, patinated and oddly muscular. We cannot know what his fantastic legs were like– though evidence suggests eight complexly folded scuttling works of armament, crowned by the foreclaws’ gesture of menace and power. A gull’s gobbled the center, leaving this […]

For Once, Then, Something, by Robert Frost (3/26/2014) Others taunt me with having knelt at well-curbs Always wrong to the light, so never seeing Deeper down in the well than where the water Gives me back in a shining surface picture Me myself in the summer heaven godlike Looking out of a wreath of fern and cloud puffs. Once, when trying with chin […]

Diary [Surface], by Rachel Zucker (3/27/2014) Spring is not so very promising as it is the thing that looking back was fire, promising: ignition, aspiration; it was not under my thumb. Now when I pretend a future it is the moment he holds the thing I say new-born, delicate, sure to begin moving but I am burned out of it like […]

Poem, by Rachel Zucker (3/28/2014) The other day Matt Rohrer said, the next time you feel yourself going dark in a poem, just don’t, and see what happens. That was when Matt, Deborah Landau, Catherine Barnett, and I were chatting, on our way to somewhere and something else. In her office, a few minutes earlier, Deborah had asked, are you […]

My Daughter Among the Names, by Farid Matuk (3/29/2014) Difficult once I’ve said things to know them this morning the lights above the tollway all off at exactly 7:36 all “we took our yellow from the pewter sky.” But we have so many things!   Stories about our diction, the leather couch some trees and our ages. What about all the rooms the sky makes— […]

Hey Allen Ginsberg Where Have You Gone and What Would You Think of My Drugs?, by Rachel Zucker(3/30/2014) A mouse went to see his mother.  When his car broke down he bought a bike. When the bike wore out he bought skates.  When the skates wore down he ran. He ran until his sneakers wore through.  Then he walked.  He walked and walked, almost walked his feet through so he bought new ones. […]

Her Name was Name, by Matt Hart (3/31/2014) I had a girl, I named her soap. I had a soap, I named her cat. One day I played the accordion on paper, and it sounded like a birth certificate drifting into the sun, a disintegration station in a vast bewildered wilderness— which sounds like a slide whistle at first but later like the […]

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