Lemon Hound 3.0

Arts, Letters, Archives, Arguments

Author Archive
Erin Lyndal Martin: Notes Toward an Essay on the Construction of the Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família

Erin Lyndal Martin: Notes Toward an Essay on the Construction of the Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família

"The Sagrada Familia is the most hideous building in the world."--George Orwell 2026. Projected date of completion. When is a church complete? This is not a literal question referring to resteeplings and maintenance that must be done over the years; this is a question of what a church is. But let us look at the...
Jonathan Ball: Misreading Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"

Jonathan Ball: Misreading Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”

Whenever I teach "The Raven," a number of students assume a particular misreading: that the narrator has murdered Lenore, and that the raven of the poem symbolizes his guilty conscience. I'm always shocked by how naturally this misreading comes. Students seem to realize it's not sustainable as a "reasonable" interpretation, but prefer it to more...
Rachael Katz: Two Poems

Rachael Katz: Two Poems

The Mall is Closing I will always get the wrong sweet. It’s not that—it’s not that, but impulse is a high-fructose corn syrup something something razorblades. How about let’s kill nothing not even our own indecision because it is a warm bird body under its feathers. Bless you in the back aisle I can’t see...
Billeh Nickerson: Two Poems

Billeh Nickerson: Two Poems

THE GHOST OF BLOWJOBS PAST Suppose you're invited to a Christmas party, and when you arrive at the condo lobby something feels familiar, which is strange since it's not your kind of building and you don't recall ever coming there before. Suppose on the flight up it hits you that the building occupies the space...
Jennica Harper: Three Poems

Jennica Harper: Three Poems

MY FATHER, AS JACK NICHOLSON A man who knows a pretty girl when he sees one, and he’s always seeing one. He reads waitresses’ tags, calls them their names. All down-home Daddy drawl. When he was young, this probably worked with some. Now they humour him. For some reason I want them to be spellbound,...
Rodney Koeneke: sharon mesmer

Rodney Koeneke: sharon mesmer

sharon mesmer Sharon get up be cinema again for long pearly stretches the sky isn’t anything but stars inside the theaters projectors push light through emulsions soon we’ll be peasants films digitally perfect sugars beat by threshers from the cane with alarming new efficiency mixed in low-calorie sodas and presented to you at your table...

George Stanley: Two Poems

MEMORIES OF DESIRE I am unable to focus, I don’t want to focus on desires I can no longer feel. Desires for power over a younger, slender guy, a boy, a son.  A surge of anticipation of the first touch, but first the words, now mild, now menacing, touching and talking, touching after first talking,...
Mark Bibbins: Swallowed

Mark Bibbins: Swallowed

Swallowed When I see an escalator I have to kiss everyone on it, don’t you? If you like these pastries—our lawyer calls them perfidy rolls— there are more on his helicopter. He’s Serbian or something, whole family wiped out by his other family. But he’s fine now. Drop a kiss on the cultural floor, three-second...
Vanessa Place: As James Franco knows

Vanessa Place: As James Franco knows

AS JAMES FRANCO KNOWS As James Franco knows, Poetry makes me feel like I can create whatever I want, because all you really have to do is express what you feel emotionally and physically and how this affects the world around you As James Franco knows, Poetry makes me feel like I am singing a...
Matthew Zapruder: Two Poems

Matthew Zapruder: Two Poems

SUN BEAR yesterday at the Oakland zoo I was walking alone for a moment past the enclosure holding the sun bear also known as beruang madu it looked at me without interest it has powerful jaws and truly loves honey it sleeps in a high hammock its claws look made out of wood and if...
Karen Connelly: The Children

Karen Connelly: The Children

THE CHILDREN I feel them falling out of me, the children, like the passage of stars in the sky, the small fire denied by the fierce rising of the sun, the burning of my own life. They turn their small hands up to me sadly, they don't know how to cry because they haven’t been...

David McGimpsey: One Poem

I WAS ALWAYS TOLD A POET SHOULD ONLY PUBLISH ONCE A YEAR, ON THE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY AND ON THE SUBJECT OF THE QUEEN'S BIRTHDAY A government program seeks to leave poems in hospital waiting rooms so patients might read them and begin to understand there are worse things than diabetes. When Seamus Heaney passed away,...