Welcome to On Beauty, a series of interviews with poets about their relationships to beauty. For an introduction to the project, click here. This month Oana Avasilichioaei responds in essay form…
Tag: vol. 5
THE THERAPIST In just five minutes she gave us our narratives: you were the smoother-over, the peacemaker, while I was the perfectionist, and together we had passed these traits to…
THROWAWAYS A girl washed up, the body of a girl, and we set sail until oily in the sun, salt-whipped hair heavy as ropes. Dropping anchor, we dove…
abstract/concrete 4 by derek beaulieu Berlin poet Cia Rinne revels in the clinamen and the paragram, the playful moment brought about by the minimal change in typographical difference. For a…
The World Is Moving Around Me: A Memoir of the Haiti Earthquake, Dany Laferrière. Trans. David Homel. Arsenal Pulp Press, 2013. by Julija Šukys Writer Dany Laferrière found himself…
Cutting Room, Sarah Pinder. Coach House Books, 2012. by Diana Jones-Ellis Deeply immersed in an articulation of the materiality of objects, Sarah Pinder’s evocative and haunting collection, Cutting Room, often…
Doris: the muscular work Time’s a free illusion of right’s triumph, of reward, which cordons, Of justice, meaning boundaries; bound. Where law’s unruly or limitless Respect may be owed perhaps,…
Should You Experience an Erection Lasting More than Four Hours . . . and Further Guidance by Donald Anderson HERE’S WHAT YOU’VE HEARD: Don’t eat at a place called “Mom’s,” don’t…
to mother as an aid to memory You become a different person than you thought, some intimate animal falling over itself. These bones build a holy sepulcher for blessed days.…
by John C. Goodman “I declare,” she sobbed, “I never was so cut up since your mama and my papa not Doyce and Clennam for this once but give the…
Methuselah I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be. —Joan Didion “Of course I’m going to climb it,” the woman said, looking at…
POETRY READING: FRIED CHICKEN AND WAFFLES The writers get zipped to the gigs on golf carts like white blood cells to a wound. But who among us asks the hairlipped…