Tag Archives: Prose Poetry

Sumerian Script I scarify my soul in the humorless moon of a long night in a clean well lighted place — which is a bullet ridden cafe in Ouagadougou — during a monsoon month of dust and quiet whippoorwills. I … Continue reading →

Shadows — Birthing Death All jacked up, fullOf caffeine in a tailwind,Some climbing to do still — Look at the plumes!Are those dust devils? A few spotty flakes.It’s ash,It’s people. Fire zipped down the dark sky —Flattened the school.Now shards … Continue reading →

Memorable Stuff I Read This Week My father loved to leave mein a movie theaterby myselfbeginning when I was six seated aloneby the aisle He paid the usher a dimeto make sureno one kidnapped or molested me — John Yau … Continue reading →

NO! to sanity. Bombardment. Body snatching. Wrath. Susceptibilities. Just four psychological subalterns, as essential as conceit and distraction. Shall we start a sacrilegious adherence imperilling the hegemonic horse-carts of bodice rippers?  Bring out yer’ dead! Bombs can be dropped like bread … Continue reading →

Nothing to Clown About I’ve been, generally, very happy with the professionalism of this tin-opener as opposed to the nonsense vaso-ergots — nothing to clown about, just go, go, go, go, go! My only condescension is that recently I’ve been … Continue reading →

The Revanchist’s Score (to Settle) She is clearly not amused. Events have gone awry. It is her score (to settle) now—it is placid and peat-boggy notional—certainly “doable.” She will take back her river of grass. The dissonance is too much … Continue reading →

Beyond Grammar: Ellipses Lost Clothes hoist. They can’t stop every time it gets windy or they’ll never finish the job. Don’t disturb Papa. He’ll rage out of the room and throw darts at us. I wish we had never given … Continue reading →

What I’m Reading: There’s no such thing as a better coloniser. — Sara Olsvig / “Greenland Independence Statement” / Equator

Memorable Stuff I Read This Week In life, I was rigid.I had a treatment plan. I had a prism. It bent the light.I mistook it for vision. — Lisa Wells / “13.” A good way to marginalize the most dangerous … Continue reading →