The sun always shines on TV, sang Morten in the nineteen-eighties when I was poring over books in a tiny room that overlooked Glasgow’s Necropolis cemetery, constantly fending off the blows of smog-and-fog-related melancholies. When my eyes sought a little respite from perusing Lawrence’s Aristocracy of the Sun, on monumental headstones they would alight, nestling to tributes on epitaphs, speculating on how Young, Blair and … Continue reading Suns by Susie Gharib
I sit in the corner. There is light somewhere, a lamp. I sit in my chair. The whiskey bottle empty. The black dog in the doorway. And god is man in ruins. On my desk, a notebook half filled with bad poems. I sit in my chair, I sit in the corner. Her picture on my desk smiles. Her letter sings on the wall. I … Continue reading In Exile, In Darkness by Lou Graves
i deal in absolutes, only absolutes as i consider myself some disciple of man, of some sun-shiny woman in a panama hat, of some dusty illini museum where i bend my neck and stare at the models of first humans and their hanging chests — i deal in certainties, things contained in basement bargain book bins, rules to be broken, the quiet strength of strong … Continue reading absolutist by Cameron Gorman
When it comes to the genre often relegated to “Holocaust writers,” Nelly Sachs frequently seems to be overlooked. Born in Schöneberg at the end of the nineteenth century, Sachs’ poetry very clearly comes from a place of seeing the contrast between prosperity and decay, tranquility and terror. Her privilege of being a part of a wealthy family allowed her the later associated with Emily Dickinson … Continue reading “When the great terror came/I fell dumb”: Nelly Sachs & the Written Word as the Sole Means for Vaguely Getting Across One’s Internal Turmoil
I am losing my hair Oh yes I can feel the breeze My fingers slide On exposed scalp Hair’s still there But sparse like kelp It used to define me My follicular identity Curly! Tangles! Jewfro! No need to eat my crusts For cascading blond ringlets But thick goes fast The plughole clogs What am I anymore? A slapping stone A crown of bone Wispy … Continue reading MPB by Martin Parsons
By the time to go is gone Sun between windows numbers deciding their shapes Two crows in sync & constant distance or my eyes arent talking to each other As the song on the clock radio keeps going after the alarms turned off Picturing the over- and under-tones of this exhale as my ears breathe, as my eyes off-gas Do dreams evaporate or just crumble … Continue reading Fog Can’t Deter Saturday Waking by Dan Raphael
