Poetry
After A Self-Portrait by Francis Picabia
A french fry sticks its tongue out at you
Blue, swollen, unfathomable
As hot air stirs local economy
The carbuncle mayor invites your double to join his delicious nightmare
Blue, swollen, unfathomable
Stuck on scraps of an umbrella
The carbuncle mayor invites your double to join his delicious nightmare
This is not the landscape painting I ordered from The Optimist Factory
Stuck on scraps of an umbrella
A phantasmagorical ode to human suffering
This is not the landscape painting I ordered from The Optimist Factory
A phalanx of lackeys entering backwards
A phantasmagorical ode to human suffering
Written by a mechanical pencil known as “The crimson moon kimono”
A phalanx of lackeys entering backwards
I started drawing children clapped in moldy fireplaces
Written by a mechanical pencil known as “The crimson moon kimono”
I drive a car as big as a wolf’s ravenous eyes
I started drawing children clapped in moldy fireplaces
Excellent mental symptoms occur at the boundaries
I drive a car as big as a wolf’s ravenous eyes
A french fry sticks its tongue out at you.
Excellent mental symptoms occur at the boundaries
As hot air stirs local economy
RECOMMENDED ARTICLES
Sulaiman Addonia's Silence Is My Mother Tongue
By John DominiSEPT 2020 | Books
Just shy of puberty, Saba suffers all sorts of disorientation, even at first sight of her family hut: “Aren’t refugee camps built with tents?” Later, between the huts, she gets lost in “alleyways… a labyrinth.” Complicating matters, by local standards Saba’s a mongrel, “Eritrean-Ethiopian… half from an occupied country and the other half from the occupying.”
four
By Steve LevineDEC 21-JAN 22 | Poetry
Steve Levine is a poet and a navigator of the space-time continuum, where he has roamed since 1953. His writing is primarily collected in A Blue Tongue, Three Numbers, and Pure Notations (The Toothpaste Press) and The Cycles of Heaven and To and For (Coffee House Press), as well as various magazines. Recently, Levine has been thinking about the innate human desire to impose order on chaos, something he has only ever been able to achieve in a poem.
eight
By Eric BausAPRIL 2022 | Poetry
Eric Baus is the author of How I Became a Hum (Octopus Books, 2019), The Tranquilized Tongue (City Lights, 2014) and other books. He teaches at Regis University and lives in Denver, Colorado.
Kate McQuillen: Wave Amnesia
By Robert R. ShaneJUNE 2021 | ArtSeen
The feeling of having a word on the tip of your tongue—a state between knowing and not-knowing, remembering and forgetting—takes visual form in the paintings that make up Kate McQuillen’s exhibition Wave Amnesia.
