What a brutal batch of poems. I loved them. “…scream endlessly into their ears in one long, feral sound. because closure isn’t real, but screaming is.” Click the link below for more stunning lines like these!
August August is second-degree burns / from hands grazing against metal / it is waking from sweat-dripping nightmares / and no more room for intimacy / August is a silent scarring / a tension you can taste / stinking rotten in the air / it is a dozen new bruises / peppering my limbs every […]
via Three poems by Wanda Deglane — BURNING HOUSE PRESS
Click below to see all 3 poems. I’m a fan 🙂
Dementia come to mind cloud come to cloud mind – Marie Ponsot & every now & then, i sit by her feet, on her porch never ever talking. & together, we watch the soughing heavens mutter, str- etching their cotton-silvers in lulls & retorts of nearly went & nearly wait – […]
via Berceuses by Petero Kalulé — BURNING HOUSE PRESS
This is gorgeous work! Click the link below to see and read.
A pair of paradox, or pandora’s box We are forgotten yesterdays of tomorrow, note-booked mementos on thighs time travelled, back from the future, a few tsha-tsha with flashes blackouts and gray-matter gashes, the slurred dance of good memory, crib-notes on collar-bones, bare chest, a loose tie, knots, not around neck formal education white suits, tucked-in […]
via Art + Poetry by nublaccsoul — BURNING HOUSE PRESS
I am shook. Read this poem! Click the link below.
when the blood came the nowhere voice said paint your lips red this was under the table in the blank space between sweetheart and cunt I obeyed as I always do the nowhere voice
via lips by Eve Black — BURNING HOUSE PRESS
This was a particularly haunting and compelling look at depression. An absolutely excellent read! Click the link below to see the full story.
Corinne shrunk herself to bird size, just hatched. Cupped on a leaf, she floated down from a tree branch delicately. Her mind rocked back and forth, rocking the leaf back and forth. This was something she did sometimes when she needed to calm down, more relaxing than counting to ten. In her vision, a centipede […]
via Crevice by Trina Young — BURNING HOUSE PRESS
This is poetry that I don’t completely understand on a logical level, but its sound and flow and rhythm make me feel like I understand something about it viscerally. Click the link to read the 2 poems!
His Body Retold He abraded marble Until he reached skin, inner than Any thigh and equally muscular. He plucked flowers off vines And glued them with marrow To stone slab as it becomes Altar, ulterior Motive for fiction and Its facts: go in too
via 2 Poems by Adam Strauss — BURNING HOUSE PRESS
What an absolutely talented writer. The language is just so beautiful, which just adds to the devastation of the story. Seriously, do not miss out on this one!
Marrakesh, Old Town Everyone seemed to have rotten, black, and missing front teeth. They were friendly and kept smiling and that’s how I saw they mostly had rotten, black and missing front teeth. I couldn’t see a lot of the women’s teeth, only their eyes, and often not even. There were many women dressed from […]
via Nothing Dries Sooner Than A Tear* by Joanna Pickering — BURNING HOUSE PRESS