Burning Out
You, who never tire of chaos, must comprehend this fire, and the manner in which it deconstructs the crackling logs, books we’ve read, ablaze in orange and splintering blue. Victims of our rage—it appears—they turn to white ash that drifts in our nostrils, presses our tongues in gestures of mute farewell. You, who never cared for poetry or philosophy, part willingly with yours, while I confess some doubt, hesitating over tomes you’ve heard me mention with sighs. We are wholly different, it seems, not in our desire to purge, but in our methods of departing from what remains of...
Read MoreFeatured Works: Week of Aug. 21 (Writing & Inspiration)
How do you write? From where do the ideas spring? How do you bridge the gap between the nascent thought and a finished work? This week’s contributors explore that liminal space. “Flower Girl” by Michael Lee Johnson uses floral imagery to depict how poems bloom, or fade. “My intense intents indent the bubbles” by Twixt ruminates on possible futures, as an exercise in language. “The Office” by Craig Kirchner takes us inside a poet’s work space, and inside the writing process. “From crackling within” by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen provides a snapshot of inspiration. “Soul an...
Read MoreSoul an Invisible Muse
By Chinese Poet Yuan Hongri Translated by Yuanbing Zhang Open the eyes of your soul and you will encounter your many souls In timelessness, as if the sun and moon never set or rise The world is only a book, phantom-like The soul an invisible muse Before the words were born, you were a giant From the kingdom of gold who know not...
Read MoreThe Office
The context of this room with its one window, desk and bookshelves, cheap art, is suddenly stifling. The beautifully parallel horizontal blue lines on white legal, and me staring left to right, knowing that the ink when it meets the resistance of the page will feel introverted, compressed, not at liberty to jump, the two skinny, vertical red lines to get past the margin. Perhaps a better milieu, a hill looking out on an open field of poppies or high corn, sitting under an oak stretching toward the sun, acorns falling, and white clouds, moving steadily across blue velvet. Or the deck of a...
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