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BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Not For Profit/For Prophecy

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Essay

Womannotated – Bower

Bower

I am the tree arched over your yard 

abrading sky above the shards of what once 

were contents of your Instagram life, guarded-

by-Doberman duplicitous wife, crunched

digital frames, board games amidst piled piss

yellow leaves.  I have outlived any you grieve. 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Bower”

Womannotated – Dead Sea

Dead Sea 

Saunter through snapdragons, the cobblestone path

inside his house, into a bath prepared 

with Dead Sea salts by a sociopath— 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Dead Sea”

Womannotated-Girlarium

Two Girlarium sonnets:

Continue reading “Womannotated-Girlarium”

Womannotated – A Poet And Her Anxiety Walk Into The Woods

August 22nd, 2020

A Poet And Her Anxiety Walk Into The Woods

A poet and her anxiety walk

into the woods — the person, thing and place

misunderstood for none of them can talk

adequately to explain how retraced steps

in dirt unburden pain.  Though two depart

just one returns.  Emaciated pines Continue reading “Womannotated – A Poet And Her Anxiety Walk Into The Woods”

Womannotated – Crow Castle

August 9th, 2020

Crow Castle

Each maiden slumbers in her childhood bed.

Crow collects a lock from each, twines a nest

with garden twigs, hair ribbons azure, red—

sufficient room for one without a guest. Continue reading “Womannotated – Crow Castle”

Womannotated – Delicate

August 2nd, 2020

Delicate 

 

Some porcelain is missing from my cheek,

a hole you study while you think I sleep.  

In light of day it bothers you I’m weak. 

In darkness you find penetrable deep. 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Delicate”

Womannotated – Why Charlie Can’t Leave The Factory

July 26th, 2020

Why Charlie Can’t Leave The Factory

After a reveal of cotton candy sheep being
shorn for confectionery purposes in the
Burton Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film:
Willy Wonka – “I’d rather not talk about this one.”

You peer a possible pasture in a
pink corridor.  Perhaps peeking proves it?
Perchance a perpendicular door plays
with peripheral vision, pomegranate
sheep producing shorn candy floss piles pruned
to palatable heaps?  Panicked to peep
Continue reading “Womannotated – Why Charlie Can’t Leave The Factory”

Womannotated – Hot Chocolate!

Two Golden Tickets sonnets (my Charlie and The Chocolate Factory homage book of poems) from the Hot Chocolate section which involves chocolatier love triangles, femme fatale industrial spies, strip clubs and licorice .

Sugar Daddy’s

A strip club in which Arthur Slugworth, chocolatier competitor of Willy Wonka, meets the woman who will become his secretary and industrial spy and future lover of Willy Wonka.

American Candy Expo meets in
Chicago each year. Arthur Slugworth’s jet
consistently appears before show begins
day early to play. Bittersweet secrets
over his butterscotch schnapps confessed
to the ponytailed stripper; her peach ring
pop, bubblegum thong, sweet visage suggests
she is a shell you could tell anything Continue reading “Womannotated – Hot Chocolate!”

Womannotated – Golden Ticket

 

Two Golden Ticket Dark Chocolate Sonnets:

IMG_2432

illustration by Amy Suzanne

Pipe Dream

“He’s changed!” said Grandpa Joe, peering down through the glass wall of the elevator. 
“He used to be fat! Now he’s thin as straw.” Grandpa Joe on Augustus after the pipe,
Roald Dahl Charlie and the Chocolate Factory 

 All they saw, “thin as straw” Augustus who

once was not.  Boy almost boiled inside

a chocolate pot, consumed post fudge room

before the change.  Chocolate liquefied

Continue reading “Womannotated – Golden Ticket”

Essay by Rosa Jones

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Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

 

 

essay: Insipid / Intrepid

 

As the adventurous person talks on, I am struck by a sense that they are confident and unperturbed by minor setbacks. I find myself specifically interested in the banal logistics of what it means to be that way, more than being interested in their actual stories. I feel that there’s no way for me to think cleverly about what it means to live an interesting life, or what it means to be fluid and graceful as you move through the world.  Continue reading “Essay by Rosa Jones”

Womannotated – Underneath

 

The following is a brand new poem written for The Meadow, my bdsm themed poetry collection about my time in the world of bdsm as a young woman.  I wrote this piece as well as the Reader’s Guide I published below to enhance your pleasure and understanding of the text.  Order your own Meadow at apeppublications.com.

Underneath 

Before you call yourself a womanchild,

you fly to New York City, college girl 

costumed to be defiled, pigtailed, beguiled 

before a bedtime story, too.  A whirl-

wind trip in which he will present to you 

Red, topsy-turvy, Riding Hood one night, Continue reading “Womannotated – Underneath”

Burnt Flowers Fallen: Sex, Death and Postmodern Re-Sanctification of the Feminine in Ana Mendieta’s Silueta Series (1973–1980), by Giovanni Pennacchietti

In the contemporary art world, it is apparent that art suffers from a perpetual crisis of meaning. Since the collapse of great cultural signifiers, the role of the artist is no longer seen as being at the forefront of revealing truth or informing culture. Rather, artists are the ones rummaging among the ruins, picking at and scavenging dead cultural signifiers, or kicking them aside to pursue a course of pure unencumbered self-exploration, only one that is stultified and cemented-in by reified identity-categories; but to what end or final terminal point does art itself reach when the symbols shatter? It is a certain attribute of the postmodern age that art, from its creation, display and execution, is anything at all which can be seen through the aesthetic lens. If art is everything then (like Arthur Danto suggestion) it is simultaneous nothing. So where does this leave the questions that drive headlong into the heart of existence itself, such as the nature of death, love, sexuality and metaphysics? 

In spite of the denials and scoffing of the dower, cynical and chic nihilist art world, that metaphysical element of existence itself is the linchpin from which we can even think about the two primarily lurid fascinations contemporary art is fixated on, that being sexuality and death. So why is metaphysics, the ecstasies and haecceities of religion, the terrible and precarious beauty of belief in the wake of the absolute so glaringly absent in contemporary art?  Perhaps the spiritual never left the art world, but was forced to take on numerous, inverted and even covert forms. it is also apparent that the nature of the Feminine itself is also another subject of obsession in the work of art, which brings us to our main topic of exploration, the once forgotten (but recently revived) works of Ana Mendieta; Cuban born performance, sculpture and instillation artist who worked in Iowa and then New York (till her tragic, untimely and notorious end allegedly at the hands of her artist husband Carl Andre), Mendieta embodied the postmodern artist at once in search of not only identity and expressions of the feminine, but the ritualistic and mystical. Hence Through a review of her famed Silueta or “silhouette” series, we shall discover a deep aesthetic meditation on not only sex and death, but a revival of the spiritual in postmodern art. We shall also cautiously venture away from the insipid and ubiquitous interpretation of her work through the lens of contemporary identity politics, and instead focus squarely on the spiritual elements of her oeuvre. Continue reading “Burnt Flowers Fallen: Sex, Death and Postmodern Re-Sanctification of the Feminine in Ana Mendieta’s Silueta Series (1973–1980), by Giovanni Pennacchietti”

Moods and Moments: On Writing Death, by Duncan Stuart

“Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well, yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.” – Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky.


Martin Amis once claimed that writing sex scenes produced only two results: comedy or pornography. Perhaps the great insight of Philip Roth was to combine these elements. At the other end of things, we are confronted with a similar problem: how to write death. This was a problem that Roth never tackled in his writings – unless one counts the social death associated with being transmogrified into a tit.

What Amis is getting at is that there are certain subjects writing fails to capture. Things that form the very fabric and preconditions of our existence, that remain uncapturable in a way that describing, say, a living room does not.

This problem, which Amis identifies with sex, occurs at the other end, so to speak. There is a problem with writing death. How can one write death in the first person? Continue reading “Moods and Moments: On Writing Death, by Duncan Stuart”

Womannotated – The Night A Crow Must Go Away

A sample page from Crow Carriage, an annotated poetic horror novel set in a Victorian English seaside village.  This is the format of  the Crow Carriage book, a sonnet with an expansive annotation that tells a story in prose below (the same format as my book Flutter available at my website and Twist In Time).

The Night The Crow Must Go Away

You lie beneath a dozen nightmares.  Screams

careening down a crow-covered stair wake

you in the last second before the dream.

Continue reading “Womannotated – The Night A Crow Must Go Away”

Thanatos, My Lover, by Alex Amos

Human beings have a proclivity for interpreting their experiences through a dualistic lens. Maybe it has something to do with the hemispheric structure of our brains; or perhaps, it’s simply because we’re stimulated by the novelty of contrast. Whatever the reason, we can be certain that since time immemorial we have sought to make sense of the world through binary models of interpretation. Binaries act as information filters by simplifying complexity down to its most essential elements; also, the bridging and combining opposing differentials can potentially stimulate new avenues of creative thought. If they are given over to representation, binaries perform a symbolic function by embodying multiple information sets within a unified aesthetic. Continue reading “Thanatos, My Lover, by Alex Amos”

Womannotated, Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life

Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life

 

When you are raised by fundamentalists,

at slumber parties you resist. Approved-

of-girl, goes to your church, sly fantasist

whom no one hurts, her mom insists

you stay the night — both look sufficiently up-

tight, lacy collars, skirts below the knee.

Continue reading “Womannotated, Dirty Dancing Saves Your Life”

Womannotated, Crow Carriage

 A Crow Carriage

Sonnet Double Feature:

 

Mistress of Malice 

Ten miles upon a tufted seat, elm trees

to village path, discreet, a beast will ride

to seaside town.  One hooded straggler by

him found, too young this hour to be outside

indecent bodice, brown eyes wide.  Fingers Continue reading “Womannotated, Crow Carriage”

The Queer Sapphic Double Vision of Michael Field by Gabrielle Everall

The Queer Sapphic Double Vision of Michael Field.
by Gabrielle Everall

In the following I will give a reading of the embodiment theory of Merleau-Ponty to articulate the lesbian body in the work of the Victorian poet Michael Field. The aim is to show how such a reading of the female body allows lesbian possession in the double vision of the authorship of Michael Field. Continue reading “The Queer Sapphic Double Vision of Michael Field by Gabrielle Everall”

Womannotated – I Was Blythe

I Was Blythe

I would do anything to not be cute,

fifteen, though it’s, without dispute, what I am,

Blythe doll eyes, wide face, small limbs a brute

could hold in place with fingertips.  Brown eyes Continue reading “Womannotated – I Was Blythe”

mother, the objects by Elizabeth Kolenda

Screenshot_20191213-182853__01(1) Continue reading “mother, the objects by Elizabeth Kolenda”

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