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BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Not For Profit/For Prophecy

Category

Fiction

Womannotated-Girlarium

Two Girlarium sonnets:

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Riverbed Reunion by Abiodun Usman

Very soon,  I will embrace my wife again as a farmer embraces the rainy season, or, like a groom embraces his new bride. I will be drenched in water. A sorrow–hidden moment it will be, just like January 1st, 2005. That was the last day I saw her heavy dimples and swollen abdomen. 

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Fear Thyself by Stephen Embleton

I lie on the bottom of the pool, my back resting lightly on the rough, cool marbelite; staring motionless up at the surface of the water. Four feet of water separates me from fresh, breathable air.

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Kids

I became a widow at the tender age of nine.

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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

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First Person Shooter of the Heart by Jane Judith

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lV + ll by Reza Pourdian and Callum Leckie

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OUTSIDE WORLD – A Multimedia Art Project by Noise Weaver

Small, childish hands of a small, childish body. And its childish legs stood on the ledge of a grey, concrete obelisk. Big, adult clothing was hung around and hugged its body. Slithered its hands and small, childish fingers out of the long, snake-like sleeve with two needles. Threw one over the ledge and punctured the young meat of its finger with the other. In from one and out from the other end. Sew the fabric of reality into itself.

It inhaled the measured, sonic existence of the concrete forest. After its hand came out when it reached into its pocket, the weird, long, white, plastic strand of earphones was hanging from its fingers and small, cute nails.

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VAMPYR by Louis Armand – an excerpt from a novel-in-progress

For we cannot define everything & must begin somewhere. The atoms whirl about, a picture forms. A hole that is no longer bottomless, contemplation of which, carrying the first sky, falling(mouthless)upon the first watcher…

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