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Three Poems by S.L. Lim

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Photo by Laurent Perren on Unsplash

 

 

poem: Bratislava 2016/ Sydney 2020

 

Where I’d like to be: a place with clean white sheets.

A hotel room, I’ve always loved them. View from the

window – not the ocean or anything, just trees

on a hill with some brutalist buildings and a pink and

orange sunset at rest behind. Luxurious.  

Continue reading “Three Poems by S.L. Lim”

Three Poems by Michele Mekel

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Photo by Oliver Roos on Unsplash

 

 

poem: The Crossroads

 

The Cailleach’s breath rattles through the barren branches of the standing talls,

as midnight’s moon casts a cold glance upon all below.

 

Bearing gifts of coin and confections, tipple and tapers, I come to the crossroads 

to petition and pray, as the witching hour draws near and the veil thin.

Continue reading “Three Poems by Michele Mekel”

Short Story by David Kuhnlein

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Photo by Naomi August on Unsplash

 

 

story: The Dog

 

Their clothes are ironed on them in the shape of death. Soggy bread of a sky looking over, he gargles time release capsules. Not enough pills milled for the morning after. The frosted flakes expired; he flops between her shrubbery, bulge withering beneath a dress. “It’s no longer in style to be a bad lay,” she says. He vows to return her to the urn, drops her off for cognitive behaviorals instead. “Listen to a woman once and you become her therapy dog,” his mother always said, teeth gnawing through his skull like fly eggs, speaking through a bisection of his face in swarms. “We’re all Satan’s puppet, a populace atop the hoof.” He hears her talk to the shrink through walls so thin he wishes they were her clothes. He tends to end up overacting in the bear costume she makes him wear. They’ve been brining bite marks on each other. In utter silence their chalky mouths resemble apple seeds, if worms took the core. “What eats the worms after they eat us?” Entwined guts, reshuffling microbiomes a couple viruses at a time, they’re not worth the ekphrastic flesh of their penny masks.

Continue reading “Short Story by David Kuhnlein”

Two Poems by Michaela Mayer

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Photo by Mike Von on Unsplash

 

 

poem: The Hunt

 

we flicker from pixel to pixel

the dream of this inverted world

our bodies dissolved into digits

 

the horizon flattens and winks out

into an oblate blank plane, stretched

thin between plates of strange glass 

we are reborn with ease here

free to reconstruct, to glut ourselves

 on electric subjectives 

Continue reading “Two Poems by Michaela Mayer”

Two Poems by Julie Stevens

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Photo by Christian Fregnan on Unsplash

 

 

poem: Take me to a Place

 

Take me to a place

where you feel no pain

where no one cries

where no troubles exist

 

Show me the path

that I need to follow

to find this land

where everything works

 

Can anyone hear me cry?

Because right now 

I am so very lost

so very tired and broken

Continue reading “Two Poems by Julie Stevens”

Two Poems by Ahimaz Rajessh

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Photo by Patryk Grądys on Unsplash

 

 

poem: time travel is cruel & kind

 

you’re me. i’m not

one but so many.

you do not walk.

empty and rootless i drift. i’m

you. as everyone digs out caste histories and thump their chests and thighs you drift and i turn at right angles. time’s not linear but parallel. adrift i turn left right left you turn at left angles.

 

cyclone of light or what, i say

Continue reading “Two Poems by Ahimaz Rajessh”

Three Poems by Donna Dallas

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Photo by Wendy Scofield on Unsplash

 

poem: Building Blocks

 

Sometimes I just want to buy something

fuck like it’s the last hurrah

build an ant farm

               although I don’t like ants

I want to do a thing – some kind of thing

               (I started this when I was walking)

and then climbed into myself  Continue reading “Three Poems by Donna Dallas”

Three Poems by Mugu Ganesan

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Photo by Inja Pavlić on Unsplash

 

poem: Noise of life

 

The last autumn leaf now falling 

               And drifting towards alien lands, 

Barren boughs of the maple tree 

               Shivering in the wind’s cold clasp, 

Besotted moths still chasing flames, 

               Days seeking nights pursuing days,  Continue reading “Three Poems by Mugu Ganesan”

New Poem by Lucy Whitehead

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Photo by Mark de Jong on Unsplash

 

poem: The Painter

 

How do I answer 

the call of canvas

when I have no hands 

to spin light into paint

 

to sift sun and shadow

like yolk from its egg  Continue reading “New Poem by Lucy Whitehead”

Two Poems by Jon Bishop

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Photo by Makenna Entrikin on Unsplash

 

poem: Driving

 

The moan of late-night cars cruising the highway—

ghostly, but not ghosts. Call them cries at 3 a.m.,

memories bursting forth from the brain,

gasps in bed, a shout to the darkness.

 

Or call them inadequacies, pains,

breaths too quick, perpetual reveries:

that time you, sick, quit your job and fled

to anywhere, multiple places, seeing multiple

sights and multiple people, all who smiled

and looked around, seemingly happy,

but inside were bursting  Continue reading “Two Poems by Jon Bishop”

Three Poems By Joe Rathgeber

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Photo by Alekzan Powell on Unsplash

 

poem: DEAR LANDLORD

                                                                  after Bob and Boots

 

Please don’t put a price on my apartment.
It’s yours more than mine, though.                     You can’t
help                     but           exploit that.
So                   I’ll help you along.
I know your histories of arson. Your predilection
for insurance claims.           I’m no                     dummy—
I know hiphop was born from the sepulcher
of                     a burning Bronx. But let me do
the burning. Let me clear the place out and gut it.
It’s drafty as fuck in here, in there.                   Continue reading “Three Poems By Joe Rathgeber”

Two Poems by Kyla Houbolt

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Photo by Jonathan Pendleton on Unsplash

 

poem: out of the woods

 

I’ve been standing here so long the leaves have begun to pile up around my feet. In the distance I can hear sirens. Here comes the rain. The sun shines next. How did they know where to go? Maybe they didn’t, those sirens, maybe they were lost, I think they were lost, wailing like that. Maybe that’s what always happens with sirens, they can’t find where they are supposed to go and they wail in fear and sorrow. Nobody gets helped, the fire burns down the house, the ill do not get taken to the hospital but either recover or die all on their own. The suspects get clean away, they go into the basement and start counting their take. Someone has to deal with the corpse though. They have a designated corpse handler, I suspect. They laugh at all those wailing sirens. They get into fights over how to divide up the drugs and money, but there’s nobody to call. Some of them kill each other, which is probably a good thing, or at least some people would think so. Not their mothers though. Well, not most of their mothers. The mean mothers are glad. The mean mothers are the ones who made sure the instructions were wrong and the maps broken so the sirens could never get where they meant to go in the first place. So those particular mothers sigh, smile at each other, brush their hands together, go back into their several kitchens, make a gin and tonic (light on the tonic, dear) and relax. What is that? Oh! the birds have started finding my hair and I think there are leaves budding out and that’s a good thing, it will help hide me. Even though the sirens can’t find me, I am still afraid my mother will. I may stay here. Why not? I am hidden real well now, and the squirrels have started bringing me nuts. Look. A bird places a morsel in my mouth. I know I will not starve. One day I will leave the woods, but not today.
Continue reading “Two Poems by Kyla Houbolt”

Short Story by Stephen Orr

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Photo by Cam Fattahi on Unsplash

 

short story: Point Nemo

He’s been on two journeys in his lifetime. Firstly, Antarctica. With his son, Mark. Arriving by air, setting out (despite all the warnings), saying to the seventeen year old boy, We must take our first reading from the coastline. Mark saying, How can we do that? It’s covered in a billion tonnes of ice. 

That doesn’t matter. Continue reading “Short Story by Stephen Orr”

APRIL 2020 Guest Editor Is upfromsumdirt!!! THEME: ESCAPISM

Burning House Press are excited to welcome upfromsumdirt as our APRIL 2020 guest editor! As of today upfromsumdirt will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of APRIL.

Submissions are open from today – 1st APRIL and will remain open until 24TH APRIL.

upfromsumdirt‘s theme for the month is as follows

ESCAPISM

“escapism” captures the meaning of something liberating, physically, in spirit, in heavy thought or deep imagination, or in the heart.

a personal desire or something unbeknownst that calls to you. practical or farcical.

a journey, personal or communal, with a definitive destination, real or imagined.

Continue reading “APRIL 2020 Guest Editor Is upfromsumdirt!!! THEME: ESCAPISM”

SEX & DEATH IN THE AGE OF AQUARIUS EDITION MARCH 2020 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY JOAN POPE

SEX & DEATH IN THE AGE OF AQUARIUS EDITION MARCH 2020 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY JOAN POPE

Continue reading “SEX & DEATH IN THE AGE OF AQUARIUS EDITION MARCH 2020 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY JOAN POPE”

MARCH 2020 Guest Editor Is JOAN POPE!!! THEME: SEX AND DEATH IN THE AGE OF AQUARIUS

Burning House Press are excited to welcome JOAN POPE as our MARCH 2020 guest editor! As of today JOAN will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of MARCH.

Submissions are open from today – 1st MARCH and will remain open until 24TH MARCH.

Joan‘s theme for the month is as follows

SEX AND DEATH IN THE AGE OF AQUARIUS

Continue reading “MARCH 2020 Guest Editor Is JOAN POPE!!! THEME: SEX AND DEATH IN THE AGE OF AQUARIUS”

STUDIES IN THE HIGH (GAUDY) DOMESTIC EDITION FEBRUARY 2020 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY OLIVIA CRONK

STUDIES IN THE HIGH (GAUDY) DOMESTIC EDITION FEBRUARY 2020 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY OLIVIA CRONK

4TH FEB

In bed, by Rhian Sasseen

Mommy, by Nikki Wallschlaeger

The dark should be safe, by Emma Lee

Continue reading “STUDIES IN THE HIGH (GAUDY) DOMESTIC EDITION FEBRUARY 2020 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY OLIVIA CRONK”

Mommy, by Nikki Wallschlaeger

        

           For Sage 

Mommy, I need some help. Watch cartoons with me, Mommy. You my mommy. Henry’s a nice pup. I’m hungry, Mommy. I want some pizza. I want some juice. Mommy, I got poop pants. I come outside with you, Mommy. Thanks. Read books with me, Mommy. Snuggle with me. I don’t want to take a nap. Mommy, help, help. You a nice Mommy. When is Daddy coming home. Where is brother. It’s yucky. I don’t like it, I don’t like it, Mommy. Nice dog. Fast race car. My bike, my bike, Mommy. No doggy. Henry’s a nice dog. Give my Mommy a kiss, carry me Mommy. Where is bus. BUS! Find a different one. This. Come on, Mommy. What’s that noise. Go find treasure for you. Mermaids, sharks. Mommy what you doing. Daddy’s at work?  Brother is at school. Take a bath. I want to take a bath, Mommy. Splash Mommy. Boats. Submarine. Mommy, I got owie. Right there. How about some cookies. Fine. You stop it, you do it. I found something, Mommy. Open. Yummy food. I want blue, yellow. I want to help you, Mommy. Mine.

________________

Nikki Wallschlaeger’s work  has been featured in The Nation, Brick, American Poetry Review, Witness,   Kenyon Review, POETRY, and others. She is the author of the full-length collections Houses (Horseless Press 2015)  and Crawlspace (Bloof 2017) as well as the graphic book I Hate Telling You How I Really Feel (2019) from Bloof Books. She is also the author of an artist book called “Operation USA” through the Baltimore based book arts group Container, a project acquired by Woodland Pattern Book Center in Milwaukee. Her third collection, Waterbaby, is forthcoming from Copper Canyon Press in 2021. // @nikkimwalls

_________________

Banner image by Olivia Cronk

In bed, by Rhian Sasseen

I.

In bed, I am writing this to you in bed. I spend so much time here: eating, sleeping, fucking. Waiting for the day finish. Longing for the night to begin. Wishing that I were someone other than myself, that I was somewhere other than my bed. “I am a completely horizontal author. I can’t think unless I’m lying in bed…” Supine. Sleepless. In bed there is only the passivity of time. The comfort of duty. You’re supposed to lie there, you’re supposed to lie in bed and wait for sleep to come. Dreaming, dreaming is the one thing I don’t do in bed. There are no smells in dreams, no tastes. A horizontal life.

Continue reading “In bed, by Rhian Sasseen”

FEBRUARY 2020 Guest Editor Is OLIVIA CRONK!!! THEME: STUDIES IN THE HIGH (GAUDY) DOMESTIC

Burning House Press are excited to welcome OLIVIA CRONK as our FEBRUARY 2020 guest editor! As of today Olivia will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of FEBRUARY.

Submissions are open from today – 1st FEBRUARY and will remain open until 23RD FEBRUARY.

Olivia‘s theme for the month is as follows

STUDIES IN THE HIGH (GAUDY) DOMESTIC

Continue reading “FEBRUARY 2020 Guest Editor Is OLIVIA CRONK!!! THEME: STUDIES IN THE HIGH (GAUDY) DOMESTIC”

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