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BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Not For Profit/For Prophecy

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Non-Fiction

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 – Underwater Sonnets

September 12th, 2020

Continue reading “Womannotated – Underwater Sonnets”

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”

PATHOGENESIS by Christina Tudor-Sideri

Pain rests within me like toxic algal bloom in the wine-dark sea. It courses through my body fleshing out the contours of a poetic impulse akin to renaturation, it screams in color—it screams in Homer’s presumed absence of blue. On some nights, it resurfaces the mind-body problem and reshapes it into a pseudo-debate before my eyes, into something that in its strive to go beyond experience, beyond the place where reason and intellect reside, erases itself in chaotic movement. In the midst of a flare-up, the mind-body dualism mutates into an illusion—illness both becomes and expunges the hyphen. And henceforth, it would seem that the ontological problem of hurting and aching and throbbing gains a curious and rather tragic destiny as well: that of being able to exist and be established solely at the cost of illusions, at the cost of reason’s chimeras. That of being unable to possess clarity except by analyzing its own decomposition, by disintegrating and dissipating its own chimeras, and thus obliterating all fantasies. Vertical like a pendulum’s rod, I let myself be worked on by death.[1] Pain possesses and abandons my body at will. Before my eyes, philosophical creation becomes neuropathically synonymous with the confusion of the patient.

Continue reading “PATHOGENESIS by Christina Tudor-Sideri”

First Person Shooter of the Heart by Jane Judith

Continue reading “First Person Shooter of the Heart by Jane Judith”

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”

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”

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”

of two orders by Clark Chatlain

of two orders

something else entirely. some other thing to see. not only at night or when lost in the basements of this world but in the bright day. in the brightness of the day. to see something else among the common. to see something else even there in the light in the house in the street. something revealed. something that in the past might have inspired a new line. a new belief. to see it. so that two visions could hold me. that of the eyes and that of this other sight. whatever it might be. whatever it might have been. Continue reading “of two orders by Clark Chatlain”

KETA-ME: My Ketamine Experience by Joseph Ellison Brockway

KETA-ME: My Ketamine Experience

I’m not certain of the order of each moment once the ketamine infusion began. But I do feel certain that I was aware of everything that was happening and that I was consciously guiding my experience and my thoughts while this mind-altering drug was filtering through my bloodstream. This, of course, stems from my penchant for controlling everything. Continue reading “KETA-ME: My Ketamine Experience by Joseph Ellison Brockway”

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”

Big Moves/Changes/ Feelings by Lauren Weik

When I first decided to move from Austin, TX to Los Angeles, I was leaving behind my friends, family, two jobs, and cat all in Texas to go finish school in a big, new city. I was freshly single after a relationship of two years, and I felt isolated, alone, but empowered to say the least.

The week before I moved from Austin, I said several goodbyes. To the job I worked for 3 years, to my students who I worked with in an after-school program. I moved everything out of my apartment and picked myself up after long sad nights.

During this transition period, talking about all the swift changes and new rules of the adult world proved difficult. I was only beginning to learn how to navigate my own mental health, and I went through my days carrying the weight of the breakup pain plus the grief of moving while others appeared to function and lead happy, perfect lives. I watched my 4 year old cousin turn 5, and we painted his hair pink. I went to Chicago by myself to visit an old friend. I packed up my belongings and dealt with the process of moving like a grown woman. Continue reading “Big Moves/Changes/ Feelings by Lauren Weik”

womannotated – Dollhouse Architect

 

Dollhouse Architect

Blueprinted girl rolled out wide to inspect

already torn, no one protects —  and why

should this one be tasked to care or respect,

question a purpose plans specify Continue reading “womannotated – Dollhouse Architect”

Womannotated – Calpurnia

Calpurnia

After Morticia Addams describing Wednesday’s
role model (“Wednesday’s great-aunt Calpurnia.
She was burned as a witch in 1706. They said she danced
naked in the town square and enslaved a minster ..
but don’t worry. We’ve told Wednesday: college first.”)

Young girls require a patron saint — aunt’s
abysmal ashes antiquate entwined,
Massachusetts grave, with God’s servant
whom she enslaved. Impious mind
in clerical cravat a town square dance
(performed in only raven plaits) bewitched Continue reading “Womannotated – Calpurnia”

Notes From The Drift by C.C. O’Hanlon

“Those who do not move, do not notice their chains.” – Rosa Luxemburg

 

My wife and I left Berlin as winter set in.

Our residence visas had expired. We were broke. Bailiffs were at the door. We had just enough money to make a run for it. I gave notice to the utility companies and our health insurer, forwarded our mail to a cancelled mailbox, and closed our bank account.
Continue reading “Notes From The Drift by C.C. O’Hanlon”

at seven o’clock in the evening by Jessica Sequeira

.  .  .  at seven o’clock in the evening, the light begins to fade and anguish begins. The light marks the frontier of something new, a border more dangerous than that of noon. This is the time of day when it becomes clear who is happy with life, and who can’t settle into it. At hotels and restaurants the waiters’ shift changes. For photographers it’s the magic hour when one can capture the most beautiful glow. Rohmer watched the green ray appear. Tanizaki set about penning his treatise in praise of shadow. This is the time it Continue reading “at seven o’clock in the evening by Jessica Sequeira”

Galen’s Heart by Tomoé Hill

Καρδιά. Kardiá. The heart. We think of it ruling emotion, when it was the ancient physician Galen who thought the liver was where passions lay. Maybe this is truer than we think—I go back again and again to the idea of drinking to countermand heartbreak, drowning one’s sorrows. Diana Vreeland telling the story of how Clark Gable locked himself in a room with a case of whisky after the death of Carole Lombard, Jean Rhys’ protagonists—the grimy, hard-learned wisdom of the café and those endless fines, pretending to be light-hearted when all the while you feel it throbbing, on fire in your throat; the Sisyphean act of swallowing beats as you drink your memories…

Continue reading “Galen’s Heart by Tomoé Hill”

Womannotated – No More Names

August 30th, 2019

No More Names

If you would follow, after dark, him and

his friends into the park — a boy who likes

to call you names, then make lewd demands,

midnight games. Mother said, “He’s so polite,”

his slick blonde hair, and Dad’s old spice, shirt tucked Continue reading “Womannotated – No More Names”

Border Works — Julia Beach, Janice Leagra, and Heather Derr-Smith. A Poetry, Mixed-Media and Video Collaboration with Additional Images by Robert Frede Kenter

woman in pink dress and wolf
Janice Leagra

sudden the homecoming

coyotes have learned to build traps
made of endings from the center of the earth

dressed as wolves they give them
to their loves who live in houses

with pink curtains and weather
warped floorboards

dictionaries and streaming services

Continue reading “Border Works — Julia Beach, Janice Leagra, and Heather Derr-Smith. A Poetry, Mixed-Media and Video Collaboration with Additional Images by Robert Frede Kenter”

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