Search

BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Not For Profit/For Prophecy

Category

Poetry

Best Practices For Staying Hydrated by Griffin Ward

A set of beliefs about the future (it’s right now)

Can you afford to eat right now? I need to know if you can afford to eat right now we need to know if we can take anything else away from you.

Continue reading “Best Practices For Staying Hydrated by Griffin Ward”

Advertisements

3 Poems by Rachel Thorpe

Mercy Hospital

If god is always watching we should give him a good view / He compressed us into a VHS tape that eats itself every million years or so / We look for our rosaries at the bottom of river Styx / all wrapped up in grocery bags because we want to stay weak / the kids you grew up with in the back of the classroom / with snot on their chins / and white eyes because everything is pure / When you were thirteen you ate the world and puked your guts out across December / Until all the snow melted and flooded the places she could have been born / A 1969 blue Chevy Camaro drives down the beach and chews up the ocean underneath / girls cannot survive on saltwater alone Continue reading “3 Poems by Rachel Thorpe”

Difficult Colours by Jordan Trethewey

Mottled brilliance of chameleon leaves,
a concert audience on the horizon,
120 km/h on the crest of a highway hill.
My son loves fall colors.

Brittle gutter leaves under my feet
are your idiotic face, belly mom. Continue reading “Difficult Colours by Jordan Trethewey”

2 Poems by Jesse Rice-Evans

The Surge, or Remember the Time

after Grey’s Anatomy S09E02

I cut my body into little suns
– Carrie Lorig

patience is canon—something to spit out,
re-engulf, me, that I may be re-shaped
without heaving muscle, the clamps
anchor my scapula, your lighthouse
done ignoble, instead miraculous

Continue reading “2 Poems by Jesse Rice-Evans”

Ghost Feet, Some Booze, and My Living Room: A Sad Party by Dom Fonce

the lawn / Is pressed by unseen feet, and ghosts return /
Gently at twilight, gently go at dawn.
                                                            —T.S. Eliot, “To Walter de la Mare”

My father died in our living room.
Continue reading “Ghost Feet, Some Booze, and My Living Room: A Sad Party by Dom Fonce”

2 Poems by Sagaree Jain

The Things I Called You Were Never Quite Right

But I was preoccupied with
wonder. A cursory ask: is gay-boy
the same as femme, the same as
gender- queer, the same as sharp, then soft,

then wading destitute through
swamps of molasses? I was so
distracted, drowned in the black rush
of mascara in untouched eyelashes.

Continue reading “2 Poems by Sagaree Jain”

Home by Shannon Donaghy

I know better than to leave a place
And expect to find it
Exactly where I left it
This time, I return home a foreigner Continue reading “Home by Shannon Donaghy”

3 Poems by Shriram Sivaramakrishnan

Epistemology

1

a b c d e f g h i think, therefore i am
a shot of Espresso

2

a shot of Espresso has an i
the cup has an i
the coffee powder an i
so has every coffee granule &
the sugar powder & every sugar crystal &
the water & every covalent bond of water
& every H atom
& every O atom

Continue reading “3 Poems by Shriram Sivaramakrishnan”

My Naming by Eve Black

zero: Eve

millennia of shame
bound up in my name

Eve

is tongue-tied

God’s sticky sauce on the spare rib
Adam needn’t wank off every night
not now
not now I’m here named maimed incomplete no cock
Continue reading “My Naming by Eve Black”

3 Poems by Paul Brookes

Mutable

In one glance you’re a girl clad in silks,
in another a man in a jumper,
turn my back you’re a farmer,
blink and you’re a hunter,
fetch a pint and you’re a fisherman.
I wake up to a shepherd,
come back from a shift to a carjacker.

Continue reading “3 Poems by Paul Brookes”

Everything by Line Toftsø

I want to be promised
everything.
My hand I am
so wet
the simultaneous breaths
are soaking
everything Continue reading “Everything by Line Toftsø”

In Anticipation Of The Singularity by Mark Beechill

It was a bad day:

By the end of it

He had become convinced

That the landscape of the city

Had been usurped Continue reading “In Anticipation Of The Singularity by Mark Beechill”

Meeting Frank by Loretta Oleck

Fying from New York to Athens,

I am seated next to a man named Frank.

 

35,000 feet in the air,

high above sea level,

far from swelling waves – Continue reading “Meeting Frank by Loretta Oleck”

Two Poems by John Boursnell

Fushimi Inari

We walked into the dark-

-er and darker red gates and long long steps

a key between my teeth

shiny shiny boots plastic

cup of warm white wine Continue reading “Two Poems by John Boursnell”

whatitoka (doorway) by Kathleen McLeod

Crying on the threshold, waiting to step into light, waiting to step into a history of pain. I am at the doorway now. The process of healing hollows me out, a tree preparing to become a waka. Sailing back in time into an ocean of grief and love, back to where I began, back to where we first landed. Continue reading “whatitoka (doorway) by Kathleen McLeod”

This Place is Ours by Hazel Warren

We wandered the streets
Pointing out our childhood
Every detail that remains
A teenaged memory Continue reading “This Place is Ours by Hazel Warren”

Walking Westward, Toward Jerusalem, Across The Jordan Valley by Aiya Sakr

And once we’ve reached the bridge, we stop.
I have seen the native fellaheen* cross on bikes and motorbikes,
phones in their back pockets,
blasting music that hits like sudden hail in the country stillness,
bites,
and echoes away. Continue reading “Walking Westward, Toward Jerusalem, Across The Jordan Valley by Aiya Sakr”

Make A Way If There Isn’t One by Heather Saunders Estes

Finders of hidden places,

young children, explorers, climbers,

crawl under fence wires, dig, cut,

trespass on private property, Continue reading “Make A Way If There Isn’t One by Heather Saunders Estes”

Creation by Erynn Pontius

It burst out of you like a swarm of bees,
And you didn’t recognize the scream.

Moonlight drizzled across your forehead
Like milk and honey seeping from the comb. Continue reading “Creation by Erynn Pontius”

Two Poems by Janet Reed

Foreclosure

Her alligator appetites had long devoured
the marshes, owned the bayous
in the rooms of our house

by the time she was widowed at sixty.
Our live-in-the-moment mother
trained us to feed on each other, Continue reading “Two Poems by Janet Reed”

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: