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BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Not For Profit/For Prophecy

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Poetry

In Tree Sky by Oliver Strand

Folds. Folding down

together in a group: sliding them around on the floor.

Tilting like a choking child (oneself), two splitting arcs,

two folds

on the inside. In back of. Value? Untouch,

untouch in tree sky, someone in tree sky, tree sky . . .

the internal color

bobs as I walk, flashes. I

pinched the flesh into a little wing.

——-

Continue reading “In Tree Sky by Oliver Strand”

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Gertrude Stein Speaks by Mare Leonard

a dirty word a dirty

bird a time to speak

to sacrifice fantasize do not

disguise or pretend do not decline poison

poison alas a dirty bird a dirty third

a vulture vulture defecates spits from his mouth

ties neat excrements with string repeats repeats

it is a need, no evil is wide, it is time for sweet

relief a hole inside a pot leaking leaking leaking

any decline is poison a no nonsense & no sense sense

it is time to end the first call dares there will be time &

boom in “What we call the beginning is often the end.”

And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where

we start from boom it in it is a need it is a need it is butter is *

*excerpts from T.S. Eliot And Gertrude Stein

Continue reading “Gertrude Stein Speaks by Mare Leonard”

How To Fly by hiromi suzuki

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Two geoglyphs by Astra Papachristodoulou

Continue reading “Two geoglyphs by Astra Papachristodoulou”

The house of dust by Mina Polen

Continue reading “The house of dust by Mina Polen”

Three visual poems from Flakes of Fickle Quicklime by Iris Colomb

neck all this I

Continue reading “Three visual poems from Flakes of Fickle Quicklime by Iris Colomb”

A poem and an essay by Tim Kiely

Whirlwind Records Sampler Tracklist: A Response

1. as if reprogramming were possible

2. crisis sounds no slackening

3. stable bass in its old scrape

4. looms thin as royalty

5. an unconvincing radio show

6. this party only happens in code

7. spring signs itself slow

8. marks breaks in hard waves

9. majestic extinction’s wingbeats

10. up the monotone slopes

11. only shapes are glorious

12. calling once and once and once

13. our angles flee and reconfigure

14. beneath a broad belly of green

15. shape hopes to a low horn

16. the re-education in opposition

17. held between dim hands

Shuffle as required

Continue reading “A poem and an essay by Tim Kiely”

A Shuffled Playlist by Emma Miles

Continue reading “A Shuffled Playlist by Emma Miles”

Three poems by Warren Czapa

Continue reading “Three poems by Warren Czapa”

Breathing Underwater by Amanda McLeod and Elisabeth Horan

Tumbling down the rabbit hole, lights out

And I remember I am not my mother —

Arms out straight in this darkness, the switch

Is a brutal one: on/off sane/insane

The voice I hear belongs to a stranger

She is a lonely angel; how have I never

Accepted her? Each night: a knife to her

Throat; each day… a gloss veneer Continue reading “Breathing Underwater by Amanda McLeod and Elisabeth Horan”

Two erasure triptychs by Shloka Shankar

Erasure Triptych #1

Continue reading “Two erasure triptychs by Shloka Shankar”

Mumble by CDN Warren

Continue reading “Mumble by CDN Warren”

Faltering Hours by Robin Anna Smith and Shloka Shankar

Continue reading “Faltering Hours by Robin Anna Smith and Shloka Shankar”

The Voice and its Veils by Lucy Dawkins and Anthony Etherin

Continue reading “The Voice and its Veils by Lucy Dawkins and Anthony Etherin”

E=mc2 by Kylie Supski & ReVerse Butcher

Continue reading “E=mc2 by Kylie Supski & ReVerse Butcher”

Two visual poems by David Turner

Dear David, as agreed this is your crisis plan

Continue reading “Two visual poems by David Turner”

dead women in adverts by Eve Black

——-

Eve Black writes poems. Twitter: @EV3diary

Banner image by James Knight.

Four visual poems by Richard Biddle

Ha I Know U

——- Continue reading “Four visual poems by Richard Biddle”

Dalí and Alice by Elodie Barnes

Inspired by Salvador Dalí’s illustrations for ‘Alice in Wonderland’.

Continue reading “Dalí and Alice by Elodie Barnes”

Rot by Kevin Farrell

Call up your dead ones,
let ‘em know where they buried their bones,

shit isn’t meant to be,
just manifest what is into being,

muster up the strength to leave the apartment,
anxiety used to be hell without drugs,

now we’re walking clean, clean, clean and clean with meaning,

pretentious former addicts pissing off the weekend warrior drunks who want to piss the bed in peace.

All the apples of the family tree 
convinced they’re not as rotten as me,

drink yourself under the table
playing footsie with sobriety.

  Continue reading “Rot by Kevin Farrell”

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