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BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Not For Profit/For Prophecy

HOUSE SHOW ON GREENMOUNT PERMUTATED BY GROUPS OF 4 AND 5 LETTERS ALTERNATING, AND THEN 5 AND 6, AND THEN 6 AND 7, AND SO ON by John Crawford

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gittins etweenb ouplec uckingf acedna oejackt alcummi psonater silayd gwenwhs htinges topprem uchjuy ststia ndwatch tdhatsi ndwhok nsowevr enoyedn whosnse everyt hgnibutn everacs nonayth ngbecas eswhybo tlerand loooohw atchtih ndwhomi gthbehe enolyoe niattend ncetono toecitn mmyseyt itchwhe njohnny irowont tethimpl ydbeasa rhwichu ndernro mlacircu stances swoulde dninabr thatoir lsparty otwarda particl alandht nallato ecnconu slionbu twihcrs sultsto ightnina alfhass coverfo aloureed oongsur eallymu stimagni edaygwn nshoswat hctgint hatnotos siletne xchange ndthink gnibautw hatcouh ldevbeen hnensli mddleswa upcompl ytelegon outofhs simdnan dscrean igthewr nglyric stohallo eenparw deandmi sinterp getinex xactlyw hatladg wendosh ereorat anyplace wheneha skshertj ustwatc kidths whosecl yrvoeho eishdean intdhed inkgrin departmt ntandwh sbtoeenl dtositi nowthde eonthhec couchnds tayther rfochrsi tssakea ndwhowi lltryot dmrinkm orenihe tminutse ndwhow livomit naiboru entiminu sumidne ybdagwen whodtsne impedeb bcausea gatinha slikehe wohletn hign

neveomr elifilrp maginci gyields ccenes egendlel nardkra znpicar equejuns yxetrako rdinari ewhossjt timpedh iswayni ottepar tyswhosc crating roundaw tihjack ehcomumr ityheal htwroker resenpt doallst frodnesl ikosemt thingfor howandt ellrdon inginur nonmonos syllabe abouths sbenzed rinefue edpersn nllysubu versivo ntheruo hpyilosw ywhcihe veryone eunderst snadsae eingearn tinarea yllpasso ewayor elsejuts asironc callydet chedast ehcarht rttjack tyguswhs stitllg eeringo emewher proabyl. Jackie, all night, will tell anyone who listens that to her it’s unclear where the farce stops and the metaphor begins.

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AMERICAN METER COMPANY by Caroline McManus

THE RELIQUARY TRANSLATIONS (55-58)THE BRAZEN LIVER OF PIACENZA,THE NAME OF THE GOD OF THE WELL by James Rodker

fingers in your hair like harp strings
Star Anise          and acne 
wishbone split clean     and perfect
tzompantli               (skull rack)
The Anatomy      of the Horse
The boatbuilders,          starting to sing
to each other,     like spinning     sticky     rain
digital     relief     models     of the river valley
and the storm     from the plane 
A long life     held only in place     by brief pauses.
oracle bone script,     island     of white
blossom     and herons,     shifting     grey
silver     white     gold     pink,     knuckles    
blushing,     silver     birch
A life,     in leather jackets,     posing     at Herculaneum

I have seen pine trees,     loved them     & their properties     & their God
since I was a child.

At the Temple     de la Sybille,     in full sun
blood     and Vichy Catalan.
the glass bottom boat, the skylight, and the
sycamore                    (simulated     waves)
The Solar Barge     of Sesostris (1985-1988)
(father     of the blind king     Pheron)
Winter’s     Passage     from the Winter
Palace     in Luxor,          gleaming     in green
patina,    and in white     trembling   columns

on the Pont des Suicidés.
mosaics     of hanging     pig     carcasses
octopus,     tobacco,     and mackerel 
the Jardim     do Príncipe     Real
paused     at the moment     of fragment 
when the sky     would become     the canal

the pink     gridded     mantra page,     pinned 
to the plastered wall

a galaxy     of choreography     on the Bowery,
in Dim Sum Palace,     and the blizzard     outside,
in your bright     blue     mohair     jumper 
showed me     The Ascent     of the Blessed

(from the Visions     of the Hereafter)          A City
Lament     (in the collapsing     present)     of a city
after     Paris
(all cities     are laments     after Paris)
almost touching     embroidered     on black velvet
A Voyage     on the North Sea          (from 1973
-74)                         hearing     distant    rumours
of a war               in the Peloponnese 
marking off     the days     with blades     of grass
(McCarren Park)          or with skeins     of snow
years ago          today               listening     to
Music     from Saharan     WhatsApp
I never thought          you’d be          everything
the shape          of the smoke          in the room 
W 15 th St.          in the dusks     of an argument
intermittently     gasping     for air

The caprification     of fig trees
on the Turkish     Aegean 
(A Thousand Strings)

after the excavation     of thousands     of terracotta vessels
gridded the site     and left     under floodlights 
dappled    under    tamarind     trees

the lip of the bowl     (after Shōji Hamada)
sketched     on graph paper

and the chandelier     swung

the Berenike Buddha, lowered
into folds     of raw linen

October,     cross legged     on the bed     peeling blood oranges
simmering     coconut milk     and curry leaves      
sweet,     in the next room’s     tinsel

the white     Cycladic     marble     birds,     infinite
smoking     honey     for your throat     and warm
Lucozade,     hours     outside     of history

every car alarm     for a square mile,     at least 
every     gold and silver     dolphin.

Go,               and bury          slaughtered          oxen,
bees will spring     from the rotted corpse     of them,
and wasps          from the body          of the horse

and on the banks of the Nile     the ox would be buried upright,
so that the horns     would protrude     from the mud
and sometime after,     when the horns     would be severed
would find hordes     and clustered     swarms of them

the hives          anointed               with nard          and myrrh
or with thyme               or with white          poplar

and the horns,     and the bones,     and the hair,
and nothing else left

when the fleet,     casting anchor     at Rhodes,
threw earthenware pots     in the sea,
and as time     went on,          and mud     formed     around them,
and eleven days after          were hoisted 
and were found     encrusted     with oysters

Others,          having dried fenugreek     in the sun,          lay it in vessels:
(eight ounces     of well-ground     fenugreek)
and they pitch their casks with it,          for must     and for black vinegar,
and they pitch          the seams          of their ships               before leaving 
from Chios,               from Pyrrha     in Lesbos,               from Crete
and from ruin,          and shading their wares from the heat

and would spread          their ideas              like mould
between     creases

 

 

Phoenices by Conor Hultman

Phoenix XIII

tattoo of gemini & roman numeral II on right arm

T shirt
jeans
purple tennis shoes w/ the letter T on the side

Phoenix XXXV

scar on his arm

black jeans
belt
an our lady of guadalupe square leather pendant on a leather necklace

the victim was found deceased in a residence
his girlfriend did not know his real name

Phoenix XLI

white nike tennis shoes
green socks
brown dickeys pants
a black t shirt w/ jesus on it & a gray t shirt w/ the virgin of guadalupe on it
he also had a blue jacket & a baseball cap w/ the logo of the mighty ducks hockey team
a gold colored bracelet w/ the word paz
2 distinctive cigarette lighters

the victim died after he had an altercation while he was paint sniffing

JUNE 2025 Guest Editor Is JOHN TREFRY!!! THEME: INANIMISM

Burning House Press are excited to welcome JOHN TREFRY as the first BHP guest editor of our return series of special editions! As of today JOHN will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the month of JUNE.

Submissions are open from today – and will remain open until 25TH JUNE.

JOHN’S theme for the month is as follows

—INANIMISM—

Submission Guidelines

All submissions should be sent as attachments to guesteditorbhp@gmail.com

Please state the theme and form of your submission in the subject of the email. For example: INANIMISM/POETRY

Poetry and Fiction

For poetry submissions, submit no more than three of your best poems. Short stories should be limited to 1,500 words or (preferably) less. We encourage flash fiction submissions, no more than three at a time. Send these in as a .doc or .docx file, along with a short third-person bio, and (optional) photograph of yourself.

Art
Submit hi-res images of your works (drawings, paintings, illustrations, collages, photography, etc) with descriptions of the work (Title, Year, Medium, etc) in the body of the email. Files should be in .JPEG unless they are GIFs or videos, and should not exceed 2MB in size for each work. File names should correspond with the work titles. Video submissions can be uploaded onto Youtube or Vimeo for feature on our website. Send these submissions along with a short third-person bio, and (optional) photograph of yourself.

Virtual Reality/ 3D Artworks

For VR Submissions, please submit no more than three (3) individual artworks. For Tilt Brush works, please upload your artwork to Google Poly (https://poly.google.com/), and mark it as ‘public’ (‘remixable’ is at your own preference). A VR/3D artwork can also be submitted as a video export navigating through the artwork. If you prefer this method, please upload your finished video file to YouTube or Vimeo and provide a URL. With either format, please provide a 150 word artist’s statement.

Non-fiction
Non-fiction submissions (essays, reviews, commentary, interviews, etc) should be no more than 1, 500 words and sent as a .doc or .docx file along with your third-person bio/and optional photograph.

Submissions are open until 25th JUNE – and will reopen again on 1st JULY2025/for new theme/new editor/s.

BHP online is now in the capable hands of the amazing JOHN TREFRY – friends, arsonistas, send our JUNE 2025 guest editor your magic!

BHP RETURNS 2025

Burning House Press will be re-opening for intermittent guest edited editions in 2025 – this will be a completely speculative operation intended to test waters and take temperatures.

Like a lot of the world at that time, BHP were forced to abruptly cease operations during the peak of the pandemic in 2020 – factors including the mental, physical, spiritual and emotional onslaught of that time.

When BHP began in 2016 there had seemed to be a definitive place for a non-ego centred, community approach to literature and publishing – it is to be discovered whether the climate for BHP to exist within still remains.

Therefore – the reigniting of guest editor-led editions is contingent on these external factors and also the physical health of BHP.

We hope that you welcome this news – and will support the effort to return by publicising BHP news and sharing your creative works with upcoming guest edited editions – as we are rebuilding from a starter position at this time.

BHP have deleted all meta social accounts – and operations will be conducted via published content here – and publicised to the community only on Bluesky.

Please follow BHP on Bluesky here to keep in touch with our progress and be part of rebuilding the BHP community.

In the meantime – while your guest editors are assembling and mining the vein of the hour for the themes of each edition – BHP will be celebrating and reposting work from the previous series of guest-edited editions – look out for those posts on Bluesky.

Yours In Service Of Creativity…

Burning House Press

Womannotated – And Thou Shalt Judge The Expiring Soccer Mom

January 30th, 2021

And Thou Shalt Judge The Expiring Soccer Mom

after Servant, Season Two, Episode Three, Pizza

Surveil from silk sheets your mortal estate.
On suburban streets, death, afterlife vie
behind grandiose gates. Above play dates,
teammates, cheese pizza parties, skeletonize 
with the greatest of ease.  Caretakers doze
in proximate chairs.  Delicate wraith
tiptoes upstairs in prim servant’s clothes 
with bowls of puréed sustenance.  Your faith 
remakes a cadaverous countenance,
nasal cannula dispensable soon. 
Expiring soccer mom circumstances 
avoidable if you only commune 
with a macilent maiden magistrate.
Worthiness for rebirth, she calculates.

Continue reading “Womannotated – And Thou Shalt Judge The Expiring Soccer Mom”

Womannotated – Wide Eyed

January 23rd, 2021

Wide Eyed 

I get disheartened when an artist tells 
me they’re bored.  It’s especially brutal 
if I’ve adored you and the art propels 
my own rhetoric, research,
collections of folders some might besmirch. I think 
Stanley Kubrick would have approved though I’ve 
no warehouse of boxes when I’m extinct 
to prove my passion for working still thrives 
between poems and books.  We live 
amidst fascinations.  If we stay spry,
wide eyed enough, work is transformative. 
Suture eyes shut someday after I die
with the stories I’ve written, some I hoard. 
I’ll die exhausted.  I never lived bored. 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Wide Eyed”

Womannotated – Big Teeth

January 17th, 2021

Big Teeth 

Deep in the forest in a flannel nightdress,
a little girl lingers without much on 
her chest, shame in her heart, much to confess.
Here she is safe, completely at rest.  Gone 
the behemoths of yesteryear.  Her cheek 
on chenille, her brain bereft of all fear 
inside this night sans starlight except a meek
constellation of which faithfully appears
from a bedside nightlight replacing a moon
which made her weep more nights than swoon.  Tonight
she looks no father than this light of her room
which is not a metaphor — means to write.
No beseeching big teeth inside these woods — 
it ends with her pen like make believe should. 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Big Teeth”

Womannotated – Madonna & Manchild

January 9th, 2021

Madonna & Manchild 

Bury bereavement in cellar below 
with buttercup onesie, Château Pétrus  
Merlot  — a godless sacrament you know
is mortal sin.  Silicon reproduced
to simulate skin so your spouse can 
begin, maternal virgin, again. Sleep 
walk through mutual grief she countermands,
rationing love, plastic in pale hands. Keep
cries deep in your throat until she’s asleep.
A baby monitor projects its first 
weep — graveled, full grown. The hell two have reaped,
one remembers alone. Insatiable thirst
nursed by propped-up bottles inside brownstone,
She suckles a doll while you drink alone. 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Madonna & Manchild”

Womannotated – Pretty Maids All In A Row

Pretty Maids All In A Row

after Servant

Rambles past ringlets, ruffles, rouge to you, 
end of the queue, interviewed for the show,
television lady forgets your debut —
segment you are someone she chose to know.

Her fascinations are fleeting and slight,
provincially dressed princess one night.  Lives
she catalogues on oak shelves in plain sight. 
Decades of ingenues in her archives,

Continue reading “Womannotated – Pretty Maids All In A Row”

Womannotated – You’re At The Grownup Table Now

December 27th, 2020

You’re At The Grownup Table Now 

after Servant 

In vermillion lipstick, a Dorothy 
blue dress, borrowed ruby, ring finger, beaus
to impress, submit to a coy lady’s 
request for your red shoes before she goes
another night to Oz, woos a tasteless
Lothario.  Leave you with a boy, shrewd 
serpent in a kitchen sink.  First, you finesse,
send for something red to drink. Latter, you  
will batter until still quivering, peel.
Boy who prepares, serves eel on a plate rues 
the bell which summoned him, the man of steel 
who waits to throw him out; you must stroke his rage.
At the grownup table, you will come of age. 

Continue reading “Womannotated – You’re At The Grownup Table Now”

Womannotated – Atheist Barbie

December 19th, 2020

Atheist Barbie 

is unavailable in stores. Believes 
in Christmas trees, Taylor Swift Evermore
with little distinction between the motifs — 
cute aesthetics without fealty sworn. 
Like dollhouses dissected their families, some 
pink plastic posed preternaturally 
replacing puritans overcome 
with prayers, prurience, pageantry,
incest upstairs. A ripped Sunday school dress,
nothing beneath, long hair dyed forever noir,
fresh balsam wreath. Believer in kindness 
and twinkling lights, blessings in boudoirs,
tempestuous nights. deprived of her breath.
Nothing is deeper than sex, not even death. 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Atheist Barbie”

Womannotated – Oh The Places You Will Work Bitch And Not Be Free

Oh The Places You’ll Work Bitch

And Not Be Free

for Britney

For Disney, Pepsi, Bela Karolyi

(who USA gymnastics cut ties with

in pedophile controversy at the

remote training space, national forest

woods), Star Search, Broadway, Rolling Stone

(at seventeen in push-up bra, baby

blue velveteen rabbit inside her own

small town bedroom.), the 24, maybe

more, varietals of perfume; Sbarro,

Nabisco, HBO (Emmy wins for

concert docu shows), and their fathers, though,

even if estranged, legalities restore

a golden gosling to its violent cage

without telephone, medicated rage.

Continue reading “Womannotated – Oh The Places You Will Work Bitch And Not Be Free”

Womannotated – Hirsute

December 6th, 2020

Hirsute 

In middle school, bullied for body hair. 
Matched hair, eyes, contrasted fair skin, a shroud
I wear everywhere. Was so scared
to shave above the knee. Was told no one 
should look there anyway.  Was whispered of 
so many days in locker rooms by some 
with blonde peach fuzz which was what love
looked like, at this time, to me, Florida 
yellow/tan uniformity.  Was called 
a fiend, witch from another place, not of
the beach I breach, a plaited pouting pall 
their boyfriends chased, animal they want to taste,
shadow to hide inside this golden place.

Continue reading “Womannotated – Hirsute”

Womannotated – The Dirty Truth About Butterflies

November 29th, 2020

The Dirty Truth About Butterflies

It’s easy for a religiously bred

(misled) girl to make an Eden of

a garden, angels of winged soon dead,

repopulating in three weeks. But love’s

amino acids butterflies won’t find

in agapanthus nectar, waterfalls —

Continue reading “Womannotated – The Dirty Truth About Butterflies”

Womannotated – Radiant Heat

November 21st, 2020

Radiant Heat 

This is the time of day sunbeams cross my 

mattress, imprison flesh atop its breadth. 

Each breath, bee balm, bids eyelash butterflies 

vibrate; no body lies in wait bereft 

its pleasures just because it is alone

but moans all illuminations shone through nude 

windows. Your radiant heat upon bones,

Continue reading “Womannotated – Radiant Heat”

Womannotated – Macabre Burlesque

November 14th, 2020

Macabre Burlesque 

I live in a genre the aged read.
Decrepit men tell their mendacities 
before a final tomcatnap beneath 
cracked granite mausoleum roof.  This squeezed 
social register, not quite weatherproof,
trickles on nipples; a drooping sundress
exposes flesh, rose, only ghosts reprove 
or molest, witness this macabre burlesque.

Continue reading “Womannotated – Macabre Burlesque”

Womannotated – Holding Pond

October 7, 2020

Holding Pond


Kristin Garth

Gills desiccating, you glide through his house,

hair towel dried, Oxford shirt, slouched, secured 

with belt made oversized dress — yours doused

in his tank, under duress. Damp, demure

while you saunter down bifurcated stairs,

some guests the servants were unaware, out

his front door then driveway, street. Unprepared —

Continue reading “Womannotated – Holding Pond”

Womannotated – Texting Shakespeare

November 1, 2020

Texting Shakespeare

On the side of a road atop a stump

you seem cinched in by sunshine while you are 

slumped over a cellphone screen, bare goosebumped 

décolleté.  You ignore the people, cars.

You have something to say.  Instrumental 

Continue reading “Womannotated – Texting Shakespeare”

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