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BURNING HOUSE PRESS

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JUNE 2020 Guest Editor Is NEVER ANGELINE NøRTH!!! THEME: LITERATURE FOR THE ABOLITION OF TIME

Burning House Press are excited to welcome NEVER ANGELINE NøRTH as our JUNE 2020 guest editor! As of today NEVER will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of JUNE.

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

NEVER’S theme for the month is as follows

LITERATURE FOR THE ABOLITION OF TIME

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Three Poems and a Recording by Chris Moran

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Antrophoaifgc Extinctosni by Rafael Lima

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Two Poems by Mark Valentine

Kohl Shadows Black Medlars

fastidious rosewater pink mache misted

a cobra petal inferred of grapebloom.

Dark Souls go to Osiris distant psychic

white sea-friend verdigris-luminescent

the old adroit ears rising of golden dog

in dusk with beasts in kohl shadows leading

the secret lucky blessed knave

black medlars opening purple in brooding

old road.in troubled sunlight ancient white  

sealing here the river stone the silver meadow


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Two Poems by James Knight

instructions

you have to press yourself           to the warm electrodes

let your torso be enveloped in something like the sea or blood

              and the voices   will inhabit you

in an operation unlike any poetry            you have ever heard

                           there is a small risk of drowning

they will sit behind screens impassive unblinking

              perhaps indicating state of mind

              by jabbing the dark glass

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Of Thread and Blood, An Installation by Sahba Sadeghian

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as the sea Sounds by Nathan Austin

Sounds ; it, ale , ill, Deep, d-3p. j. the fea, folemn part

in a great degree

to darken Deéply, Deep, ad in a high degree, forrowfully / the Cold

felt on collect- ing even warm Air with a Fan, or in

a ptinted flieet      to fzt a fla” upon., to frnijh / the

bringing fore the fire.      /     as its beauti. fire fl:lir~bl”;7.in,.!








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Womannotated – Golden Ticket

 

Two Golden Ticket Dark Chocolate Sonnets:

IMG_2432

illustration by Amy Suzanne

Pipe Dream

“He’s changed!” said Grandpa Joe, peering down through the glass wall of the elevator. 
“He used to be fat! Now he’s thin as straw.” Grandpa Joe on Augustus after the pipe,
Roald Dahl Charlie and the Chocolate Factory 

 All they saw, “thin as straw” Augustus who

once was not.  Boy almost boiled inside

a chocolate pot, consumed post fudge room

before the change.  Chocolate liquefied

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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.

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First Person Shooter of the Heart by Jane Judith

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lV + ll by Reza Pourdian and Callum Leckie

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Circle Series: Woman With Climb by ReVerse Butcher

Circle Series: Woman With Climb, ReVerse Butcher, Digital Drawing
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Microphone as Talisman, Poetic field recordings by Connor Orrico

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A Talisman for the Rivers of Eden By Zke

The following composition was inspired by the singular amulet included in this video/cover art and has survived since the seventeenth century. When Damien first came across an image of this amulet, he was transfixed by its story and beauty and knew that he had to find some way of making a ‘story’ about it. Damien hopes that it reflects his love for his Jewish and Daoist philosophy, Eastern and Western merged together. Rain, lakes, waterfalls, submerge into chaotic noise, along with the modern world of tornado sirens, childhood memories on the television, and typing essays before midnight during a rainstorm. The piece can go on as a loop, just as the amulet does so in of itself. We step into the forest to escape the modern word or record its beauty, so we don’t forget it when we’re back in our shell of a capitalistic hellhole. We put one foot back into the home and are submerged with technology, chores, activities, daily prayers, etc. Then there is both, the middle, the none. Somewhere among the noise, we hope that this piece, like a Talisman, gives you a glimmer of that mirror.

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Tarot in Pandemic, a series of poems by Joseph Ellison Brockway

Tarot in Pandemic – 28 March 2020

Sustain me today, Tarot, with

     your Ace of Cups.

To raise me out of the murky depths,

   she sent me a dove,

                and a chalice.

She held me, as one does the wind,

            futilely.

Continue reading “Tarot in Pandemic, a series of poems by Joseph Ellison Brockway”

OUTSIDE WORLD – A Multimedia Art Project by Noise Weaver

Small, childish hands of a small, childish body. And its childish legs stood on the ledge of a grey, concrete obelisk. Big, adult clothing was hung around and hugged its body. Slithered its hands and small, childish fingers out of the long, snake-like sleeve with two needles. Threw one over the ledge and punctured the young meat of its finger with the other. In from one and out from the other end. Sew the fabric of reality into itself.

It inhaled the measured, sonic existence of the concrete forest. After its hand came out when it reached into its pocket, the weird, long, white, plastic strand of earphones was hanging from its fingers and small, cute nails.

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CASKET FLARE – A Séance Recorded by Logan Berry

Three Poems by Juliet Cook

Museum of Impending Death

1

Trying to focus on what feels meaningful to me in this moment.

Trying not to let my own thoughts reside inside nothing but impending death.

Trying not to let my own thoughts reside inside this giant nihilistic

ever expanding sky filled with rising numbers of dead stars.

Brimming with stark contrasts, alternating currents

between freaked out, productive, freaked out,

creative, wondering if I’m going to die from this.

If I’m going to melt down inside this ongoing vortex.

Thousands of broken wings get sucked into numbers,

spiral down, crack into the ground, vanish.

Thunder in the sky sounds like gurgling blood,

getting closer until I shake and cover my ears.

Trying to place my own impending death inside another poem

filled with words instead of numbers. Cerulean blue instead of red.

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VAMPYR by Louis Armand – an excerpt from a novel-in-progress

For we cannot define everything & must begin somewhere. The atoms whirl about, a picture forms. A hole that is no longer bottomless, contemplation of which, carrying the first sky, falling(mouthless)upon the first watcher…

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Four Paintings by Pouya Haghani

Locale 2
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