Submissions to Burning House press are still open – keep sending us your poems stories art non-fiction photography etc upon the wild wild wing xx https://burninghousepress.com/submissions/
The Bridal Suite
After eleven years she wondered suddenly at the silence. Once there were so many words to fit into the hour before sleep and now barely a syllable was uttered. The silken pull of the eiderdown over the blanket whispered: You are lost to me, lost to me. Continue reading “2 Poems by Kathryn Hummel”
Traveller’s Stones
Now I am a lake,
opaque in depth and silence
the ground unreachable
toes dip in my legends
and recoil at the truth of my temperature.
Tell Me More Lies, The List Is Growing
In tribute to Adrian Mitchell (Based on his poem ‘Tell Me Lies About Vietnam)
As a child, I was always kept safe,
Though I thought I understood pain.
So hold my hand across the road,
Tell me lies
About Libya.
Continue reading “‘Tell Me More Lies, The List Is Growing’ by Kirstin Maguire”
DECONSTRUCTION XLII
all words used in this poem taken from lyrics to the album Document #8 by Pg.99
my darling mistake / must I speak of you
only / as a wound? A ghost? // a whisper,
Home Sick
Raggedy Ann bed sheets cover
my aching body, smother
moans of malady.
I call to you.
SUBMISSIONS ARE OPEN TO BURNING HOUSE PRESS ON-LINE PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD AND SUBMIT YOUR WORK TO US NOW
“We do this [write] because the world we live in is a house on fire and the people we love are burning in it” – Sandra Cisneros
Let us say that the house is on fire and you can only take one thing with you. So you take the fire. Burning House Press is the fire you take with you. On the night of the great fire Burning House Press escaped the crackhouse and crawled into the arthouse. Burning House Press never forgot. Burning House Press speaks from the side of its mouth, all aorta aria, loudhailer lung-song. Burning House Press is the steel spine in the feral ones. Burning House Press has one leg up one leg down on its tracksuit bottoms. Burning House Press cradles a butterfly in one hand and holds a butterfly-knife in the other. Burning House Press is the scallywag intelligentsia, the council estate oracle. Burning House Press is the Blakean grain of sand that Satan cannot find. Burning House Press portrays a crow’s cadence, is courageous enough to be mystic in these days of the septic tepid optic. Burning House Press is both concrete and quotidian and conflagration vision. Burning House Press is too verbose for the stage too vandal for the page. Burning House Press is born bookworm and baudville hooligan, voodoo and vindication. Burning House Press crawled for a thousand years on hands and knees over broken glass and molten-tarmac, just to tell you a poem. Burning House Press remembers the path to the water-well, as well as the way to the ward, and we sing them both.
Submissions To Burning House Press and The Arsonist Magazine Opening Soon
https://burninghousepress.com/
artwork by badpoem
We shall be opening submissions for the first print edition of The Arsonist magazine soon. With a focus on poetry, prose, photography, collage, comment, cinema, painting, politics, prophecy, premonition, asphalt dahlias, urban heartbreak, metropolitan colonialism and its resistance, Tourette’s syndrome and pyromania and the ways in which they intersect. Once open, submissions for work to be featured on the Burning House Press website will be ongoing. Check back for details.
