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Rings – Jessica Sequeira

Rings

We hadn’t wanted to go out, had even considered changing our minds with a lateness sure to offend, in order to enjoy the cool inside of the house with its scent of fresh cedar, its hardworking fan. But we mustered the resources we had, slipped on our sandals and passed over the threshold. The invitation had been extended to us with such excitement that there was no choice but to attend, despite our prejudices against classical art and the theatre, here found in the same work. Continue reading “Rings – Jessica Sequeira” →

Whoever Wanders The Stratus Glow – Mark Grenon

Whoever Wanders The Stratus Glow

Whoever wanders the stratus glow
chased into niche or crevice
ascends the archives

A dervish’s shivers scan the heavens

A dervish’s scarves and sashes
canvass heaven’s veranda, invade screeds
for ice caverns, car crashes, narcs’ scars, Continue reading “Whoever Wanders The Stratus Glow – Mark Grenon” →

So Be It, Amen – Lucas Wildner

So Be It, Amen

We bow our heads before dinner.
He prays; I recite the German
with a hushed voice—
not out of reverence,
but to soften the inevitable slips
from my English-led tongue.

*

When five sat at this table
we held our hands
in front of us Continue reading “So Be It, Amen – Lucas Wildner” →

Divine Intervention – Elancharan Gunasekaran

Divine Intervention

Responding to bubble threat.
Vehicle loaded.
Strapped beneath plates.
Moving out.
Location verification required.

East on… static zzzzzzzz
Repeat. Command. Repeat. zzzzzzzzz
East on… static zzz
Cavalry to command: Continue reading “Divine Intervention – Elancharan Gunasekaran” →

Lost Sheep – Jeremy Mifsud

Lost Sheep

Churchgoers scan
my microchip;
they ask
if I’m lost,
if I’m a sheep astray.
They point towards your temple—
the one I’m running from.
I tread away Continue reading “Lost Sheep – Jeremy Mifsud” →

my god is – Paul Brookes

my god is

imperfect, a perfect image for me.
humbled by its mistakes.

my god is a mistake.
a wrong answer,

differently abled.
its winters often in spring.

its summers sometime in autumn. Continue reading “my god is – Paul Brookes” →

One More Lamb, No! This Is The Way It Starts, and Baptism Gone Awry – Elisabeth Horan

One More Lamb

Needles are helpful
In identifying can#$@

As well evilicious
Thoughts I have

Like my husband
Doesn’t love me
He won’t have my baby

Like God is temporary
When I need him Continue reading “One More Lamb, No! This Is The Way It Starts, and Baptism Gone Awry – Elisabeth Horan” →

The Baptism – Juliette van der Molen

The Baptism

Sister sings contrition, ripe to believe
in prophet palms, fey fingers. Submission
to a Patriarch plunge— yield and receive.

White out winter, naked lips and eyes. Leave
past sorrows traded for superstition.
Sister sings contrition, ripe to believe. Continue reading “The Baptism – Juliette van der Molen” →

Purgatorio, East Peoria – Todd Smith

Purgatorio, East Peoria

Again, the man in the window
wakes from a dream of June bugs:
fragile with heat, they’d thrown
their bodies into trees and split
like skulls. The man said he was
hungry. The sisters still arrive
some evenings with their Bibles
and a roll of toilet paper. Continue reading “Purgatorio, East Peoria – Todd Smith” →

Fearsong – Anna Kahn

Fearsong

If I try to sing from the silence thoughts of G-d come out sometimes
but I have never
worshipped and meant it.
Nobody has dared ask me to.
I’ve sung higher powers, let strangers
lick the metallic holy off the air around me,
it is sanctifying to make
a space for the devout to cry into,
but I have never
meant.                                                        Once down the pub Continue reading “Fearsong – Anna Kahn” →

“You Are The One God Forgot” by Michael Akuchie, and “Of Perception” by Casimir Wojciech

You Are The One God Forgot

God walks through us on lonely nights — Nome Patrick
before i name myself an island in bed,
far from shore, i carve my life inside a poem.
a letter in a bottle is how i commune with God,
walk him round the ruins of my heart,
have him wear this skin that has contained screams.
most times, i am a roadsign cars ignore, Continue reading ““You Are The One God Forgot” by Michael Akuchie, and “Of Perception” by Casimir Wojciech” →

Wishing to Believe by F. E. Clark

Wishing to Believe

In the shop of chimes and mysteries we chose the waving cat.
Maneki Neko—perfect, white plastic,
trimmed with gold and red, one paw raised to the sky.
On our kitchen windowsill, it sat—ushering
good luck in, bad luck out. So we believed.

It ticked like a clock as it waved, only,
it never made it right through a whole night—
slowing to a halt a few hours after sunset. Continue reading “Wishing to Believe by F. E. Clark” →

Irapada(redemption) – Aremu Adams Adebisi

IRAPADA
redemption

asake, pray for me.

i am your father’s grandfather,
you do not know me,
but you are the lines on my palms.
pray for me! pray for me!
those on earth pray for those in heaven
so those in heaven could set their passage.

pray for me, asake;
pray for my peace! Continue reading “Irapada(redemption) – Aremu Adams Adebisi” →

The Ocean’s Only Word, Getting Light, and Near Disaster – Lee Potts

The Ocean’s Only Word

During your Palm Springs summer,
your off-white apartment walls curved
around you like an elegant shell
pulled together tight by the bit of meat inside.

Eventually any distraction seemed a blessing.
Sometimes you appeared able to conjure
up some sound or other outside,
but never the one you wanted. Continue reading “The Ocean’s Only Word, Getting Light, and Near Disaster – Lee Potts” →

DOORS EDITION

DECEMBER 2018

GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY JAISHA JANSENA

Continue reading →

January 2019 Guest Editor Is BOLA OPALEKE!!! Theme/s: FAITH // FAITHLESSNESS // DIVINITY

Burning House Press are excited to welcome BOLA OPALEKE as our JANUARY 2019 guest editor! As of today Bola will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of January.

Submissions for Bola are open from today – 1st January and will remain open until 24th January. Continue reading “January 2019 Guest Editor Is BOLA OPALEKE!!! Theme/s: FAITH // FAITHLESSNESS // DIVINITY” →

GENDER & REVOLUTION EDITION – SELECTED/CURATED/PRESENTED BY OCTOBER 2018 GUEST EDITORS SHE SPEAKS UK

Aaand that’s a wrap! Burning House Press would like to thank October’s Guest Editors SHE SPEAKS UK for selecting, curating and presenting an INCREDIBLE array of writing and art on the theme/s GENDER & REVOLUTION – and for all of the endeavour and hard work that has gone into managing the month   – THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, EMERCIANA, AOIFE, & JO!!!

Massive thank you also goes to everyone who contributed to the theme/s and all who continue to send BHP your writing and art – we are so happy and grateful that you entrust us with your work, thank you!!! xX

Here it is, the full GENDER & REVOLUTION EDITION – every selection in one place for you to read/peruse – enjoy!!! xX Continue reading “GENDER & REVOLUTION EDITION – SELECTED/CURATED/PRESENTED BY OCTOBER 2018 GUEST EDITORS SHE SPEAKS UK” →

October 2018 Guest Editor/s are SHE SPEAKS UK!!! Theme/s: GENDER & REVOLUTION

Burning House Press are excited to welcome SHE SPEAKS UK as our October guest editors!!! As of today She Speaks will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of October.

Submissions for She Speaks are open from today – 1st October and will remain open until 24th.

She Speaks Theme/s for the month are as follows

 

GENDER & REVOLUTION

 

She Speaks have introduced their theme/s for your guidance:

 

Gender & Revolution

“If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.”

  • Audre Lorde

“No real social change has ever been brought about without a revolution… Revolution is but thought carried into action.”

  • Emma Goldman (Writer and Anarchist)

What does gender look like to you? If gender is a construct, how would you deconstruct it? If you could re-write or reframe gender norms, would you? What would your world look like? What changes, if any, would you like to see?

What does revolution look like? Why is it important and what changes are needed?

We want you to use words or images to investigate gender, revolution, or both. You could draw on personal experiences, historical / her-storical narratives, imagined environments or cultural commentary. We welcome voices that represent different worldviews, beliefs and geographical locations.

We want art that breaks rules; that challenges patriarchy; that expresses personal struggle; that exposes the impact of cultural norms. Don’t be afraid to break out of your comfort zone and push the boundaries.

We can’t wait to see your submissions.

Love,

She Speaks

x

Continue reading “October 2018 Guest Editor/s are SHE SPEAKS UK!!! Theme/s: GENDER & REVOLUTION” →

Exile, intensive care by Christina Tudor-Sideri

I am not from here. I am from somewhere in between push and pull. I am a thrust not yet experienced by what people usually call ‘home’. I am exiled. I am exile. I reside not in my consciousness, but in the lingering smell of last night’s cigarettes and rain drops. In the burning of pages. In the hunger for belonging, which I feed with matches, flames, and the ashes of what were once my journals, my essays on the flesh of the world, my notebooks, my manuscripts, my resolutions, my shopping lists, my thoughts on the nightstand. Exile. Soft, felt in my hands. Felt in yours. Grasping its shape, fingering its texture, sensing its temperature. Exile, mingled with memorabilia and all the angers of the world. I live with it as one lives with a strong sense of physical presence, something to cling to until I get better. Something to keep me going. Being a gesture, becoming an extension of its flesh. That’s what exile is to me. A grave. Luscious. Infinite. Sarcophagus of blessed souls. I am pulling you into the depths of it. Exile, exceptional euphemism. Continue reading “Exile, intensive care by Christina Tudor-Sideri” →

Three poems by Mingji Liu

Rewinds

Peel open and peek:

inside the flapping, lolling mouth
of our mother’s photo album.

laminated with a sticky-wash skin
in grainy, colour-locked glamours.

encircled as we are, backlit and gypsy-like,
upon the retina of her old kodak.

Leaf through and look:

at our mother’s postgrad bungalow,
and the cats she found and raised alone.

and here, in burnout red, our ex-brothers,
with their lucid, low alley guitars.

and these polaroids of nameless children,
in some backyard mummery we long forgot.

Browse, then burrow:

deep into this picture house novel,

framed by weddings. birthdays. sleepovers.
reunions. divorces. second-hand toyotas.
painted kitchens. political borders. the first dog we ever got.

Then her final photo. Book ends.
Snap shut.
The film roll clicks.
And our lives rewind again.

Continue reading “Three poems by Mingji Liu” →

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