November 14th, 2020
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.
P R E F A C E
Some time ago, poet & astrologer Sarah Fox and I – following a reading by poet & astrologer Sun Yung Shin – (gosh, there are a lot of them!) – got into a discussion regarding cusps.
According to Fox, they don’t exist. Born edging the terminus of a sign, one has essentially experienced the full qualities of said sign, travelled deeper into the mysteries of that sign, knowing and intuiting the murkier substrata, the finer attunements, performed excavations unto the core of what it is to have been born within those stars, the lessons learned there taken in as something total and foundational.
This got me thinking. Born at the tail end of Scorpio, what does it mean to be so fucking Scorpio..??
Well, if you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you. .. (Just kidding.)
Burning House Press are excited to welcome JOAN POPE as our MARCH 2020 guest editor! As of today JOAN will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of MARCH.
Submissions are open from today – 1st MARCH and will remain open until 24TH MARCH.
Joan‘s theme for the month is as follows
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 