Moonlight Part 2
The moonlit hills, silvery sentinels
guarding the silent
desert. The jagged
mine mouth, a black
hole into twilight
Tim’s voice changed,
When I hurt
my hand in the mine, something
remarkable got under
my skin something
begun to change
me for better
I know it is connected to a great plan
set in motion billions years
ago out among stars
there is substance in this mine
allows a human change from mortal into a god
I am being transformed
into a creature of the universe
What do you think?
I think you need to go back to the hospital
This is a found poem. Source: Pike, Christopher. Hollow Skull. Hodder, 1998. Page 75
She has grown great
your own sake
head slurped back
she saw stars grin
This is a found poem. Source: Pike, Christopher. Hollow Skull. Hoddler, 1998. Page 76.
Originally from the hilly corner of Ohio, Mark Allen Jenkins’s poetry has appeared in Memorious, minnesota review, South Dakota Review, Every River on Earth: Writing from Appalachian Ohio, and Gargoyle. He recently completed a PhD in Humanities from the University of Texas at Dallas and currently teaches in Houston.
Burning House Press are excited to welcome Mauve Perle Tahat as our NOVEMBER 2019 guest editor! As of today MAUVE will take over editorship of Burning House Press online for the full month of NOVEMBER.
Submissions are open from today – 1st NOVEMBER and will remain open until 23RD NOVEMBER.
MAUVE‘S theme/s for the month are as follows
NO MACHINE WITHOUT A GHOSTContinue reading “NOVEMBER 2019 Guest Editor Is MAUVE PERLE TAHAT!!! Theme: NO MACHINE WITHOUT A GHOST”
SIGNALLING THROUGH THE FLAMES EDITION OCTOBER 2019 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY Johannes GöranssonContinue reading “SIGNALLING THROUGH THE FLAMES EDITION OCTOBER 2019 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY Johannes Göransson”
Main Street Mamas: Stay Safe, Beauty Continue reading “Main Street Mamas: Stay Safe, Beauty by Anne Lesley Selcer”
VOICES EDITION AUGUST 2019 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY JAMES KNIGHTContinue reading “VOICES EDITION AUGUST 2019 GUEST EDITED/CURATED BY JAMES KNIGHT”
Burning House Press are excited to welcome LAURA JOYCE & JODIE KIM as our JUNE 2019 guest editors! As of today LAURA & JODIE 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.
LAURA & JODIE’S theme/s for the month are as follows
Hex is a collaborative project between writers Laura Joyce and Jodie Kim. This guest editorship will be part of our larger project to collect and archive hexes. Laura and Jodie invite hexes against all forms of power, but especially seek hexes that relate to instances of intimate, gendered, or sexual violence.
“We see the function of the hex as a means to crystallise anger, fear, and outrage into a powerful moment of ritual. We encourage the use of forms often considered middlebrow or trashy i.e. true crime, confessional, occult, paranormal, melodrama. We also encourage spells, incantations, recipes, case studies, research notes, curses. We propose hexes to be in any language and in any form including: writing, visual art, performance transcripts, selfies, curation of found materials etc.”
BY BOLA OPALEKE
Our Photo artist for the month, Amanda Ollinik, supplied almost all the featured photos used(except for two or three). She is as prolific as our poetry/fiction contributors, and very well take her talent seriously. We are grateful to her and her partner, Lydia, for making the month as photogenic as it can be. Continue reading “Featured Photo Artist – Amanda Ollinik”
The Artisan’s Defense
He’d blame the desert if they ever found him. Golden sunsets were wasted on him, made his eyes dry, clouded his mind. He saw no signs in the horizon, no maps to promised lands. The desert was for prophets, men without a trade, who could do nothing but lift their clumsy hands to the sky and then coil upon the ground, savoring their shortcomings before G-d. Continue reading “The Artisan’s Defense – Hege Jakobsen Lepri”
Lend me your ears; I am telling you stories. My cave is empty. I have nothing else to give. There is a mountain in Norway called the Storebalak, where, in March of ’86, an avalanche ate 16 soldiers. This is known as the Vassdalen Incident. Consider the number 16. Consider the numbered dead. This was of 31 of them. Consider the avalanche merciful. Consider I am telling you facts now. Let it be known this is a history. Who Continue reading “Water Witching – Jamie Hood”
Faith Is An Egg With A Thin Shell
Faith is a word I hold in my hand, safe in my palm, enclosed by the nest of my upturned fingers. Take faith to the lips: said, spoken, delivered, a birth of song spills from a secret mouth. If you speak faith, the five letters advance with an F, stridently like a French ‘fanfare’, a lawless, troubadour’s marching band. Then the word melts in the wind of aaaith, an elongated, rushing sound. Faith closes with the delicateness of th. Place the tongue, feather-light, by the teeth. Faith, faith, faith.
Rilke said, “Have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you Continue reading “Faith Is An Egg With A Thin Shell – Susanna Crossman”
Joshua Palmer is an artist and writer pursuing an MFA at the University of Pittsburgh, but he is from Texas the way windmills, dirt, and Dairy Queens are from Texas. He is currently doing research for a manuscript about a gay bathhouse fire. His poetry has appeared in SPF LIT MAG, Spectrum Culture, and Popula (forthcoming). You can follow him on twitter @gummybrzpalmer.
Featured photo credit: Amanda Ollinik @Allunderonemoon
Tape tacked on a lamp
Post. “I” spray-painted
On someone’s lawn.
A raised book casting
A shadow on the pulpit.
Perplexed by flyer, home-
Owner, priest. Continue reading “1. Mark Making 2. Mistaking the Parts for the Whole 3. Point of View – Elisa Taber”
Lucidity At The Edge Of The Abyss
his father brought him to me in his arms and i said
“forget those doctors my friend take this clay in your hand and your hand
will move again”
and it did (his hand did move again) (doctors said there was no chance) (what force gave me the nerve to say)(same force that gives me this day cancer leaping through this body as it is all laws pale to insignificance)
death is my friend take me any time says i Continue reading “1. Lucidity At The Edge Of The Abyss 2. Afterlife Of Battered – Bobbi Lurie”
Preachers On The Street
the thing is
they have guts enough
to believe in something.
to go that far;
standing on a streetcorner
screaming at strangers. Continue reading “1. Preachers On The Street, and 2. Burning In Crowded Places – DS Maolalai”
Music Number Four: Talus Deposits
When grandmother died, mother turned off the lights. From a high rise I see across harbours. Veins on your nose. A snapped rose.
This is a scree.
The roads are filled with transistor radios. Playing Springsteen songs. Here comes the night: American neo-troubadour melodies.
the funeral, of course, took place after Friday night Sabbath. Continue reading “Music Number Four: Talus Deposits – Robert Frederic Kenter”
Martin and the Sea
Dusk had fallen long ago and a cold biting sea breeze was humming a sweet melody as the sea waves crashed on the formidable sea wall of Georgetown. It was almost pitching dark. Martin sat on the sea wall looking at the incoming waves laughing under the yellow tail of the moon hidden behind a dark curtain of clouds. He walked slowly on the broad edges of the wall, watching little boys hauling a seine along the shallow shore line. White egrets nibbled at shrimps in the salty mud holes on the broken mud flats, lovers passed by holding hands in the thin whisper of rain. He kept a lonely vigil on the Continue reading “Martin and the Sea – Gideon Cecil”
It is winter, suddenly, and Agnete is stuck inside her cottage. She is running out of preserves. She is bored. Sometimes Agnete wishes her husband would return, but alas, he is locked away. He may even be dead. Most of the time she is glad to be rid of him and his sharp teeth and breath like rotted wood. The snowfall came as a surprise. It is only the third week of September, after all. The white blanket has obscured her captor, and Agnete does not know the protocol of escaping a fairy ring one cannot see. Continue reading “Quiet Wife – Erin Vance”