Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 110
October 3, 2019
Not a Word Among Us
David Meischen
The walk to the outhouse was some thirty yards—across the bare back yard, past a fishpond filled in with sand after a turkey had drowned there, and through a gate at the garden fence—to a little unpainted hut behind two salt cedar trees. It was quiet inside, the murk tempered by sun slanting in between weathered boards.
The walk to the outhouse was some thirty yards—across the bare back yard, past a fishpond filled in with sand after a turkey had drowned there, and through a gate at the garden fence—to a little unpainted hut behind two salt cedar trees. It was quiet inside, the murk tempered by sun slanting in between weathered boards.
October 2, 2019
Review: Rewriting the Body
Meg Kearney
What does it mean to “rewrite the body?” To dive deeply and lose ourselves in Wyatt Townley’s fourth book of poems, we must think of “body” as physical human frame; body as door, as house; body as a lifetime’s work, needing to be revised, re-visioned, reclaimed.
What does it mean to “rewrite the body?” To dive deeply and lose ourselves in Wyatt Townley’s fourth book of poems, we must think of “body” as physical human frame; body as door, as house; body as a lifetime’s work, needing to be revised, re-visioned, reclaimed.
September 30, 2019
I Am the Fire Starter: an Interview with Haidar Haidar
HAIDAR HAIDAR
I lost any chance of winning awards because of the unjust campaign launched by Islamists against A Feast for The Seaweeds in 2000 after it was printed in Egypt, then burned by fanatics who led demonstrations against the novel and accused me of heresy. This might be a rare incidence of an Arab novel capable of stirring street manifestations even if only for its confiscation.
I lost any chance of winning awards because of the unjust campaign launched by Islamists against A Feast for The Seaweeds in 2000 after it was printed in Egypt, then burned by fanatics who led demonstrations against the novel and accused me of heresy. This might be a rare incidence of an Arab novel capable of stirring street manifestations even if only for its confiscation.
September 27, 2019
September 2019 Poetry Feature: From CROWN DECLINE
DON SHARE and JOHN KINSELLA
Misophonia
Is almost a metaphor
For these sad, sore times.
Which doesn't mean I've lost faith —
Only some of my hearing.
Misophonia
Is almost a metaphor
For these sad, sore times.
Which doesn't mean I've lost faith —
Only some of my hearing.
September 26, 2019
Ask a Local: Aimée Baker, Plattsburgh, New York
AIMÉE BAKER
Plattsburgh borders Lake Champlain, one of the bigger lakes in the United States at 120 miles long and 12 miles wide. It’s so deep and large we have stories of our own lake monster, known affectionately as Champy, living in it. There’s no bridge from our city to neighboring Vermont, so travel across the lake is done by ferry.
Plattsburgh borders Lake Champlain, one of the bigger lakes in the United States at 120 miles long and 12 miles wide. It’s so deep and large we have stories of our own lake monster, known affectionately as Champy, living in it. There’s no bridge from our city to neighboring Vermont, so travel across the lake is done by ferry.
September 25, 2019
A Secret Story
ELLIE BOZMAROVA
“There’s something doctors won’t acknowledge and won’t treat,” my grandmother says during our afternoon coffee. I’m visiting for the summer. These few months are the longest I’ve been in Bulgaria since my parents and I left for California in the early 90s.
“There’s something doctors won’t acknowledge and won’t treat,” my grandmother says during our afternoon coffee. I’m visiting for the summer. These few months are the longest I’ve been in Bulgaria since my parents and I left for California in the early 90s.
September 20, 2019
Margin of Error
COURTNEY ZOFFNESS
The night my colleagues and I sat around the bistro table and stockpiled our grief—I couldn’t get out of bed, said one; I cried to strangers, replied another—the night we compared the protests we’d attended and petitions we’d signed and officials we’d called…
The night my colleagues and I sat around the bistro table and stockpiled our grief—I couldn’t get out of bed, said one; I cried to strangers, replied another—the night we compared the protests we’d attended and petitions we’d signed and officials we’d called…
Forty-Four Thousand Pounds
EMMA COPLEY EISENBERG
She wants one person in this... city to hear how, after the highway patrol came, and a small crane was towed in to remove the coil... how much harder it was for Dude to drive the Freightliner back to West Virginia than it had been for him to drive it across Tennessee.
She wants one person in this... city to hear how, after the highway patrol came, and a small crane was towed in to remove the coil... how much harder it was for Dude to drive the Freightliner back to West Virginia than it had been for him to drive it across Tennessee.
September 18, 2019
Poetry by Isabel Zapata in Translation
ISABEL ZAPATA
"Reasons Not to Step on Snails"
Because they’re both male and female at once. / Because their shells grow with them. / Because Apicius cooked them with fermented fish guts. / Because their slime erases wrinkles. / Because they take three hours to mate.
"Reasons Not to Step on Snails"
Because they’re both male and female at once. / Because their shells grow with them. / Because Apicius cooked them with fermented fish guts. / Because their slime erases wrinkles. / Because they take three hours to mate.
September 11, 2019
From “CORRIDO”
ALFREDO AGUILAR
Before the uproar in California about undocumented immigrants— / Before miles of border, that included the park, became militarized— / Only a simple barbed wire fence separated the two countries— / And anyone could meet there under the watch of the Border Patrol. / But I do know that every Sunday near noon a mass is held there.
Before the uproar in California about undocumented immigrants— / Before miles of border, that included the park, became militarized— / Only a simple barbed wire fence separated the two countries— / And anyone could meet there under the watch of the Border Patrol. / But I do know that every Sunday near noon a mass is held there.
