Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 26
April 18, 2024
April 2024 Poetry Feature: New Metamorphoses
CARLIE HOFFMAN
I know it’s October because I wear / shoes without socks. The air is good / to me & I sweat less through my shirts. / Entire days of trees on campus, of stray geese / crowding the grass near the traffic / circle like groupies, as if / the honking cars were a rock band.
I know it’s October because I wear / shoes without socks. The air is good / to me & I sweat less through my shirts. / Entire days of trees on campus, of stray geese / crowding the grass near the traffic / circle like groupies, as if / the honking cars were a rock band.
April 17, 2024
Saturday
HANNAH JANSEN
At the laundromat the whir of machines, / whorled & busy, the pleasure & difficulty / of stillness Waiting, sockless, I aspire to be / the cross-legged woman reading a magazine, / settled into her corner of time I like her gray braid, / the way her skin sings.
At the laundromat the whir of machines, / whorled & busy, the pleasure & difficulty / of stillness Waiting, sockless, I aspire to be / the cross-legged woman reading a magazine, / settled into her corner of time I like her gray braid, / the way her skin sings.
April 10, 2024
Lightning Talk on I-90
ALI SHAPIRO
I was somewhere outside Rome when I saw the grief truck. Seriously? I said aloud, incredulous, to no one. Incredulous, and a little giddy: I couldn’t help but be delighted by signs, even bad ones; I wanted, more than any particular message, evidence of any message at all.
I was somewhere outside Rome when I saw the grief truck. Seriously? I said aloud, incredulous, to no one. Incredulous, and a little giddy: I couldn’t help but be delighted by signs, even bad ones; I wanted, more than any particular message, evidence of any message at all.
April 9, 2024
Dark Vader
ANNELL LÓPEZ
Last year, when she joined the dojo on Niagara Street, an older kid referred to her as Blackie Chan. Our mother refused to explain to her what it meant and instead allowed Junie to believe Blackie Chan was not only real, but so strong he could karate-chop cinder blocks in half.
Last year, when she joined the dojo on Niagara Street, an older kid referred to her as Blackie Chan. Our mother refused to explain to her what it meant and instead allowed Junie to believe Blackie Chan was not only real, but so strong he could karate-chop cinder blocks in half.
April 8, 2024
Writing into Negative Space (Absence): Tiana Nobile interviews Sarah Audsley
SARAH AUDSLEY
My intention is not for erasure, but for the variable X to stand in (or take up space) for all the unknowns, for what is undefinable, for the unsolvable. I wanted the book to have an “us” and a “we,” not just an “I.” Lately, I have been thinking about how healing—which I think is every day and on a continuum—happens in the collective.
My intention is not for erasure, but for the variable X to stand in (or take up space) for all the unknowns, for what is undefinable, for the unsolvable. I wanted the book to have an “us” and a “we,” not just an “I.” Lately, I have been thinking about how healing—which I think is every day and on a continuum—happens in the collective.
April 4, 2024
Translation: Poems from The Dickinson Archive
MARÍA NEGRONI
No—posthumous—inquiry will manage—never—to see what I wrote. What I lost each time—to / discover what a home is: stiff body inside the openness it has created. No one will know how / much I insisted, how much I demanded—and with no defenses.
No—posthumous—inquiry will manage—never—to see what I wrote. What I lost each time—to / discover what a home is: stiff body inside the openness it has created. No one will know how / much I insisted, how much I demanded—and with no defenses.
April 1, 2024
New Poems from YOU ARE HERE, edited by Ada Limón
ADAM CLAY
On / the Golden Record that’s out of the solar system / now, scientists deemed the sound of birds / important enough to include as a marker / of our planet. Listening this morning to a clip / of what someone or something might hear one day, / I can’t help but wonder if they’ll / even know what it is.
On / the Golden Record that’s out of the solar system / now, scientists deemed the sound of birds / important enough to include as a marker / of our planet. Listening this morning to a clip / of what someone or something might hear one day, / I can’t help but wonder if they’ll / even know what it is.
March 28, 2024
March 2024 Poetry Feature: New Poems by Our Contributors
MATT DONOVAN
On my flight to Nashville, after / telling me the Parthenon in his town was far better / than the one in Greece, the guy seated beside me / in the exit row swore that Athena was an absolute / can’t-miss must-see. Her eyes will see into your soul, / he said, no goddamn joke.
On my flight to Nashville, after / telling me the Parthenon in his town was far better / than the one in Greece, the guy seated beside me / in the exit row swore that Athena was an absolute / can’t-miss must-see. Her eyes will see into your soul, / he said, no goddamn joke.
March 26, 2024
The Common’s Issue 27 Launch Party
Free and open to the public, wine and snacks will be provided.
Join us for the launch of Issue 27 of The Common! We welcome essayist and AGNI editor Sven Birkerts, poet January Gill O'Neil, and fiction writer Jade Song. Issues will be available for purchase. We'll have brief readings, a short Q&A, and lots of time to mingle!
Join us for the launch of Issue 27 of The Common! We welcome essayist and AGNI editor Sven Birkerts, poet January Gill O'Neil, and fiction writer Jade Song. Issues will be available for purchase. We'll have brief readings, a short Q&A, and lots of time to mingle!
March 21, 2024
Applications are Open for The Common Young Writers Program!
Learn more about the program and how to apply here!
