Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 41
May 15, 2023
Sentences Worth Keeping: Melody Nixon Interviews Sara Freeman
SARA FREEMAN
I was certainly interested in exploring the liminal spaces Mara inhabits (the seaside setting, the bar, hostel, and marina) and its workers and inhabitants, while also staying true to the protagonist’s more internal preoccupations: the recursive, often claustrophobic space of her mind.
I was certainly interested in exploring the liminal spaces Mara inhabits (the seaside setting, the bar, hostel, and marina) and its workers and inhabitants, while also staying true to the protagonist’s more internal preoccupations: the recursive, often claustrophobic space of her mind.
May 8, 2023
On Wariness
MYRONN HARDY
There is rhythm on the pavement. / There is rhythm in small / apartment rooms. / I’m over slicing tomatoes. / I’m over drinking wine. / I’m performing as not to be / deformed as not / to show what I shouldn’t. / I don’t want to feel everything.
There is rhythm on the pavement. / There is rhythm in small / apartment rooms. / I’m over slicing tomatoes. / I’m over drinking wine. / I’m performing as not to be / deformed as not / to show what I shouldn’t. / I don’t want to feel everything.
The Library
NASSER AL-DHAFIRI
When my friends and I left the homeland, my second departure from Kuwait, there were five of us and ten suitcases. I knew exactly what was in each bag, just as I knew the pain and angst of the five travelers heading toward the unknown.
When my friends and I left the homeland, my second departure from Kuwait, there were five of us and ten suitcases. I knew exactly what was in each bag, just as I knew the pain and angst of the five travelers heading toward the unknown.
Nina and Frida Enter the Chat
FELICE BELLE
these biddies with their deadbolt backs/ take naps / while i construct/ canvas from corset cast / art does not wait until you are well / what they did not understand—the training was classical / chopin, motherfuckers/ carry on like she some backwater bluesy /
least common denominator
these biddies with their deadbolt backs/ take naps / while i construct/ canvas from corset cast / art does not wait until you are well / what they did not understand—the training was classical / chopin, motherfuckers/ carry on like she some backwater bluesy /
least common denominator
Ramadan in Saint-Denis
ALA FOX
It is Ramadan in Saint-Denis, the banlieue north of Paris. It is almost 21:00h on a June Sunday, and the sun hangs a hazy orange in the sky. The elevator in Amir’s building is broken so we climb the six stories, past the floors of muffled French Arabic and children’s screams.
It is Ramadan in Saint-Denis, the banlieue north of Paris. It is almost 21:00h on a June Sunday, and the sun hangs a hazy orange in the sky. The elevator in Amir’s building is broken so we climb the six stories, past the floors of muffled French Arabic and children’s screams.
Aphorism 57: You Cannot Fail at Being You
JOHN BLAIR
We cherish ourselves even to the bones / which like some mother’s rigid hangers / hold us to our lacquered shapes in the smug / dialetheia of am and briefly was until /
we come to our raveled ends everyone /
just taking up space until space takes us back
We cherish ourselves even to the bones / which like some mother’s rigid hangers / hold us to our lacquered shapes in the smug / dialetheia of am and briefly was until /
we come to our raveled ends everyone /
just taking up space until space takes us back
From A Distance, He Approaches
KHALID AL-NASRALLAH
Barefoot. I don’t know how we did it. Around noon on those April days, my father would do his best to stop me from going out. After lunch, he’d stomp around the house locking all the doors: the kitchen, the front door, the back door, the main living room.
Barefoot. I don’t know how we did it. Around noon on those April days, my father would do his best to stop me from going out. After lunch, he’d stomp around the house locking all the doors: the kitchen, the front door, the back door, the main living room.
For Acedia
ROBERT CORDING
Thomas Aquinas prescribed fervent prayer, / and I do pray, but, oddly, a bird has been / my best medicine when I find myself shrunken / and absent, as I do each year as the anniversary / of my son’s death approaches. And so I turn again / to this: a dipper
Thomas Aquinas prescribed fervent prayer, / and I do pray, but, oddly, a bird has been / my best medicine when I find myself shrunken / and absent, as I do each year as the anniversary / of my son’s death approaches. And so I turn again / to this: a dipper
Albatross
ANNA BADKHEN
Aunt Lyuba was a spinster who had no family, which to us girls meant that she loved no one, and she was what we had after Mama died. Mama had loved a lot. First she loved Natasha’s father, then mine. After my father left, she loved communism. Its collapse crushed her.
Aunt Lyuba was a spinster who had no family, which to us girls meant that she loved no one, and she was what we had after Mama died. Mama had loved a lot. First she loved Natasha’s father, then mine. After my father left, she loved communism. Its collapse crushed her.
The Kitchen
ESTABRAQ AHMAD
In a departure from daily routine, she went on an angry, blabbering rampage, hurling her son’s glass pill bottles into my lap, smashing cups and plates, and turning on the faucet. Water and bits of glass floated everywhere—oh, my, I got so dizzy and regurgitated the larger pieces.
In a departure from daily routine, she went on an angry, blabbering rampage, hurling her son’s glass pill bottles into my lap, smashing cups and plates, and turning on the faucet. Water and bits of glass floated everywhere—oh, my, I got so dizzy and regurgitated the larger pieces.
