Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 42
May 8, 2023
Grace’s Folly
JAKE LANCASTER
I bring a Thermos full of hot chocolate mixed with a few shots of Rumple Minz, stale donut holes from Village Foods, and sometimes an uplifting book about how to live a better life that I always end up losing before I can give it back to my sister, Deena.
I bring a Thermos full of hot chocolate mixed with a few shots of Rumple Minz, stale donut holes from Village Foods, and sometimes an uplifting book about how to live a better life that I always end up losing before I can give it back to my sister, Deena.
Jack Benny
MITCH SISSKIND
John Ashbery called me after he died / So you can imagine my excitement / When in his droll hyper-nasalated / Timbre quite undiminished by death / He chatted on about the bowls of / Pitted cherries provided as snack-food / In the upper worlds and of afternoons / Climbing trees
John Ashbery called me after he died / So you can imagine my excitement / When in his droll hyper-nasalated / Timbre quite undiminished by death / He chatted on about the bowls of / Pitted cherries provided as snack-food / In the upper worlds and of afternoons / Climbing trees
A Minor History of Potato Chips
TINA CANE
Ray Liotta was listening to tapes of Henry Hill talking through a mouth / full of potato chips to the FBI around the same time I high and hunched / over a bowl of Lucky Charms was listening to my father. lecture me on sex / at 2 o’clock in the morning home early from his shift
Ray Liotta was listening to tapes of Henry Hill talking through a mouth / full of potato chips to the FBI around the same time I high and hunched / over a bowl of Lucky Charms was listening to my father. lecture me on sex / at 2 o’clock in the morning home early from his shift
The Story of a Box
JEFFREY HARRISON
I often thought of Teeny and Aggie during this project. Though I never attended a séance to make contact with them, I did have a dream in which I found a letter Teeny had written to Marcel after his death, but I couldn’t remember what it said when I woke up.
I often thought of Teeny and Aggie during this project. Though I never attended a séance to make contact with them, I did have a dream in which I found a letter Teeny had written to Marcel after his death, but I couldn’t remember what it said when I woke up.
Body
SULAIMAN AL-SHATTI
Whenever she spoke, my mother habitually turned down her upper lip and clenched her teeth as if to control the flow of her words—filtering them, if you will. Her teeth were white and strong; they were free of blemishes, except for the three that had been chipped.
Whenever she spoke, my mother habitually turned down her upper lip and clenched her teeth as if to control the flow of her words—filtering them, if you will. Her teeth were white and strong; they were free of blemishes, except for the three that had been chipped.
Night of the Mermaid
BASSAM ALMUSALLAM
A silver sea cascades from the full moon, enveloping the night. The moonlight inundating the neighborhood spills through the porthole and caresses her face. She’s asleep next to me. I move closer. The wall’s shadow slams my face. It lifts its black lids and a hundred red eyes stream out.
A silver sea cascades from the full moon, enveloping the night. The moonlight inundating the neighborhood spills through the porthole and caresses her face. She’s asleep next to me. I move closer. The wall’s shadow slams my face. It lifts its black lids and a hundred red eyes stream out.
After the Last Calorie of the Apocalypse / Prayer for the Clinically Obese
OMOTARA JAMES
On the last day, let there be a fat inhalation / of delight between the lap of our sunrise. // As the tongue separates the doubt from the cream, / let pleasure sift through the metal strainer of time. Only // hours now. Waiting for the thin people in my life to die, / I read a magazine, have sex, smoke a cigarette
On the last day, let there be a fat inhalation / of delight between the lap of our sunrise. // As the tongue separates the doubt from the cream, / let pleasure sift through the metal strainer of time. Only // hours now. Waiting for the thin people in my life to die, / I read a magazine, have sex, smoke a cigarette
Berber Perfumes
HOODA SHAWA QADDUMI
They say that, sometime at the end of the nineteenth century, a woman came on a wooden ship from Najd, married a wealthy man from the island, and, when she didn’t conceive, had a maqam built on the ruins of a pagan temple near the cliffs of the shore.
They say that, sometime at the end of the nineteenth century, a woman came on a wooden ship from Najd, married a wealthy man from the island, and, when she didn’t conceive, had a maqam built on the ruins of a pagan temple near the cliffs of the shore.
Contemporary Art Platform: Selections from Kuwait
CONTEMPORARY ART PLATFORM
is a nonprofit organization founded in 2011, dedicated to developing and supporting the arts in Kuwait and throughout the region. The art gallery has presented exhibitions of local, international, emerging, and established artists through collective and thematic shows curated by Arab and international curators.
is a nonprofit organization founded in 2011, dedicated to developing and supporting the arts in Kuwait and throughout the region. The art gallery has presented exhibitions of local, international, emerging, and established artists through collective and thematic shows curated by Arab and international curators.
Walden
STEPHEN HAVEN
Whatever Walden is to me—we swam there two Julys— / I hope to skirt that never-ending trope, / Drowning like a pilgrim in that pond.
Whatever Walden is to me—we swam there two Julys— / I hope to skirt that never-ending trope, / Drowning like a pilgrim in that pond.
