Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 51
November 4, 2022
Podcast: Meera Nair on “The Desire Tree”
MEERA NAIR
I'm a little obsessed with trees. I've always had a weird kind of attachment to them. I grew up with them all around me, because I used to go home to Kerala, where my family is from in India, and we have a big farm and a mango grove.
I'm a little obsessed with trees. I've always had a weird kind of attachment to them. I grew up with them all around me, because I used to go home to Kerala, where my family is from in India, and we have a big farm and a mango grove.
October 31, 2022
Homeless
HUSSAIN AHMED
Where do the birds hide when it snowed? / I have many questions, but I can only ask my reflection / From the mirror, anytime I wash my face / Before another salaat. / Each time, this is what it means to be in khalwa. / You whisper names you know Allah bears.
Where do the birds hide when it snowed? / I have many questions, but I can only ask my reflection / From the mirror, anytime I wash my face / Before another salaat. / Each time, this is what it means to be in khalwa. / You whisper names you know Allah bears.
Perfect Storms
ALEXANDRA TEAGUE
My mother and I are on a chlorinated river that’s simultaneously the Amazon, Congo, and Nile, floating languidly so we don’t run into the boat in front of us and “don’t scare the wildlife”: the kind of joke the Disney guide, in his safari hat, keeps making.
My mother and I are on a chlorinated river that’s simultaneously the Amazon, Congo, and Nile, floating languidly so we don’t run into the boat in front of us and “don’t scare the wildlife”: the kind of joke the Disney guide, in his safari hat, keeps making.
All We Are Given We Cannot Hold
ROBERT FANNING
Whirling axis, spine of a spinning top. Love / between us all maybe and blush. Night we press / against us, secret we caress, word we write in steam we breathe on glass. What we let fly from our fingers, / love between us. String we find to weave a world.
Whirling axis, spine of a spinning top. Love / between us all maybe and blush. Night we press / against us, secret we caress, word we write in steam we breathe on glass. What we let fly from our fingers, / love between us. String we find to weave a world.
Operation Avalanche
ROSSELLA MILONE
It must have been hard for him. She’d always been a bit quirky and old age had only intensified her eccentricities. The desire to be alone. To dance the Charleston. To forget the names of people and things. She called everyone by her deceased husband’s name.
It must have been hard for him. She’d always been a bit quirky and old age had only intensified her eccentricities. The desire to be alone. To dance the Charleston. To forget the names of people and things. She called everyone by her deceased husband’s name.
Which One is the Lifeline?
ALEXIS M. WRIGHT
Two Black women, two White cops. The cops have come to collect the details for the report, but I’m doing most of the talking. Grammy bears witness. Alpha Cop asks, “How did she get your Social Security number?” I indignantly answer, “She’s my mother..."
Two Black women, two White cops. The cops have come to collect the details for the report, but I’m doing most of the talking. Grammy bears witness. Alpha Cop asks, “How did she get your Social Security number?” I indignantly answer, “She’s my mother..."
Reading the Ashes
ROBIN LEE CARLSON
I’ve stepped off the trail to peer at a gaping hole where a tree once stood. Nearby there are charred tree trunks, hollowed out by fire, but they are still standing, pointing blackened fingers into the fierce blue above. This tree is completely gone, vaporized—leaves, branches, trunk...
I’ve stepped off the trail to peer at a gaping hole where a tree once stood. Nearby there are charred tree trunks, hollowed out by fire, but they are still standing, pointing blackened fingers into the fierce blue above. This tree is completely gone, vaporized—leaves, branches, trunk...
Ode to Powerline
DARIUS SIMPSON
you, thrust open leather vest glisten chest in the desert / you, both knee beggin in silver pants plus rain / you, break a lover wide to see what lyrics may flow / chorus basically a moan stretched out the measure / of a messy long distance relationship run its course
you, thrust open leather vest glisten chest in the desert / you, both knee beggin in silver pants plus rain / you, break a lover wide to see what lyrics may flow / chorus basically a moan stretched out the measure / of a messy long distance relationship run its course
The Desire Tree
MEERA NAIR
I imagine the tree’s hanging roots and its giant trunk as conduits, which, along with its rising sap and the susurration of its leaves, convey the deepest longings and the secret stories of its devotees, all that clamorous human need, up to the silent gods hoping they are out there in the ether.
I imagine the tree’s hanging roots and its giant trunk as conduits, which, along with its rising sap and the susurration of its leaves, convey the deepest longings and the secret stories of its devotees, all that clamorous human need, up to the silent gods hoping they are out there in the ether.
[ Heart Fragments ]
JOSEPH O. LEGASPI
As a boy I loved pink, the insides of my cheeks where I stored laughter. My tonsil was a bell, churchly. Chimed pinkly every hour. Pink was the Paschal moon, closest to earth on Easter weekend. Jesus hatched from a pastel egg as a bunny with a burning heart, pinker than a flamboyance.
As a boy I loved pink, the insides of my cheeks where I stored laughter. My tonsil was a bell, churchly. Chimed pinkly every hour. Pink was the Paschal moon, closest to earth on Easter weekend. Jesus hatched from a pastel egg as a bunny with a burning heart, pinker than a flamboyance.
