Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 80
April 26, 2021
Our Day in Peredelkino
MARTHA COOLEY
At any rate, although neither of us was skittish about talking, we couldn’t seem to find common verbal ground, and our conversations had grown increasingly fraught. My husband wanted a kid; I wanted to want one, which wasn’t the same thing.
At any rate, although neither of us was skittish about talking, we couldn’t seem to find common verbal ground, and our conversations had grown increasingly fraught. My husband wanted a kid; I wanted to want one, which wasn’t the same thing.
First
KEITH LEONARD
I fell in love and became like those men in Plato’s Republic / who heard music for the first time and began singing, / and sang beyond reason, beyond dinner, beyond sleep, / and even died without noticing it, without wavering. / Thank you for ferocity, for our being beyond reason, / for the incendiary marvel of us.
I fell in love and became like those men in Plato’s Republic / who heard music for the first time and began singing, / and sang beyond reason, beyond dinner, beyond sleep, / and even died without noticing it, without wavering. / Thank you for ferocity, for our being beyond reason, / for the incendiary marvel of us.
Ode to a California Neck Tattoo
JOSE HERNANDEZ DIAZ
A man in a Chicano Batman shirt got a tattoo of the state of California on his neck. He rode his longboard to the tattoo parlor early in the morning. This was going to be his third tattoo. He also had a tattoo of palm trees on his chest and a skeleton on a surfboard on his calf.
A man in a Chicano Batman shirt got a tattoo of the state of California on his neck. He rode his longboard to the tattoo parlor early in the morning. This was going to be his third tattoo. He also had a tattoo of palm trees on his chest and a skeleton on a surfboard on his calf.
Lobster Trap
GARY J. WHITEHEAD
Then our hearts grew claws / and we lived in a cold reach, / twice-a-day tides, / the lows and the highs, / and we were drawn to our desires / salted and seeping from a bag. / What we thought was happiness /
was set and tied and marked /
in a rocking up above us, /
one end a buoy, /
colored and numbered, /
the other end a cage.
Then our hearts grew claws / and we lived in a cold reach, / twice-a-day tides, / the lows and the highs, / and we were drawn to our desires / salted and seeping from a bag. / What we thought was happiness /
was set and tied and marked /
in a rocking up above us, /
one end a buoy, /
colored and numbered, /
the other end a cage.
Sundown, Looking at My Estranged Cousin’s High School Yearbook Picture and All the Damage Done
CARLIE HOFFMAN
No moon tonight but the white bells of a woman’s / eyes squinting tacitly toward a camera, staring out // from the glossy page of a high school yearbook / on a spring evening that stings...
No moon tonight but the white bells of a woman’s / eyes squinting tacitly toward a camera, staring out // from the glossy page of a high school yearbook / on a spring evening that stings...
The Five-Room Box
RAVI SHANKAR
Tomorrow is Amma’s seventieth birthday, and I’m wondering what to buy her. She’s told me that the only thing she wants from her children is a new toilet seat, a pair of sensible black shoes, or a replacement floormat for her decade-old Honda Civic.
Tomorrow is Amma’s seventieth birthday, and I’m wondering what to buy her. She’s told me that the only thing she wants from her children is a new toilet seat, a pair of sensible black shoes, or a replacement floormat for her decade-old Honda Civic.
The Grain in the Rectangle
LORE SEGAL
If I had kept a journal in the early fifties, when I was new in New York, I would have marked the day on which I saw the basalt bowl in a store window in Greenwich Village. It was small, and had an in-curling rim and the finest matte black finish.
If I had kept a journal in the early fifties, when I was new in New York, I would have marked the day on which I saw the basalt bowl in a store window in Greenwich Village. It was small, and had an in-curling rim and the finest matte black finish.
April 23, 2021
Podcast: Fátima Policarpo on “Her Borders Become Her”
FÁTIMA POLICARPO
Fátima Policarpo speaks to managing editor Emily Everett about her essay “Her Borders Become Her,” which appears in Issue 20 of The Common magazine.
Fátima Policarpo speaks to managing editor Emily Everett about her essay “Her Borders Become Her,” which appears in Issue 20 of The Common magazine.
April 22, 2021
April 2021 Poetry Feature
MAKALANI BANDELE
she held her down, so she could get up, get out and get some soul food for us. outside the gallery space proper, somebody's tripping, you can smell the slow contrition. caint nobody talk like this unless they saying some real springboard off back.
she held her down, so she could get up, get out and get some soul food for us. outside the gallery space proper, somebody's tripping, you can smell the slow contrition. caint nobody talk like this unless they saying some real springboard off back.
April 20, 2021
Review: Not For Nothing: Glimpses Into a Jersey Girlhood by Kathy Curto
CARLA ZANONI
Kathy Curto’s memoir, Not for Nothing: Glimpses Into A Jersey Girlhood, is a dynamic and bittersweet retelling of the author’s childhood in which she seeks to understand and reconcile the inner workings of her family while lifting the veil of the American dream.
Kathy Curto’s memoir, Not for Nothing: Glimpses Into A Jersey Girlhood, is a dynamic and bittersweet retelling of the author’s childhood in which she seeks to understand and reconcile the inner workings of her family while lifting the veil of the American dream.
