Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 97
July 2, 2020
Walk
Raynor Winn
We’d expected extremes of weather while we were on the Coast Path, British weather. Wind, rain, fog, occasional hail even, but not the heat, the burning, suffocating heat. By lunchtime we’d crawled out of the shade of Woody Bay into an intensely hot afternoon.
We’d expected extremes of weather while we were on the Coast Path, British weather. Wind, rain, fog, occasional hail even, but not the heat, the burning, suffocating heat. By lunchtime we’d crawled out of the shade of Woody Bay into an intensely hot afternoon.
July 1, 2020
FAQ: Weekly Writes
Q: What if I’m busy and can’t work on the week’s prompts? Will they expire?
A: No. While we hope that writing every week is part of your program experience, we understand that life gets in the way. The prompts are yours to download and keep, so you can start writing whenever you have time.
A: No. While we hope that writing every week is part of your program experience, we understand that life gets in the way. The prompts are yours to download and keep, so you can start writing whenever you have time.
Home Below Sea Level
By CLANCY MCKENNA
I grew up on an island called Broad Channel in Queens that was at or below sea level, depending on the tide. My dad’s house was one that was high and dry. We lived on Cross Bay Boulevard, the street which ran down the spine of our croissant-shaped island.
I grew up on an island called Broad Channel in Queens that was at or below sea level, depending on the tide. My dad’s house was one that was high and dry. We lived on Cross Bay Boulevard, the street which ran down the spine of our croissant-shaped island.
June 30, 2020
Call for Submissions from the Arabian Gulf
Did you grow up in the Arabian Gulf? If so, The Common wants your work for its Fall 2021 issue, which will feature a portfolio on migration, disorientation, and complicated relationships to “place” in the Arabian Gulf.
June 29, 2020
Reading Black Voices: TC Staff Picks
TC Staff
This is the first in a series of features highlighting the Black writers our editors and staff have been reading. To read The Common’s statement in support of the nationwide protests against anti-Black racism, white supremacy, and police brutality, click here.
This is the first in a series of features highlighting the Black writers our editors and staff have been reading. To read The Common’s statement in support of the nationwide protests against anti-Black racism, white supremacy, and police brutality, click here.
June 26, 2020
June 2020 Poetry Feature: David Mills
DAVID MILLS
When I’m cursing them tanners under / my breath’s breath, I speak Yankeyfied / Negro / English. Gathered bit of limping / French and Spanish on a voyage // to Cadiz; anchor jarring the sleepy / waters of Caleta. Beach pinched / between two castles.
When I’m cursing them tanners under / my breath’s breath, I speak Yankeyfied / Negro / English. Gathered bit of limping / French and Spanish on a voyage // to Cadiz; anchor jarring the sleepy / waters of Caleta. Beach pinched / between two castles.
June 22, 2020
Claudia Masin: Spanish Poetry in Translation
CLAUDIA MASIN
Anyone who’s been hurt carries the damage with her, / as if her task were to propagate it, print / it onto anyone who comes too close. We’re / innocent in the face of it, as a frost is innocent / of devastating the harvest: its freeze was already / there, inside it, like its need to fall.
Anyone who’s been hurt carries the damage with her, / as if her task were to propagate it, print / it onto anyone who comes too close. We’re / innocent in the face of it, as a frost is innocent / of devastating the harvest: its freeze was already / there, inside it, like its need to fall.
June 18, 2020
Explore the World with Issue 19 of The Common
This interactive map shows where each Issue 19 piece is set or was written.
The Red Picture and the Blue
JEHANNE DUBROW
According to the story, my third word—after Mommy and Daddy—was “picture.” In Zagreb, where I spent the first two years of my life, my mother lifted me from my pram to see the pieces of art. “Look, Jehanne, look at the picture.” On sunny days, we took the funicular from our apartment in the old section of the city, downhill to the lower, newer portion, where we visited galleries or just toured the neighborhoods.
According to the story, my third word—after Mommy and Daddy—was “picture.” In Zagreb, where I spent the first two years of my life, my mother lifted me from my pram to see the pieces of art. “Look, Jehanne, look at the picture.” On sunny days, we took the funicular from our apartment in the old section of the city, downhill to the lower, newer portion, where we visited galleries or just toured the neighborhoods.
June 17, 2020
ruckus
VAUGHN M. WATSON
a rotor spins in concentric circles / the epicenter a DC street at dusk / even a military helicopter’s incessant droning / can’t wake this country to its circumstance / locals peer through the gaps in their blinds / trying to see what all the ruckus is about
a rotor spins in concentric circles / the epicenter a DC street at dusk / even a military helicopter’s incessant droning / can’t wake this country to its circumstance / locals peer through the gaps in their blinds / trying to see what all the ruckus is about
