-
New Poems from Sun Yung Shin
We have two new poems from Sun Yung Shin for you this update. Click here and here to have a look at these mythic considerations and imaginings of beauty, power, and death. If you’d like to review her previous contribution to the site, you can do so here. Sun Yung Shin is the author of […]
-
Woven through with Snakes
1. I sometimes dream I have an extra set of eyes on the sides of my head which I fail to hide with my hair, my snakes. In dreams I know a woman with snake-hair hunts with her eyes. Prey animals wear their eyes on the sides of their head to better see us coming. […]
-
The Gardener of Hell
In the Gardens of Hell every flower is a flame. Every flower every night swallows its own black face. Every little growing thing rings with the muscles of men. Where are all the lungs in Hell? Where the bulbs would be, beneath the surface, breathing in time. Red-blue balloons, vein-trails beneath. Strange jellyfish sail the […]
-
Poems from Amanda Nadelberg
We’re very happy to have excerpts from Amanda Nadelberg’s There Have Been Some Days I Didn’t Know Your Name, a long poem in progress. You can find them here, here, and here. You can click here for her previous contributions to the CultSoc. Amanda Nadelberg is the author of Songs from a Mountain (2016), Bright […]
-
from There Have Been Some Days I Didn’t Know Your Name
The first light was Sunday within an hour I’d gained open windows without thinking to forget radio and in remembering curated a new sound. Borrowed from the archives it made sense to caution against mutual modes of frivolity, but having met his brethren couldn’t feign what felt uneven in the pavement of our clumsy digressions. An animal out […]
-
from There Have Been Some Days I Didn’t Know Your Name
Making ritual is the same as making forms. Youth gathers along the parapet shore and solicitations by birds confirm what precise document a woman can be. At work someone says if you’re getting older it means you’re not dead. Looting solved canopies for past incantations light a commodity and I may have said this already. […]
-
from There Have Been Some Days I Didn’t Know Your Name
August’s incident played over Santa Ana though my friend thinks they’re warmer today, my friend gave accordion days to count. The environment makes for a typical convention of money and I’m certain I smell sugar on a prophylactic Sunday. To hear ourselves brightly opens the flue on whatever doesn’t (lightning) transmit, you have to be […]
-
Poems from Peter O’Leary
It’s been nearly a year since we’ve published new work here at the site and, frankly, we’re happy to draw that stretch to a close. We have for you, then, four new poems from Peter’O’Leary (pictured above, photo by David Pavelich): “Thirteenth Amanita Ode Ethnomycology and Image,” “Sixteenth Amanita Ode Kabiroi,” “The Daughter of Night,” […]
-
Thirteenth Amanita Ode Ethnomycology and Image
Courser in the boreal forest belt. Receded icecap. Permutated applications of singsong. Astral light of the midnight sun. Astral light of the noonday darkness. Before the art of distillation. Before the means of storing berries and the juices of berries. Before the techniques of fermenting liquors. Shamans and mushrooms. Spruces and birches. Northern Eurasian reaches. […]