The sonnet is inexhaustible. Magnetic, mesmerizing, bewitching, nearly every poet is drawn to the form at some point in their career, whether they long to write the perfect sonnet, the Shakespearean, Petrarchan or Spenserian, or they desire to break the form, queer it, manipulate it, celebrate its mutability; they want to discover what magic can happen within those fourteen lines.read more
THE EFFECTS OF ALBRECHT DÜRER’S ETCHING ‘JEROME IN THE WILDERNESS’ ON ACUTE RESIDENTIAL, BEHAVIORAL HEALTH EMPLOYMENT
I found an F. I was at my job, with this kid, a boy, when I stepped on it: a cube, bevel-edged small; a bead: F. Like a lion thing, a thorn. Ouch, I coulda said, woulda, but this boy was watching, and I was wearing my sneaker shoes, their like-Faith cushiony soles. And the boy, no saint, like martyring Jerome’s Lion, he stopped walking when I did. He watched me lift my left foot. The cube thorned into my sneaker’s cushiony sole, like Faith. The boy’s mom is dying, so I Lioned for him: Ha.read more
As I enter the garage to lift weights, I hear a vicious roar. To my surprise, I find a turquoise jaguar sitting on the washer. I drop my water bottle and run back to the kitchen. I retrieve a birthday cake from the fridge, and throw it to the jaguar.read more
Warhol & Kafka
Usually I obey the barking & thank an invisible God for invisible fences.
A bad batch of Molly, out of context, sounds so innocent.
What I was going to say is code for before you interrupted.
Back and forth, the waves sloshed in a steady rhythm–a calming musical accompaniment to the day.read more
Dzanc Books. 263 pp. In the first chapters of her memoir, Origins of the Universe and What it all Means, Carole Firstman packs up her father’s old house. According to his specific instructions, she organizes boxes to send to him at his new home in Mexico, and while...read more
She said she had seen a ghost, or a blurry vision, as she called it, behind our bedroom mirror.read more
I am cleaning out a woman’s underwear drawer,
a woman who burned herself to death in the woods last week,
The editors at Green Mountains Review are pleased to announce the winners of the first annual GMR Book Prize. Many congratulations to all the finalists! And congrats to the winners! The winning manuscripts will be published Fall 2016. PROSE Judged by Sarah Manguso...read more
Michel was an old and charming man as only an old and charming painter in a Parisian atelier can be. He was our neighbor. Whenever we ran into each other in the courtyard and spoke, I let him touch my hands and in the summer even my bare shoulders. This was a huge thing for me, although I didn’t know at the time whether it meant a compromise or a victory. Michel was also my second novel […]read more
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