The Blog

The View

Ryo Yamaguchi

Last and then the throughway curled up to see the echoing of the specifics

what we and the material and what houses the material don’t you mean where

sold by value thinking hard the table window the insert the view edit don’t not look

a balloon descending down into the mirrors this is what no it’s the city streets

a hole in the cement the train the view edit the file wake up don’t think do go

gripped by the before the last night the coming of age the chest rotating toward

don’t you mean future futuring futurescope the dispersal hawing nictitate do go

You Occurred to Me

Katie Ford

A particular light in February,
singular in the sheen of ice upon the hill,
the ground cover grain or rayless yellow,
was sent to me in a photograph by someone thinking of me then,
a man walking in hills, I occurred to him, I
occurred. To make something of me, a photograph,
a stopping by me, a sending, it was an I
who filled another’s mind. Our eyes let what is good
pass in and what is unnecessary sieve through—



  I was made from Hawaiian Punch ice cubes
chicken breasts & cauliflower ear Sir Newton’s
Law of Motion drilling double leg takedowns
sprawls shucks fireman's carry I was made from
garbage bag T-shirts cherry Skoal black spit
filling water bottles in the back of classrooms
I was made from ritual a bouquet of boys
pissing on the other freshman & I that lettered
in the locker room showers I was made from

Excerpt from ATOPIA

Sandra Simonds

“Mr. Watson—come here—I want
to see you.” The harmonics of
Hello. Hi. Ahoy. Static electricity
when you rip apart two bodies.
Troops sent
to the border. I want to see
you too but I’m stranded inside
the engulfment of my eye, which is,
in itself, a kind of dying rhyme
or an embankment. Turned on
Democracy Now while at kids’ violin
lessons. More troops sent
to the border. I live in a swamp. You live inside
a ring of dry mountains. The Can Can


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