The Blog



  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

2019–2020 Internships at The Iowa Review

TIR Staff

The Iowa Review seeks three editorial interns for the 2019­–2020 academic year. Interns will work 4 hours per week: 3 hours reading and 1 hour helping in the office. Duties will include reading and evaluating submissions to The Iowa Review in one of three genres (Fiction, Poetry, or Nonfiction) as well as office tasks as needed, including proofreading and social media. Interns will attend meetings of the reading group in their genre and read submissions primarily in that genre, although reading outside one’s own genre might be required at times. Weekly progress reports are required. Occasional attendance at outside events may be required. The wage will be $10/hour. Renewal of position for Spring semester is contingent on the intern’s successful completion of assigned tasks.

Yogurt (White Culture)

Christopher Spaide

Let’s pack the yum back in bacterium, yes, let’s restock the dairy
Onto legendary—you can bet your derrière that daily, duly,
Yes, yours truly too digests it, without a doubt, without delay.
Doll up your morning: one snow-white dollop’s just plain hunky dory,

One tub should tuck the tummy in each night. Can I get a witness
For this whiteness? Do you want a whiff? Each lick, like a white lie, lies lightly
On a tongue stung politely by an assaulting tang, delicately
Lipid-lapped, sweat-salt, a sour sniff and slight sweep of sweetness


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