Little Billboards #88
No surprise being uneasyto approach self-approval,the young man thread a soul. Continue reading Little Billboards #88
No surprise being uneasyto approach self-approval,the young man thread a soul. Continue reading Little Billboards #88
Sometimes I can’t tellif she’s eating yogurt ortubes of clown makeup. Continue reading Little Billboards #6
Her hand cups the rain,while my ears cup her laughter.Then–daylight thunder. Continue reading Little Billboards #9
Eating the TaleStrategies of foodshould be read by anyonewho likes a long, cold burnimpassioned with clarity. This is eating the tale. Pay homage to disease,obesity, abuse, corruption, danger,to math, to Schwarzenegger. Research something to chew:the lid, the tradition, the landscape. A fierce investigative narrativeis just about perfect. Continue reading Little Billboards #77
I wrote this Robert Frost/Marvin The Martian poem for a pop culture poetry anthology that ultimately didn’t get published or funded or something. Maybe reading Robert Frost’s “Desert Places” and its “empty spaces between stars” led me to thinking about one of my favorite cartoon characters. I had read Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a … Continue reading In Space No One Can Hear You Kaboom: A Poem
You can follow Emma on Twitter and at A Century of Nerve, and why not check out her new book House Is an Enigma, as well. It’s fantastic. Originally published at Eunoia Solstice in 2017. It’s been a privilege to read Emma Bolden’s work for a decade now and a pleasure to be continually surprised by it. On … Continue reading From the Eunoia Archives: An Interview with Writer Emma Bolden
Every banner says“Now Hiring” victims.The task of the branded. Continue reading Little Billboards #69
I feel as out of place as the steel drums on the Commando soundtrack. Continue reading Little Billboards #14
PrioritiesGrowing, its package solid. A tool movement portrait,wake-up call, super-size serving. This is a scantily examined anatomical portrait.Talented. Considerable. A good long time for this age of disease.A flair–an arsenal–points the way. We are the drive-through window,a picture peppered with barbarism, lets selves glint in gusto. Continue reading Little Billboards #78