by Danielle Deulen | Nov 25, 2018 | Lit from the Basement
What is the Body by Hannah Dow if not a nest indiscernible like a plover’s shallow hole in sand lined with shell, untouchable like a woodpecker’s mine in a tree’s soft patch. If not a verb, a being, the way a pregnant woman who arranges her home in...
by Danielle Deulen | Nov 18, 2018 | Lit from the Basement
I Watch Her Eat the Apple by Natalie Diaz She twirls it in her left hand, a small red merry-go-round. According to the white oval sticker, she holds apple #4016. I’ve read in some book or other of four thousand fifteen fruits she held before this one, each equally...
by Danielle Deulen | Nov 11, 2018 | Lit from the Basement
Drift by Brenda Shaughnessy I’ll go anywhere to leave you but come with me. All the cities are like you anyway. Windows darken when I get close enough to see. Any place we want to stay’s polluted, the good spots taken already by those who ruin them. And...
by Danielle Deulen | Nov 5, 2018 | Lit from the Basement
Door by Dana Levin And then an uprush of air— And then the cellar doors banging back, the strong dusk light falling in like a stanchion, a gold nail hammered through the blackened trees— Can you see it? You, psyche, burden, friend? This is the first time I can...
by Danielle Deulen | Oct 28, 2018 | Lit from the Basement
Ghazal of Dark Death by Federico García Lorca [translated by Catherine Brown] I want to sleep the sleep of apples, far away from the uproar of cemeteries. I want to sleep the sleep of that child who wanted to cut his heart out on the sea. I don’t want to hear that the...
