by Danielle Deulen | Apr 28, 2019 | Lit from the Basement
Something New by Carmen Giménez Smith’s You have to want the induction of marriage with its lot of glue along with its half-death, helmets with initials carved in, persnickety daughters demanding liberal nods, half-baked urbaniacs living on Main and Third...
by Danielle Deulen | Apr 21, 2019 | Lit from the Basement
Ambition by Gary Soto For years our ambition was to eat Chicken. To sit in the back yard, In an aftershock of heat When the sun was out of the way. This happened. Drunk under a tree We became sophisticates of the lawn chair And beer bottles—trumpets we raised All...
by Danielle Deulen | Apr 14, 2019 | Lit from the Basement
Lightening by A. Molotkov I wrap my mother’s body in a small blanket. She is light in my arms. Sprawled by a fig tree, my father asks, Are thoughts made of our own flesh? I hesitate. Our flesh is a ship stripped of sails. We listen to the sound of the oars. A fig...
by Danielle Deulen | Apr 7, 2019 | Lit from the Basement
[but the rain is full of ghosts tonight] by dawn lonsinger and it has taken something from me, driven my feet from the earth, tendered a gift that displaces me. The water pours through where-I-was like a lesson no one will tell me—a breaking up by filling. Each...
by Danielle Deulen | Mar 31, 2019 | Lit from the Basement
Animals by Frank O’Hara Have you forgotten what we were like then when we were still first rate and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth it’s no use worrying about Time but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves and turned some sharp corners the...
by Danielle Deulen | Mar 24, 2019 | Lit from the Basement
The Romantic Lead by Ian Williams I yawned all the while we stood on the prow of a ship with our arms open in front of a green screen, I mean, a sunset. The week before I had to watch myself, my black and white self in a fedora, quick step through lines, We’ll always...