Melissa DeGezelle: Exact Cash at the Anorexic Bank
Melissa DeGezelle’s Exact Cash at the Anorexic Bank, preserved in the thirty-second installment of the historical poetry archive, with exact title, attribution, and publication placement documented.
Melissa DeGezelle’s Exact Cash at the Anorexic Bank, preserved in the thirty-second installment of the historical poetry archive, with exact title, attribution, and publication placement documented.
David Dodd Lee’s archived pair, Translation Ambulance and Errors, moves through war-zone imagery, medicine, damaged bodies, biological transformation, weather, desire, erasure, sound, and fragmented perception.
Joseph Mains’s three archived poems from A Portable Model of How Memory Works move through tattooed swallows, stopped time, seasons, Beaujolais, morning intimacy, scars, touch, and memory carried on the body.
Steven Manuel appears in the archive in the thirty-seventh installment. The surviving record preserves his full name and publication placement, while the work title and poem body are absent from the current page.
T.J. Meneely’s archived poem Park Woman Proof uses conditional structure, rooms, earthquakes, volcanoes, furniture, skin, water, and erotic imagery to turn the body into a volatile geography.
Anna Morrison’s Neanderthal Flute joins bone, breath, touch, cave imagery, animal forms, moonlight, fire, desire, and repetition in a charged prehistoric fantasy centered on the body as instrument.
Craig Cady’s archived appearances span experiments, visual poems, altered spelling, typewriter-like composition, gospel cadence, image-based work, and serial pieces across three installments.
Uyen Hua’s three archived poems move through cinema, cafés, imagined doubles, future and childhood selves, street performance, celebrity references, popular music, television, desire, embarrassment, and comic shifts in reality.
Shawn Arrajj’s Cell Mate moves through restaurants, waitresses, prison, tombstones, fathers, trains, basements, homeless figures, rain, changing months, and the recurring desire for home.
Eric J. Brinovec’s four archived poems move through molten steel figures, impossible weather, torn air, geometric wind, sunbeams, cloudy hills, dreams, and a verbal house built from scattered creation.
A.W. Wilson’s you’ll want that warm to the touch, preserved from the thirty-ninth installment, turns instructional language, touch, food, tools, and bodily unease into a compact poetic sequence.
Liz Afton’s Survival Instructions for Weirdos in Love, preserved from the thirty-seventh installment, uses imperatives, playful compounds, bodies, bed-space, weather, and animal detail to shape an intimate survival manual.