Articles

swiveling in from the ends to the hot nested scalp, it was meant to be yes, August,
this is what is happening when she busses the lather close.

spines, whole tunnel columns
knit out to carapace,
we muscle the chlorine up into
orange-hot cloud cover

An Empyrean eye, giant and lashless, its celestial iris filled with sky. Called The False Mirror, Georgette regards it more as two-way. Man Ray owned it from 1933 to 1936, and said the painting “sees as much as it itself is seen.”

As I write, the estimated size of Google’s index is 46.5 billion webpages. But how much do webpages (a metaphor) really tell us about our digital lives anyway? Think of all those smartphones, all those apps. There’s so much dynamic content that Googlebots can’t crawl.

then the scent of the chlorine seeps beneath the glass
doors into winter.
If dinner simmers
on the stove into summer, spring, fall. If

Abra is an unstable, excessive text, one that mutates on the page, blurring the boundary between word and image as poems morph one into the next.

David Scherrer’s photograph titled Getty is featured on the cover of this edition of the Bellingham Review. David Scherrer: Over the summer, I had the opportunity to visit an old friend who was working at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles. We spent a fair amount of time walking through the extensive grounds of that institution, …

On August 14th 2003 I decided to put my roommate’s painting out on the curb. My girlfriend Tracy and I weren’t living together at the time, it would turn out we never would, but I was living in an apartment on Bedford Ave with two of her friends from college.

& bridge, holding roses in the cold
asian mint, jasmine, leather

This circle drawn in sand:

This halo of string spread across the living room floor:

Marbles—did you bring yours?
Bright collection of agate balls
Put’em in then, let ’em go
Keepsies or quitsies—you choose