Ars poetica horizontal on the kitchen floor
you are a body for ekphrastic. you see your own clouddark self. the dog already fed. padding around your head panting into your air. your slog. august heat in february. you are wind stuck in a closed room. got it? okay. your dog is whining hungry for a second helping & sniffs inside your mouth. When you float above yourself—you, a wind hungry for space. the dog with no place to dig—the dog with no mouth seeks food. Stop this drama, bring your cloud back to the blimp of your body. feed the dog slog. sweep up you sack of heat. Look the dog in his amber eyes & let him see your eye stick out your tongue catch his glance and savor first the iris, then the pupil—
a recipe from the southern sympathy cookbook
fat on a blue china-plate a fly, floating in milk a black orb
the sun, like sweetrolls the sun, milky sweet, the sun, a china-plate
like scalded milk on a sweetroll a sweet sun floats in my milk a different blue
my eye, my milkeye my dead, floating
the kindness of floating of sweetrolls of flies
Christine Guaragno is an MFA candidate and indie bookseller in Memphis, TN. You can follow her on Twitter @xtine_gmac.
Artwork by: Kent AndreasenKent Andreasen is a multi-genre photographer based in Cape Town, South Africa.
Instagram: @Kent Andreasen