“I go and then you go then I go then you run. At the end of things I am asked a question which I answer incorrectly and I am killed. The colors change when I am about to die and they change when I am dead. You talk to me about leaves. You talk to me about how beautiful it is when they die. You send me a letter in the mail with dead leaves and you ask me if I miss the colors and I say yes and this is all that I say.”
—from Brian Oliu’s Dragon Warrior, Sundog Lit Issue Three
Banango Street Issue 4 is now live. It features poetry and prose by Melissa Broder, Lisa Marie Basile, Brian Oliu, Rebecca Bornstein, F Daniel Rzicznek, James Tadd Adcox, Caroline Crew, Theadora Siranian, Joshua Amses, Leora Fridman, J.D. Sommer, Sarah Jean Alexander, Juliet Childers, David Tomaloff, Matthew Drew Williams, Alexander J. Allison, and Kat Dixon, with art by Andrew J. Weatherhead.
We are also excited to open submissions for Issue 5 in an expanded 5 categories: poetry, prose, translations, collaborations, and artwork. Submissions are open until Friday, July 19th.
Finally, we announced yesterday that we are seeking a guest prose editor for Issue 5.
(via naphypelabs)
“You tell that female you are a family man, you regularly use that hand to chip the skin off your children’s apples and cut them into quiet sized pieces – pieces that make no crunching in the kitchen or the school library where you order your kids to have a lonely, reader’s lunch. You say you are a family man, but above that you believe in love – so every spring you donate yourself on karmic charity to dance with one girl at a party where you dress like a grand piano playing Brahmin. Your wife must let you move that way, towards their door, because you are a cloud and her hands slip on your clots of cotton and you escape because you float and your wife wouldn’t want to hold on to you, slipping – she’s afraid of heights - as you rise up through the skylight in the kitchen.”
—from Lindsay Herko’s The Woman Married to a Cloud
On the eve of the release of our fourth issue, we have an important announcement to make:
For our fifth issue, we’re looking for someone to help us edit the prose section (fiction, nonfiction, flash fiction, lyric essays, etc.)
If you’re interested, send us an email @ banangostreet@gmail.com,…
(Source: officerserpico, via beckstraordinary)
“Somewhere east of here is saltwater, and Chesapeake Bay, where a million years ago I was with friends, and a girl, and the water in late September at midnight was warm. Is the Atlantic still there? I’m not sure I can get to it anymore. And I don’t know where I am, but I’m here, in eastern Kentucky. Everybody here knows that Kentucky is an Indian word that means ‘the dark and bloody ground.’ It’s not true, but everybody knows it anyway.”
Issue Three | May 2013
We bring you Issue Three of Sundog Lit. This is a really great issue, and we’re so proud to bring…
“My own novels start as tiny glimmers—of character, story, scene. I don’t have an arc or structure mapped out. I have tiny hot pieces kicking around in me, and I feel them, not with the mind, but with the body. They have a certain feverish intensity, a certain dreamlike immediacy. They feel alive. And the challenge for me in that early stage of a novel is to stay open to that life, to lean into that feeling of raw, at times untenable emotion that can’t quite be circumnavigated by the daylight mind. It’s a human impulse, in writing and in life, to avert the eyes—to look or move away from what feels too intense or excessive, to pin it down into logical terms.”
—Dawn Tripp, at the VQR Blog
Friday Rex | May 10, 2013
Hobart’s doing poetry. You should go read all their poetry. You should start with Mike Young’s 2…
Friday Rex | May 10, 2013
Hobart’s doing poetry. You should go read all their poetry. You should start with Mike Young’s 2…
