2011 — The Monarch Review — Page 12
When She Flicks The Latch – Jessica Bell
Tuesday, June 14, 2011 12:55 — 2 Comments
For the fourth morning in a row, Elvira wakes up to see her mother, Dot, passed out on the couch. A bottle of Smirnoff lies on the floor on its side, open, pleading for Dot to wake up and take down its few remaining drops with her morning cigarette. Dot’s skeletal, feeble limbs are splayed in directions Elvira recognizes as also possible on dead, bruised victims she’s seen on Crime TV. Their Australian suburban house is small—just slightly bigger than a caravan, but at least it doesn’t have wheels—at least this means they’re not ‘trailer trash’—quite. Elvira passes Dot to […]
A Nameless Guest – Jed Myers
Monday, June 13, 2011 14:09 — 0 Comments
It becomes more difficult to remember
The Physics Of Philosophy – Stephen Roxborough
Thursday, June 9, 2011 14:50 — 0 Comments
there are no lines he said
Elmwood – R. A. Allen
Tuesday, June 7, 2011 14:28 — 0 Comments
After I attained my BA in Political Science (with its emphasis on International Studies), a graduate’s egotism lead me, naively, to assume some government agency would rush forward with the offer of a Foreign Service posting. When none did, there followed a decade of drift. I worked in a bar and lived in the “tail section” of a subdivided airplane bungalow in grittily chic Midtown. I told myself and other disinterested listeners about my plans for graduate studies. Settling into a self-indulgent lifestyle, I was content to play volleyball and Frisbee in the park, get high with my similarly ambition-deferred […]
Carl Sandburg, Idols In The Sand, And Galesburg Shacks – Michael Lee Johnson
Monday, June 6, 2011 13:34 — 0 Comments
Idols are what idols appear to be.
Called Back – Andrew Bartels
Friday, June 3, 2011 18:15 — 2 Comments
The Monarch Review’s own Todd Jannausch installed Gallery 206 in Occidental Park in Seattle, Washington on May 31st 2011. The Gallery is a re-fabricated phone booth exhibiting original work by Seattle artists on its 19 panels. There is also a phonebook that contains the work of 206 Seattle Artists. When the receiver is lifted to the ear, Dave Abramson‘s music comes through the line. Andrew Bartel’s “Erasures” and poems, titled “Called Back”, appear on one of the 19 panels. I had a chance to see the panel before the installation, and asked him to write the following essay. As both […]
THE FAIR
Thursday, June 2, 2011 21:50 — 0 Comments
Check out Seattle’s SEASON, Lawrimore Projects and The Hedreen Gallery at THE FAIR International Contemporary Art in Vancouver Organized by Lucas Soi and hosted by The Waldorf Hotel. http://www.artaftermoney.com/
Clearance – Daniel Romo
Thursday, June 2, 2011 15:13 — 1 Comment
We’re buying bullets like a blowout sale in Baghdad. We use blood for our currency. I’m missing an arm; you stole my pocketknife. Did the nerves dance like rhythmic cilia while you whittled away? Dangle like long division? Through the scope I saw centuries. Sanctity. Civilians. We are the uninformed fuse of a smart bomb, the tint of Shiite prophecies, of mustard gas, of tarnished Heavens. The sand has stolen our mothers. We choke on our fathers’ pocket watches. We cough up pints of tens and twenties.
The Freedom Of Silence – James Brantingham
Wednesday, June 1, 2011 15:42 — 4 Comments
I tossed the remaining potato chips on the ground near my van. The sudden seagull stood guard nearby and said “quack quack.†That’s where this story started: I was intrigued by his opening observations. Seagulls are well known for their sleep shattering screeches and less for their more subtle quacks. This gray crumb beggar, this bi-avian polymultiomniphage definitely said, “quack quack.†He/she (I don’t know the difference, and I’m not sure they know without checking) quacked twice, just like a duck. In an effort at inter-species cordiality, I echoed, “quack quack†back to the seagull. Fortunately, no one overheard this […]
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney
