January 25, 2009
by James Grabill
Earth jerks around the sun, blue Ford Galaxies
packing jet sky hydraulics, cricket pulse in the bones
making blood. Gray tenements withhold great blue gravity
for the living who prosper by who knows how it was going to be.
Never have we had another time more than this time now,
people climb onto the packed bus, manifest car lights troweling
for redemption, engines submerged in moving, the mufflings,
the fallings into open, particular expoundings, delicate exhales.
The heart-beating unknown evening might as well grant plenty of time,
here where we’re everything the moon lights up, the reverend cooing
into an ear of the baby of self-imposed sanctions, a woman sweeping
atoms into a corner of her spectroscopic addition until she finds a break
in the heard pitches. Cities are seen from the shuttle, the Hubble
receivers in resilient amber waves heightening bodies of trees
the body knows pretty clearly. All the world is how you give it
a place around you. All you can do is how the world opens
and closes as you work, scent of long hair, of dusty blackberries,
bitten cigar, the violet scarf, the steel frame shuddering as we slow,
phantom old-world willows rustling, the heavy shepherding coats
of a slowest particle, rainwater outside and in, wild passing light
— continually the human face being born. Cleverness wraps us
with outer ancestor space. And still the plants grow, spinning
as cross-modified sky galaxy groundingly spins, all matter
drinking root light. Nothing can be done that isn’t both trying
and letting go, the whole-housed nuclear flashes emulsified
in waves arriving and leaving. The coast of the ocean talks
about it louder than language, depending on your sun.
Hi, kids. My name is H. Bell. I am starting this blog as a place where people can get accurate writing resources as well as bitch about writing relating things. A little background about me, so you know I am not completely full of shit, though technically all of this means nothing:
I have published three books. My work can be found at – Apocryphal Text , Barnwood , Ditch and lots more. I also have forthcoming publications in Neon, Diet Soap, and the Columbia Review, to just name a couple. You can check out my newest chapbook here: FACTS OF COMBAT by Heather Bell . You can also find me writing stuff at deviantART .
Other than that, go fuck yourselves. JUST KIDDING. Feel feel to Google me if you want to know more. Put my address in on Google maps. Show up at my house wearing leather gloves and a ski mask. Ask me questions about brewing your own beer and making your own wine. We’ll sharpen our knives together. We’ll cry into a pan of Jello shots. We’ll kill little children. We’ll eat sandwiches. We’ll talk about how ham reminds us of the taste of human flesh. Show me your pig’s heart and I’ll show you mine.
I also like to post miscellaneous magazines I like or stupid links or other things like ‘How to Kill Your Mother.’ Which might exist, try it.
First thing that is entertaining me: Outshine . I don’t even have a Twitter (mainly because I would probably just write disparaging remarks or consistently frightening remarks. Such as “H. goes to the bathroom.” “H. is bleeding!” “Nevermind. That is just when she killed her neighbor Harold this morning. But yeah, she also got her period.”) I am an asshole. But Outshine looks cool. You write a crazy snippet of something and they pay you five bucks! Can’t beat that.
Second thing that makes me want to kill people: this news article . Note to anyone, if you can please explain to me what the fuck he was talking about, I will give you TWO DOLLARS. And a big screen television. That only plays American Idol. Invite your friends over, make guacamole, have a party! Call in your votes! Call me while I am not giving a fuck and I will congratulate you on your win!
I really like Dogzplot . It makes me happy that there are some really crazy people out there. Submit.
I really like ReadThisMagazine . They were the first magazine to publish me. This makes them renegades for love. I also really like One Night Stanzas . This is where I get some ideas. Or I find funny things. Or I have, on occasion, stared at the screen for a really long time and not really done anything other than go “hmmm,” which is also very important.
I will also feature any one of you lucky suckers over here if you send me your poetry. How’s about that?? I will also stage venerable prizes on occasion. Like walruses and books and art and genocidal dictators! I will also write snarky comments by your poetry.
And lastly, I will interview you, if you feel like you want to be interviewed. Send me something like: “hello my name is Idi Amin and I write poetry and I have been published here and here and here, mostly in Uganda, and what inspires me to write is dead people. And balloons.” I will send you some questions and then you answer them. And I will write snarky comments by all of your answers.
I can only assume this blog will be wildly popular and scathing. And give you lots of writing ideas! And I will try to tell you that I do not hate you, sometimes I will say it anyway and you will forgive me because I have really really nice hair. Let the games begin!