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Violetta and Cristina, Gypsy girls/​selling jewelry on the strand/were led into the sea, and screamed/until they drowned.

Last week, I introduced the basic concept of this Infoxicated Corner and what I hope it will do, and I kicked off its inaugural week by curating poetry, a review, and visual art that I thought illustrated that message essentially -- their primary modes of function were to stare into the abyss (which is so often the self) and embrace difficult truths. It was the best place I could have hoped to begin. This week, I wanted to add to that curation -- and I do think of this as a collaboration between the creators whose work I curate, myself as curator/editor, and all the readers who participate in the enjoyment, celebration, and consideration of all this art -- by placing a series of works in conversation that I think [...]

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The chandelier that should dangle/majestic glass over unreachable rooms/in the rich part of town is discarded/to storage, grounded.

CAConrad glasses

i’m the faggot at/dinner asking to/be alone/with the/children/tell them their/future happiness/depends entirely/on how well they/cultivate rebellion against/any structure which/does not hold their/autonomy and/creative intelligence as a priority

  This stained glass-style tattoo of St. Patrick was done by Jessica Morsey, who runs her own business, Mad Tatter Ink, in upstate New York. Paulie Foley, who sports the piece, says it symbolizes his ethnic and religious heritage, and family unity: "My grandmother, who is ninety-six years old, was raised by Scandinavian parents in a small town in the American Midwest. Her father was a Lutheran minister. When she was a teenager, she fell in love with an Irish Catholic guy her age. It caused a huge scandal and they had to elope. They went across the country, found a new small town, and started a new life together. The Catholic church in their new town -- the one I grew up attending -- is St. Patrick's."

Morrissey, Parallax

Sinéad Morrissey’s most recent collection of poems, Parallax, which won the T.S. Eliot Prize in Poetry in late 2013, opens by defining its title via the Oxford English Dictionary as, “the angular amount of … displacement or difference of position, being the angle contained between the two straight lines drawn to the object from the two different points of view, and constituting a measure of the distance of the object.” Morrissey’s citation of this precise definition implies the role of subjectivity in poetry — not only determining the distance and perspective of the subject to the object studied in poetry, but also how determining that perspective contributes to the holistic meaning of a poem. Morrissey views her subject matter from many angles, allowing her poems to express and incorporate multiple [...]

sumana roy

That is peace, the house’s morphine/for which you pay the bank interest.

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Welcome, everyone, to the first weekly installment of TheThe Infoxicated Corner. I've chosen to begin this conversation by curating Bradley Harrison's achingly beautiful poetry alongside stunning visual art by Trista Dymond and Jennifer MacBain-Stephens's curious-and-curiouser, deeply-felt review of They Talk About Death (chapbook by Alessandra Bava). To me, these are all works that, by their individual natures and by working in concert, set an ideal tone to begin this collaborative project of displaying, sharing, enjoying, and discussing poetry and art.... in the most Infoxicated of ways. What is Infoxication? It's a little bit like getting drunk on poetry and art -- perhaps a bit more reflective or purposive, but no less celebratory. It seems to me lately that the internet fosters/festers a lot of rage. Much of it is righteous, [...]

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We are here to “stare at our beautiful corpse of a poem,” and Bava generously allows us to dip a toe in the afterlife. If we are lucky, we can grab for a stronghold in the cliff and hold on.

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Now I know the light in Vienna as one sings/coming towards me/I know worn-down houses/in the gutted industrial in the decapitated/envelope/morning rages/ from your clavicle

das

The leaves/are shaken by visitations/The only verification/is shit.

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You have to be able to look your piece in the eye and tell it you aren't afraid of what internally it may represent, that you actually love it no matter what.

Laura movie still 7

The "night-world" of eternity

kryptonite

There are roach motels/Set out around almost every portal to heaven/Watch for them but do not beware, my love/For when the sweet die/The adhesive turns to honey on their feet.

LangstonHughes2

Brian Fanelli concludes his discussion on Langston Hughes.

LangstonHughes2

Brian Fanelli continues his discussion of Langston Hughes's work, Jazz, sound and Harlem.