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"This week, I have the distinct pleasure of curating a group of beautiful things. I suppose that's true every week, but I think this group is special in that beauty and the idea of possessing beauty, carrying it with us - these are perhaps the most immediately obvious qualities in each of this week's pieces. If they create the conversation that I see alchemically arising from their juxtaposition, I think that conversation is about the redemptive power of beautiful objects, and about the human preoccupation of carrying beauty with us."


They carry/you home in pieces—your body/boneless as hair—that birds press/your bones in their beaks—that bodiless/hair lines a nest—that birds truss/their nest with your bones—that every/beak widens a wound


Mambo Julie is a dynamic priestess of the Vodou tradition, an initiate daughter of New Orleans Mambo Sallie Ann Glassman and granddaughter of the world-famous sequin flagmaker Edgard Jean-Louis, one of Haiti’s most well-known and respected sequin artists.


"Some people read horoscopes daily. Others, a Bible verse. Fortune cookies, proverbs, the bathroom collection of Calvin and Hobbes—everyone appreciates brevity. Short gives us nuggets of short ‘information’ in the guise of great literature. Without overly lending itself to debating literary labels, the validity of different forms, or the need for genre categories, the book is a veritable treasure chest—a collection of writing so varied, it boggles the mind to think of the time, space, and circumstance these pieces traversed to unite in this gift of a collection."


Somewhere else now

girls vibrate urgently for your tips and when I say girls

I mean that.

Biography ungags me
then saws the scene in half.


When my mother tells me, under allegiance:

Be happy! When you smile happiness is chase you –
her language is a hand she lays on my head.


A clamor of picket signs/glitter thrown against artillery/Twenty teenagers are handcuffed and taken away/Some good
books are banned behind bars/Their brown backs slouched.


You could be almost
anywhere (very red and very bruised) almost any girl

(no socks no coat no shoes) whose family
dogs were trained to bark for a child

of a rabbit, a child of a deer, and you—
left for dead, bloodletting the snow in your front lawn


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 [...]


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.


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, [...]