0°prairiepomes
The new home of Fifth World Journal, Anna Marie Sewell's blog
Recent Blog Posts
When They Ask, I’ll Say
It's not our fault you feel bad. You should. We should. It's dead children. We can all do better now.
Published at prairiepomes
It's not our fault you feel bad. You should. We should. It's dead children. We can all do better now.
Published at prairiepomes
To Russia, with Love (of Books)
Well, today has opened with an amazing experience. I presented a talk at The Makushin Readings. http://www.spsl.nsc.ru/ Our topic: What is the role of Books as carriers of culture in our globalized, digital world? To summarize my answer: Books set down the limits of the known, and point at the po...
Published at prairiepomes
Well, today has opened with an amazing experience. I presented a talk at The Makushin Readings. http://www.spsl.nsc.ru/ Our topic: What is the role of Books as carriers of culture in our globalized, digital world? To summarize my answer: Books set down the limits of the known, and point at the po...
Published at prairiepomes
Day 27: when day and night is a short story
To define a nameless haunting: what would you call the feeling of loss, on finding out only now, a grandpa’s span later, about ‘a skeleton of my granny’? To learn a thing that, as a child of the seventies, passed by: how people wanted rock and roll so much, that lacking vinyl platters, they recor...
Published at prairiepomes
To define a nameless haunting: what would you call the feeling of loss, on finding out only now, a grandpa’s span later, about ‘a skeleton of my granny’? To learn a thing that, as a child of the seventies, passed by: how people wanted rock and roll so much, that lacking vinyl platters, they recor...
Published at prairiepomes
Day 22: Crayons and Other Fictions, or Metonymy of Mangoes
Those were the Tang-bright 70s, the Revello days knees grazed, skies so high and hazy with bonfire smoke - Who was that kid? the one who stuck things up his nose and roasted his wieners with the plastic skins still on just to see them shrivel. They were summer people dragged West with grandparent...
Published at prairiepomes
Those were the Tang-bright 70s, the Revello days knees grazed, skies so high and hazy with bonfire smoke - Who was that kid? the one who stuck things up his nose and roasted his wieners with the plastic skins still on just to see them shrivel. They were summer people dragged West with grandparent...
Published at prairiepomes
Day 19: Constant/Transient/Permanent
from the bee wing to the soul comes a thrum, at once low and above the mind line, fine and high, lime-bright tingle of song, shimmer on the lake of attention breath of trees, yellow from the pine arms to the sun a cloud rolls: that’s my love of a season, windborne marked by fragrant... Read More
Published at prairiepomes
from the bee wing to the soul comes a thrum, at once low and above the mind line, fine and high, lime-bright tingle of song, shimmer on the lake of attention breath of trees, yellow from the pine arms to the sun a cloud rolls: that’s my love of a season, windborne marked by fragrant... Read More
Published at prairiepomes
Day 16: Dystopic Diagram
O thou dystopic diagram of shadows wherein we see the frame of us and hunt the breakage. Where wert thou hidden, method and artifact, before she birthed and named you? On the precise edge of language changing from reverent cases and declensions to scientific lists, and as if to mark that cross-ro...
Published at prairiepomes
O thou dystopic diagram of shadows wherein we see the frame of us and hunt the breakage. Where wert thou hidden, method and artifact, before she birthed and named you? On the precise edge of language changing from reverent cases and declensions to scientific lists, and as if to mark that cross-ro...
Published at prairiepomes
Day 15: Archeology of a Last Nerve
pull the trigger breach the dam bury the evidence we have the means, the stories, the blind need to misconstrue through archeology anything at all, create an arc of time and culture or an ark divine, in whose boots to tremble heebie-jeebie monkeys that we are. drop the rock breach the dame blaze ...
Published at prairiepomes
pull the trigger breach the dam bury the evidence we have the means, the stories, the blind need to misconstrue through archeology anything at all, create an arc of time and culture or an ark divine, in whose boots to tremble heebie-jeebie monkeys that we are. drop the rock breach the dame blaze ...
Published at prairiepomes
Day 14: Circumference
‘Ashley is a circumference’ scrawled in chalk we giggled, i wondered who was bold enough to taunt him; also how typical, how yokel our 45 pupil school on the edge of nothing clearly, the wag had no idea what he or she was writing. Turning it over in my mind now Is Ashley a circumference?... Read ...
Published at prairiepomes
‘Ashley is a circumference’ scrawled in chalk we giggled, i wondered who was bold enough to taunt him; also how typical, how yokel our 45 pupil school on the edge of nothing clearly, the wag had no idea what he or she was writing. Turning it over in my mind now Is Ashley a circumference?... Read ...
Published at prairiepomes
Day 13: Ambiguous Sunrise
on the one hand, birds scratch shadows across blue lemon-lit bellies headed townward thus it must be time to rise and open silk o, sleepyheaded spiders, prod the root, let rhizomes ring out the call to arms of grass unless the hunchbacked northeast thunder clears his tarry throat again and spits ...
Published at prairiepomes
on the one hand, birds scratch shadows across blue lemon-lit bellies headed townward thus it must be time to rise and open silk o, sleepyheaded spiders, prod the root, let rhizomes ring out the call to arms of grass unless the hunchbacked northeast thunder clears his tarry throat again and spits ...
Published at prairiepomes
Day 12: Anticipation
i. open the door of the house envisioned you will fall through the floor you didn’t think to dream necessary, and below that, the basement never featured in fantasies. what we build, so much more than what appears. ii. dreaming of my old house reveals how i am tangled in the leap, and the net... ...
Published at prairiepomes
i. open the door of the house envisioned you will fall through the floor you didn’t think to dream necessary, and below that, the basement never featured in fantasies. what we build, so much more than what appears. ii. dreaming of my old house reveals how i am tangled in the leap, and the net... ...
Published at prairiepomes
