#interrupture

[lifeinpoetry]

I was a woman in the usual way I had                 no language but             distress and duty                         I have been taught to doubt my mother and fear tradition             but my queer tongue would not          could not shut up

— Chase Berggrun, from “Chapter I,” published in interrupture

[rabbit-light]

from Dead Year

If you want to hear a joke about how time passes ask someone else. I won't fool around with history unless in some scenario I come out fighting. I would like to say how I once broke a man but I would be lying. Instead I floated in my own blood, became a ditch for unweighable violence. You are no one to talk about an anniversary. Now I know how to unbecome a tweaking animal for however many innings it takes.

_______

Again I eat until I peel off into ribbons, scatter myself all over the neighborhood. Let's play the game where you hunt me through the year and I am never found. This life is for rickety commitments, stitches up to our throats. I see myself living beyond analogies while you stay ordinary. What I murmur into the future will not make me special but what I make I can easily kill. I remain perpetually off cycle. See, I am classically trained to the bone.

Anne Cecelia Holmes

[lifeinpoetry]

Sleep is an ache / I can’t body or ghost.

Scherezade Siobhan, from “My battery is at 15% on America’s loneliest highway” published in Interrupture

[lifeinpoetry]

I have a hard time writing anything confessional / if confessing means remembering the body.

Cait Weiss, from “Confession” published in Interrupture

[tinyghosthands]

I'm bittersweetened to have a poem in the farewell issue of Inter|rupture, one of the first journals I was published in. It's jam-packed with wonderful poems & art, so please, if you can, spend some time with all their issues. 

See you space cowboy...

Art by Samantha Wall

[noahfalck]

new poem in the final issue of the wonderful online journal Interrupture. 

[slopeeditions]

Check out Slope's rad AWP 2015 schedule-- and don't forget to visit us at Booth 624!

[tracydimond]

The pines creak like phones in the park, all day. Be glad if you ever meet your ugliness. Some can’t. They stay at the foot of a range that only appears insufferable.

from "Echo Organ" by Molly Brodak in interrupture