The Sundial Review

Quarterly literature, politics, art and culture magazine.

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Marc Bijl

[natbrut]

Join the Nat. Brut team! 

We’re currently looking to fill three volunteer positions: Advertising Manager, Blog Editor, and Non-Fiction Reader. Nat. Brut is committed to creating a platform for and by the voices typically marginalized from mainstream literary/arts consumption. That is why we favor applications from women, people of color, and/or LGBTQ-identifying folks, although we do accept applications from every demographic. We can’t wait to hear from you! www.natbrut.com/join-the-team.html

[bostonpoetryslam]

I have no peace left, it’s been replaced by smoke & I am sick of always running from the fire this time. I am sick with impossible hues of black boys, their dark ghost, crow winged angels raised lynch high off the ground. I mourn all the time right out the sky. I got no need for the sun & the moon might as well be a warning shot.

Danez Smith, “Song of the Wreckage,” from [insert] boy (via bostonpoetryslam)

[antigonick]

Maybe the monstrosity of being female is just too huge an issue. It’s been going on for so long.

Anne Carson, excerpt of The Art of Poetry No. 88 (via henrydear)

[halflunar]

The world doesn’t know what to do with my love.

Richard Siken, Self-Portrait Against Red Wallpaper (via halflunar)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

“What do you want?” I asked.“To be with you in hell,” he said.

Anna Akhmatova, from The Guest (via jaimelannister)

[typographie]

Research book to support a new identity proposal for the ship building and repair company. The book took form as a fictive narrative with the element of rust and revival of ships coming back to shore from the lost sea. Reviving human spirit as a result.

[marielreads]

But a chair, sunlight, flowers: these are not to be dismissed. I am alive, I live, I breathe, I put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight.

Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale (via tellmefive)

[beibadgirl]

[housingworksbookstore]

The idea is that there is no replacing the experience of reading a text. The very private interaction, the intimate communion of reading, sitting down with a book, living with it, having the book dwell inside of you – there is no substitute for that. Writers, when we’re in the public, we’re sort of ambassadors for our books. I think that the idea is that you attempt to re-create a much more simple version of the concerns and aesthetic work that your book is doing. … For me, when I do a reading or a public presentation, I feel like I’m there as an advocate of reading, that kind of magic that comes out of reading. The life of the mind, and the sympathetic practices, the imaginative practices, and the literary and linguistic textual practices that reading evokes.

Junot Diaz on reading, writing, and America’s amnesia about race - LA Times

[typographie]

[dukeofbookingham-deactivated202]

The sea heaved a heavy, scorching sigh. The sky seemed to split apart from end to end to pour its fire down upon me.

Albert Camus, L’Etranger (trans. Sandra Smith)

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Tokujin Yoshioka - Spider’s Thread, 2013

[barbarappa]

[nevver]

The Last Planet

[proustitute]

For when you examine feelings with the intense microscope that sorrow lends, it is amazing how they stretch, like the finest goldbeater’s skin, over immense tracts of substance.

Virginia Woolf, from “Reminiscences” in Moments of Being (via proustitute)

[cerceos-deactivated20160308]

Johannes Huwe - Iceland Roadtrip, 2015

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