Gaze

My guide and I first purified before the sacrifice, but can you be purified I asked her without being eliminated or erased? My guide said it’s always but with you, why can’t you just archive the whiteness or curate the liquidity of the city and play your music or whatever you do? Here, she said,… More

Humility

Whitman heard the “bustle of growing wheat” [I believe him] as he loafed in the grass in Camden, one ear to the earth enormous with corpses and vascular tissue, hairy roots of cabbages, horseshit enriching the Great Experiment – the other ear heard the “orbic flex” of a tenor and the soprano and ghosts ravishing… More

Meat

Bruce Smith His charge was to make something out of the contracting cool that glows and then goes vagrant, whole systems of courtships and compensations that get lost in a letter appealing to the dust and the red blue extremities of stars. His charge was to make something out of the over under story or… More

Don’t Move

Bruce Smith You can have a thought or avoid a thought by having a feeling when it’s dawn [human inhuman light] or a gun is drawn [here, elsewhere] and you put up your hands and get down and get small; don’t ever take one in the back. Or there’s music the birds authored, elegy and… More

Fogged Clarity 1

Order the print collection of poetry, fiction, and visual art two years in the making featuring the work of Benjamin Percy, Joe Meno, Terese Svoboda, John Hemingway, Bruce Smith and many others. “The work in Fogged Clarity doesn’t stomp its foot and shout look at me, I’m so clever and inventive and fresh, it just… More

DEVOTION: RED ROOF INN

Bruce Smith Write like a lover. Write like you’re leaving yourself for another. Write like you’re de Beauvoir, object and subject. Write like you must rescue yourself from yourself, become scrupulous to the body and the rain that floods you with rage and the crude sublimities: there was a lip print on the plastic glass… More

DEVOTION: AL GREEN

Bruce Smith I rode the Greyhound watching the twitchy things of the North give way to the sticky, bloodshot things of the South. No ground so burnt there’s not a church where I heard the Reverend amplify, rarefy, and glorify the word so that we were all in some state of sweating July. The ashy… More

Bruce Smith

Pulitzer Prize finalist Bruce Smith sits down with Ben Evans to discuss his life and work. More