Stone Circle Review (@stonecirclereview) — Bluesky Profile

5 hours ago

Martha by Eric Fisher Stone …the Passenger Pigeon, passed away on September 1, 1914, in the Cincinnati Zoo. She was believed to be the last living individual of her species. –Smithsonian National Museum of N...

Stone Circle Replay Wednesday poem: "Martha" by Eric Fisher Stone (@javelinasarecute.bsky.social)

stonecirclereview.com/martha/

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5 hours ago

“But human beings weren't meant to create without effort, without humility, without knowing that they can bring art and knowledge into the world only by striving and laboring after what's beautiful and true.”

-- Marly Youmans, Ingledove

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16 hours ago

Looking at the Photo, I Remember an Episode of America’s Next Top Model by Megan McDermott after Julia Margaret Cameron’s "2d. version study after the Elgin Marbles", 1867 where contestants had to pretend to be living statues, staying very still as pigeons landed on t...

Going through some poems to read for a talk, & while America's Next Top Model is still kind of in the Discourse, I feel like I should plug this ANTM (& Julia Margaret Cameron)-inspired poem I had come out a few months ago with @stonecirclereview.bsky.social

stonecirclereview.com/looking-at/

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20 hours ago

If you weren't able to snag a signed copy of There Is News Along The Ohio River at AWP & want one, hmu! Two readings & a signing last week & sweet messages from folx who’ve read it so far have been super positive. Thanks to those of you who've read, purchased, or said something nice about it or me.

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1 day ago

Now that you're back from AWP or recovered from your AWP fomo, remember that we're open for submissions until the 15th! We would particularly love to see more visual art and non-fiction/essay work!

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1 day ago

Thank you, @timothygreen.bsky.social. As your fan--and @rattlepoetry.bsky.social's fan--it meant the world to me to be the guest for episode 333 of Rattlecast.

If any of y'all are interested, link to the episode in the first comment:

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1 day ago

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1 day ago

“An enchantment has entered my eyes, a beautiful vision arose in my mind and made its way to my heart.”

-- Mirabai, "The Cry of the Heart" - Translated by Sushil Rao

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1 day ago

Bathtub Divorce-Tears Gin – The McNeese Review

“I slip and curse like a broken lobster, washcloth in one claw, plastic cup for rinsing in the other. I feel ridiculous and sad.”

ICYMI, my micro appeared recently in the Mardi Gras issue of Boudin/McNeese Review 🦞🥃

www.mcneese.edu/thereview/ba...

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2 days ago

A flyer showing a photo of Alina Stefanescu, with long beautiful light borwn hair and a tan long-sleeved shirt. Also her book cover of My Heresies, and info about The Writer's Center Poetry Book Club. March 11th at 7PM online. Clickable link in the comments.

This Wednesday! Our first book club meeting with The Writer's Center! Link to register in the comments. Free, on Zoom.

Hear Alina Stefanescu read and ask her all your poetry questions! ❤

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2 days ago

Cover the newest issue of Rattle, with cover art by Nicky O'Connell.
In the image, a stone path through a gloomy forest (all trunks, no leaves) navigated by a school of gentle blue butterflies, each carrying a lantern.

Text of a poem called "Island of the Day Before" by Jane Zwart, too long to reproduce here.

Grateful to have a poem (with its title lifted from an Umberto Eco novel) in the newest issue of @rattlepoetry.bsky.social, a Magazine--and community--I've loved for a long, long time. Thank you, @timothygreen.bsky.social.

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2 days ago

Hey Lancaster PA folks, this Sunday @mgarrigan.bsky.social and I will be reading from our new books at Nooks Gallery & Bookstore.

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2 days ago

Thank you for sharing your work with Stone Circle, LJ!

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2 days ago

The birds of the Haworth dead by LJ Ireton At this hour, the bluebells sink into the background blue of shipwrecks. The dead rest under tables, silent, everywhere low is stone. Lichen lies draped, almost graceful, over the old ...

I am honoured to have a poem published in The Stone Circle Review. It is called 'The birds of the Haworth dead', available to read here: stonecirclereview.com/the-birds/ @stonecirclereview.bsky.social

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2 days ago

“A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the—not always greatly hopeful—belief that somewhere and sometime it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps.”

-- Paul Celan

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2 days ago

In case you missed it this morning...

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2 days ago

In case you're wondering about the "wurst", our apartment was over a deli/cheesesteak place called The Wurst House. It's now a bougie pizzeria.

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2 days ago

It's the 40th anniversary of the night I met my wonderful wife. How do I know that, after all these years, you might ask?

#HowIMetYourMother

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3 days ago

"MY HAND FEELS TOUCHED AS WELL AS IT
TOUCHES"

ON THE REALITY OF THINGS

"It is not consciousness that touches or feels," writes Maurice Merleau-Ponty, "but the hand." The hand wants to see, we know from Goethe. The hand opens to the word, says Edmond Jabès. "Sometimes I'd like nothing better than to get away and come to Paris, to feel you touch my hand," writes Ingeborg Bachmann to Paul Celan. Throughout philosophy, throughout literature, throughout epistolary togetherness, throughout the whole of Time the Hand.

Taking refuge for a brief moment in the cemetery of forgotten drafts—

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3 days ago

$P.S. I PRACTISED THE ÉTUDE TODAY Today, the feature wall bears a different motif, the way light refracts against Mother's vintage chinaware casting apologies back to a sender — for absence. By evening, I’ve only practised the etúde once, my execution poor, like that exam with an unexpected Distinction, the day she waited two hours at Kensington. Outside, snow drifts accentuating the chords I always found hard to reach. Self-study is not my discipline—except when she stirs soup counter-clockwise, time miraculously slowing above the frozen lake, two swans briefly coming into focus. Today, I cooked the last tomatoes from her garden and shook out the sheets in autumn mist. This is a woman's sorrow no man can carry, save for replying sparsely on paper: Dear stranger, from here, the poplars mother me like votive candles —their wicks steadily lit, one-by-one under a rose-gold dusk. When doves coo in the atrium, my faith returns soft-winged and sudden. They linger, peck at the fallen grain — long enough for me to sign off as someone you'd bring home. Two bodies hungry for quiet miracles. She would have loved your paintings, your books—your comfortable silence —like a long refrain, whenever we were too far away to hear the music.$

"Self-study is not my discipline—except when she stirs soup counter-clockwise"

— Vikki C., 'P.S. I PRACTISED THE ÉTUDE TODAY' from Through The Looking Glass: An International Portraiture of Mothers (@ballerinibookpress.bsky.social)

#InternationalWomensDay💐

#poetrycommunity #writingcommunity

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3 days ago

Zombie Extras Visit 7-11

Every night they return,
tripping down the hill
in tattered t-shirts,
hospital gowns flapping,
glucose syrup glistening red
across their chins and throats.
They seem tired of this death
as they pour hazelnut coffees
and buy boxes of Sour Patch Kids
and chat about what they’ll do
once they get back to living:
exfoliate the earth off their arms,
maybe hold their baby niece, or gnaw
a porterhouse steak to the bone.
They talk about the way they died
today: crossbow bolt, gatling gun.
One shows off the tread marks on his blazer
where he was flattened by a tank.

And when one of the dead gets a text,
she winces at her phone's bright light—
“They started filming again,” she groans.
“This is why,” one says, “we call the dead
‘late’.” It’s a steep climb, going back.
The dead hold onto each other
in case one of them slips.

here's my poem "Zombie Extras Visit 7-11," one of three new ones just out from the new journal @bulbregion.bsky.social!

"They seem tired of this death
as they pour hazelnut coffees
and buy boxes of Sour Patch Kids..."

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3 days ago

POEM 316: "The birds of the Haworth dead " by LJ Ireton (@literaryvegan.bsky.social)

"Every minute they cry,
so that you look up,
up -
the sky of the sleepers
is screaming alive;
raucous with cemetery rooks
discordant, glorious
blurring"

stonecirclereview.com/the-birds/

#Poem #Poetry

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3 days ago