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SELECTED NOTES ON ‘MAKE’ While the preceding poetic territory relies on the insistent enigma of the writing process as a source of music, I offer these notes to readers interested in delving further into the minutiae of the text. Generally excluded are identifications of historical figures, place names, and other entities that might be located…

            Cameron Lovejoy is a self-taught poet and fine printer living in New Orleans. He operates Tilted House, a small press focused on intimately made handbound books. His work can be found or is forthcoming in Denver Quarterly, DIAGRAM, Ghost Proposal, and others.  

The formula that we found is that the body must make the minimum movement between the maximum number of poses. We created a vocabulary of these poses, and we would go from one pose to the next pose to the next pose as fast as possible. We called it Expressive Idiocy. —Slava Polunin Huffy Henry…

Doug was living in a cave when the end came, thunder wrestling through the sky. His cell phone lost service. It wouldn’t take much time for the party to really begin. Due to same lax oversight from NASA, hundreds of satellites were veering off path. Maybe that was uncharitable to NASA. Gravity had relaxed. In…

I live in this place where nobody acts right. We’re all bow-legged with bad love, down here. Last Sunday supper, my Pa got in a Tae Bo-tong fight, at Dong Dynasty Super Buffet, over quinoa fritters. And Mama makes whoopee with the Mayor behind Pa’s back. In Ezekiel, Mississippi, my family runs around town like…

The air is thick tonight. Thicker than usual. It’s a realization that comes slowly, as if the normal rush of brain waves are somehow hindered by the swollen stickiness of the swamp in summertime. I press my body through the murkiness of night that awaits me as I exit the air conditioned palace of the…

When I was twenty-three years old, I sat at a card table in the back room of a business called Security Check. It was a collection agency in Oxford, Mississippi that specialized in over-due balances and checks returned for insufficient funds. I had a small computer in front of me with a black screen that…

I’m a fairly undramatic sleeper. I don’t snore unless I’m drunk. I barely move unless I’m horny. I don’t talk in my sleep and I hardly sweat. Women have joked that I look dead inside my own slumber. Testimonies which have all come in the years after I quit drugs, I should add. I don’t…

  Giulio R. M. Maffii was born in Florence (Italy). His studies are dedicated to poetry (linear-experimental-visual) and its diffusion. He wrote essays such as “Le mucche non leggono Montale” (2013) or “The feet forward: the long walk of anthropos and thanatos between poetry and similar vices” (2020). He wrote books of poetry like Misinabì…