Poems like surreal midnight snacks…
Because of my synesthesia, even poems sometimes taste like food and drinks.
I found all my despair in her poem, which includes my favorite poetic device – endless surprise – as well as an homage to Dean Blunt, a musician I absolutely admire. A mescal cocktail with vampire teeth frozen into ice cubes.
I love Mela’s humor and her lush, surprising, and environmentally conscious imagery, which she successfully braids through these moving and original poems. Ideal for lavender brownies and a milkshake laced with your ancestors’ tears.
Aracelis Girmay’s poetry is singular and prophetic; her linguistic dance stems from astute observations and shatters your heart very, very, very softly. Herbal Tea and gold-infused cigarettes.
Unique in its composition, Rizkallah’s work bends and refracts the boundaries of language, beauty, and memory. She employs her mother tongue and compassionate, evocative imagery in a Whitmanian aesthetic to sing her body –Lebanese-American, female – electric. A tall glass of pure blinding sunlight.
Her work is a force that whips and makes love to the English language. I want to feast on all of it – have it with cinnamon tea, cake, and clotted cream sprinkled with Shakespeare’s blood.
If Mori’s work was food, it would be American, while also containing otherworldliness. She writes linguistically astute elegies that celebrate the absurdities of love. Comforting and emotionally dense, like pistachio ice cream with chocolate chips, lead, and chili. Her work will have you in tears, and then debilitate you, but it’s delectable.
I adore everything Sharif writes, be it poetry or nonfiction. Her words have taught me to look at language, and hence the world, in a different way. Transcends food – eat seventy-two lemons, a burger, and then fast for three days.
Just go and read it. This poem is a truly healthy snack to immortalize your soul. Fruit Salad with ambrosia dressing.
I want to live in the house that Alexandria Hall creates with her language, impeccable craft and subtle music. Her work tastes like a bewitched gingerbread house or a bowl of milk with swan feathers and gunmetal sprinkles.
Aria Aber was born to Afghan parents in Germany. She now lives and writes in New York City.