Eros of Heroines Poem by Ange Mlinko

Sunset backlights some pine to ... a caped sponge
and though I throw my gasp after a monarch there is no hitch,
no hitching either to its serape or the echoing orange
drawing a rope, horizon's doubledutch.
Mina Loy + Arthur Cravan


As blood hits the air & goes red, so I burst outside exhilarated.
He has thrown a tippet on the double-bass, which rests on its end-pin
the way a singer rests on a glittering stiletto
while the other foot slips on a banan—piano. The strings
are not the electrified wires of a prison camp, but she's the instrument
of his escape, leaving me to educate my feelings,
subtracting the red from night til a winebottle dawns green.
Leonora Carrington + Max Ernst


I saw the chessplayers over their griddles, all the furor of thinking
swallowed like a song in a furred flute; so it must seem
when a small daughter disappears with a wife,
morning reabsorbed into a lambent priori.
Jacqueline Lamba + Andr