The Orris: A Cultural Journal

Poetry: Valentina Cano

It happened when I wasn’t looking.

It came, dragging its chains

of scorching days,

each fused to gather your image.

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September 11, 2012

Artist Profile: Ernest Williamson

I’ve always been fascinated with visual art and poetics; however, I came to the realization that I was an artist at the age of nineteen. After a nervous breakdown, I began to create visual art at a feverish rate and interest in my work grew rapidly.

September 7, 2012

Poetry: Michael Brownstein

They could not bury them fast enough,

the rain thick and slippery, the mud a river,

and in the morning’s blue sky, a whip of cloud,

pink haze, great green vines hugging short trees to strangle

August 28, 2012

He’s a Vampire

Not long ago, a noted academic

Told me, in reference

To my misuse of the word “polemic”

In an abysmal book review sentence,,,

August 24, 2012

“Revelation”

Most things change,

leave shards.

The spirit-letter thing

stays hard.

-Guy Rotella

Illustration: Bryan Ramey

August 14, 2012

Le Gris des Fleurs

A day in the seasonless house.

For each grey, a flower

. . .

August 7, 2012

Man v. Car

I don’t know why I’m out here

On worn-down tires and pitted

Chrome, red and yellow sparks

Flying in little comets from

July 27, 2012

Looking at You, Twenty-Four Years On

We remember imperfectly, thank God;

you across to me; me across to you.

Still some measure of sympathy, I guess:

parity, we realized early on,

is one sure recipe for disaster —

April 24, 2012 · 1 Comment

Old, Old Seamus

was thirty-five and looking for death in

every phrase; would meet you half-way if you thought you couldn’t get at it. He knew what you were saying. He’d find it. Was every month now giving me another Mishima novel

March 27, 2012

A Retiring

With no way to get up there anymore

without hitching a ride with the old enemy;

disgraceful maybe, or just over-trusting.

The world stage changes ever faster these days.

March 16, 2012

Outgoing President George W. Bush at the Inaugural Speech of Incoming President Barack Obama

Man I’m never as free as when I’m there

racin’ that truck over the Crawford dirt,

’bout 60, 70, feels like 90 —

March 6, 2012 · 1 Comment

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