In windows behind the night glassof my second story bedroom, I seeyour one green eye as bright as a dying star.

Under the water

--nodeeper than that,

farther.

The woods are quiet, Daria said. Yeah, what do you mean? I mean they’re quiet. No sound. No movement. Nothing. It’s weird.

WANTED:

Hell Hunter: slayer of demons, killer of psycho clowns, fearless destroyer of creatures born from utter blackness/bleakness of bottomless pit nightmares

Barrelhouse Poetry Editor Dan Brady sat down with Chase Berggrun to discuss their book R E D, a book-length erasure of Bram Stroker’s Dracula, forthcoming from Birds, LLC. 

there once was a girl who forgot everything,who named herself Gretel.

It was an act borne of desperation, as these “how I came to work in a restaurant” stories often are. I was rudderless and penniless when I took a hostess job at a hotel restaurant in Death Valley.

Let’s go to Saginaw, my parents house, and definitelyhave my mother cook cow braised in Vargas’s light chile powder so simplemy mother says there’s nothing to it, says anyone can make it, but they can’t.

“There’s so much I don’t know.”

Anthony Bourdain’s remarkable and tragic life can be summed up in this one simple sentence. He spoke these words in an early episode of Parts Unknown as he marveled at the delicacies of LA’s Koreatown.