Submissions are currently open. See the guidelines for more info.
Spring 2018 Subprimal Poetry Art is now available.
Emily Calvo, Willow Margarita Schafer, Bill Vernon, Donald J. Mitchell, Donovan Hufnagle, Rachel Rose Teferet, Jeremiah Sears, Michael Flanagan, Sossity Chiricuzio, Sarah Rohrs, Amanda Yskamp, Beth Starger, Harry Roddy, Mark Danowsky, and Ndonwie Alain.
Some of the pieces have the author's reading set to a custom musical composition. Some have video. Take a look!
I wore white to the war. I wore it like a lily out in the open under the sun. I wore it like an open robe when the apostles turned away in disbelief. At the blood wounds no openings save for the thorns poking through at the crown, and a ring of gold in each palm. I wore white to the protest and waved a white flag of surrender to confusion, and picked up grey stones and lobbed them…
Overwhelmed by society’s demands,
I ask Grandma:
“Mangie Rose…how do I know that I’m doing the right thing?”
And with a loving smile
She answers gently:
“What is it like to be the orange?
You are sweet, and you are sour
You are loved for one of those, you are hated for the other
The lemon may claim to be your better,
And so may the tangerine and the other citrus fruits
But you have a name almost nothing can rhyme with.”
On the hill, there was only one tree splayed against the butter-blue sky. It sprouted from ash, and in the black dust the Silver Man found a shadow with its roots in the soil. The sun stood tall and scorching white at the peak, poised to strike and pull the shaded island down to the dark and greedy flames which lick below the earth, and leave only a tired horse befuddled against the butter-blue.
“I know,” raspy and certain from the ash, beneath the weathered hat. He looked up.
“Those are the bones of a cat,” said the shadow, and pointed to a pile…
Regarding her work, the artist says:
How We Move in the Face of the Hollow Man is part of a series based on the interactions of small silhouettes, and like other images in the series, it dropped into my head and begged to be released. While painting the Hollow Man, I realized the work was my visceral response to the 2016 election and the new president. Unlike other shallow people who walk through our lives, Trump gained power, which inspired me to feel desperate to decipher his motives; to discover his plans. However, investigation yielded only emptiness.
I didn't want the dominant character to resemble the president because he is not alone in his hollowness. Ironically, no matter how earnest we search to understand, being hollow means there is nothing to connect to. Yet rather than destroy them, it is wiser and more compassionate to work to dismantle them-which requires the diligent effort of many people.