American, thrice born again
Wood, tile, glass, liquid, an iPhone, some leather, bluegrass, French onion dip, ribbon, what appears to be human flesh (but is not), petals from the neighbor's garden
Of Makeshift Altars, the artist says, "There are things we belly-up to, even if we don't know it. We belly-up and elbow-in and get down on our knees, and there we kneel with our lords, our children, our iPhones, the scent of someone or something, the wood and wire and wine, the hunger, naming, un-naming, re-naming, the rain, the pattern of swans on the dress of a woman you've only ever seen in another woman's poem, the God-shaped hole, the whole, the half, the pie. Oh my. The roses, the roses, the roses."
About this poem
"I've been thinking a lot about art and language and my birthday and the things we belly-up to day in and day out. This poem is from a series called 'The Deeply Flawed Human,' which is currently being displayed, ad nauseam, at the Museum of the Nearly Forty Year-Old Flesh on the street where I live in Brooklyn."
About Nicole Callihan
Nicole Callihan is the author of "SuperLoop" (Sock Monkey Press, 2014). She teaches at New York University and lives in Brooklyn, N.Y.
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(c) 2014 Nicole Callihan.
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