Saturday, July 20, 2013

The Sound of Sugar....Rio Cortez




                           SALT LAKE

This is the place!                    Space is the place.
-Brigham Young                      -Sun Ra



I slip the silksac of my body    & walk out     onto the flats
the air a machine      sucking earth into fragments of white    absorbing heat
      finding me    starting to burn


I kneel at the shore      I reach into the lake     it is red   as a cut   
      I reach into the wound of it     I drag out    its string of black  
bones     and now I am two     times the dark 


I crush skeletons    of artemia underfoot   I eat eggs    in stasis the dead    lake idles
the city       surrounds    what weapons we are    I fold the net  of my shadow   I keep it
   as evidence





About the Poet:

Rio Cortez has received fellowships from Cave Canem & Canto Mundo Foundations. She was a recipient of the Sarah Lawrence College Lucy Grealy Prize in Poetry and the 2012 Poets & Writers Amy Award. She is a graduate of the MFA program at New York University & co-founder of the Good Times Collective. Her work has appeared in Clementine, Tuesday, Tidal Basin, Sugar House Review, Cratelit & Saul Williams' Chorus. Born & raised in Salt Lake City, she now loves & lives in Queens, NY.


About the Sound of Sugar:

We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

The Sound of Sugar....Matthew Ivan Bennett


“The Mormons Are The Only Utopia That Ever Worked.”

Peter Drucker, Deseret News, January 13, 2010 

On a pew in 1983 I believed this, but now the imagined bonnets are
slow to smile. Years converted me from organ strains into sympathy for
wife number seven who stares over cracked wheat, eyes full of Goshute
wilderness.

She rides West, expecting snowmelt to bleach Temple clothes—but the
chill only taunts. Bites down to bone with its questions.

Yet Seven lasts the interrogation, & spring water calls the woman upward,
to uncorseted yellow pine, where she gulps down the crystal syllable of
“No.”

Once inside her, the sound rips Masonic stitching from her underwear.
Gold-plated dreams fall through the holes.





About the Poet:

Matthew Ivan Bennett began writing at 10 when he saw a writer on TV in a comfy green sweater. Through years of commitment Matt earned his own green sweater, and wears it while workshopping plays with Plan-B Theatre and jumping on the mini-tramp serving as his office chair. His poetry has been published with Kolob Canyon Review, Western Humanities Review, and Mixer.




About the Sound of Sugar:
We’ve loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), so now we want an opportunity to better hear our contributors. We will feature an audio recording of a poem from one of our seven issues, read by the poet and updated every couple of weeks. This an open invitation to all contributors from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to hear it.