Blanket Sea

Arts & Literary Magazine

Month: January 2019

“anatomy of a burning thing” by Monica Robinson

The city never slept but its nights and days sounded different. The days were bright and burning and belonging to the masses; the nights, a cacophony, were his, the cars passing outside, shattered windows in back alleys, wild cats climbing on dumpsters, nails scratching metallic echoes. Gunshots cut through dark air, distant sirens resonated, groups of drunk college kids walked in packs, rocking back and forth up the streets, the homeless huddled beneath awnings in secluded corners of cracked sidewalks with splitting knuckles holding Styrofoam cups, shaking them so that the change at the bottom rattled between the empty spaces, buried deep in mountains of dumpster clothing.… Read more ““anatomy of a burning thing” by Monica Robinson”

“Box Spring Monster” by Amy Alexander

This monster under my bed is a mud woman,
dug from beneath the body keep,
creek water sauldered,
breakfast, lunch, and dinner breasts.

Belly, you’d think I’ve lived there
for how it pulls,
a thousand memories
I can’t quite capture
whisper vespers, suspect,
unsavory
Might savor me,
yet I am fixed,
and will not flee.… Read more ““Box Spring Monster” by Amy Alexander”

“Zebrafish Husbandry” by Tamara Sellman

“Hey guys super genius in daylight eggs and fertilized it and I have the
eggs and they’re going to hatch suit and if you like this video please
give it a thumbs up and if you’re new to my channel please subscribe thanks”

—YouTube: “zebra danio eggs” uploaded by Feeling Fishy on June 9, 2017.… Read more ““Zebrafish Husbandry” by Tamara Sellman”

“Delusion” by Mireya Vela

At night, I go into the backyard. I like being out there alone. The sounds of shrill, resentful voices from inside the house, as well as the loud clap of my loneliness becomes a dull din when I’m alone in the dark.

I feel the cold air on the back of my neck and hair.… Read more ““Delusion” by Mireya Vela”

Poetry by Lourdes Tutaine-Garcia

Falling in the Dark

Feel for the penny
when it’s flipped into a puddle,
rotating rapidly through air’s nothingness,
crashing into a solid that liquifies
then, sinking with slow sway
through water the consistency of jelly,
to land in mud,
       watery but not fluid
       grainy but not land,
       and what of the jagged things that feel like rocks?… Read more “Poetry by Lourdes Tutaine-Garcia”

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