ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Cory Hutchinson-Reuss grew up in Arkansas and holds a PhD in English from the University of Iowa. Her poems have appeared or will soon appear in Drunken Boat, Four Way Review, Pangyrus, basalt, The Missouri Review’s Poem of the Week, and RHINO Poetry, among others. She has been a Best New Poets nominee, the recipient of the Lynda Hull Memorial Prize for Poetry from Crazyhorse, as well as a finalist for the Lexi Rudnitsky Poetry Prize from Persea Books and the Lindquist and Vennum Prize from Milkweed Editions. She lives in Iowa City and serves as a Poetry Reader for The Adroit Journal.
Also by Cory Hutchinson-Reuss:
I Know a Man Who Swallowed the Sky
Soundings
Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry:
Notes on Tense
Humid Blues in the Streets,
all the loose vowels and sweet tea, the brass and chanting.
I wear chlorophyll. Amber waves of grain. Festival a question,
meaning I throw myself into the human gears,
laughing, meaning everyone tells me the truth
as they see it in a mirrored hall. Some want new bodies.
Some want a king, but a king is blind like a bee
who thinks he’s king. Some want to see themselves
full length in the mirror for once, but the governing body
has redacted its documents to the point of their disappearance.
We’re zoned like cities. We want to know
how to walk through parking lots, along contorted halls,
up and down a staircase, among the crowd at the fate,
the fête, the one we all share when we feel
the boundaries slipping. Cabernet in a red cup
is what I drink in the heat so I can’t distinguish
the drinker from the drunk. Who is the sovereign body?
At the root of its etymology, the host is the guest,
the festival the feast, where the body calls
and responds to itself across the table, working a blessing
over its own wounds. The best fools turn cartwheels to feel
the new liturgy. Down the street, the step team comes with joyful signs.
How can we see ourselves and/in each other in a political system that fails to reflect whole persons and refuses hospitality to guests? What embodied acts of joy and hope will change us?
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
