Hi! Back! Moving over from Twitter. Here’s a recent short story; more to come.
This is about wishing you could eat paint and other things you shouldn’t want.
I have been vividly inactive,,,, but now I have an important thing I am very invested in and excited about!
I won Newfound Org’s 2019 Prose Chapbook Prize ^^^
And Things From the Creek Bed We Could Have Been is my debut collection of surreal short stories from this independent press and it’s out for preorder now in both ebook and print here!
I’m very proud of this work and so delighted it’s found a home with a press that makes beautiful and hand-bound books.Consider taking a glance if you’ve got a moment or an interest in learning about Magritte or fish guts or Cerberus or gender thank youuuu.
Why are the peaches in the river and how are they about divorce? Gonna have to find out.
Also consider reblogging to support an independent writer and press in one fell swoop, thanks so much!
art cuz I haven’t posted in a bit
claireoleson reblogged
she’s small and made of sodium
(just lil new art o mine)
she’s small and made of sodium
(just lil new art o mine)
Excited to have a short story in the upcoming issue of Bridge Eight
claireoleson reblogged
today the air is dim, oyster-shell dim cut through with sheens of rain, coming from far off, nearly off-screen, with cold signed at the bottom of every cloud-bank.
the sky is longer than the word it takes up or the words it takes down when snow happens in front of the billboards, the ads, going white.
- C. Essington
claireoleson reblogged
the fire going down until its just loose heat and fruit, the quick lisps of faces caught at its edges, those missed-stitches of expression, the looping sugars of eye-contact swimming softly, breathing glow.
the fire going down until its just loose heat and fruit, the quick lisps of faces caught at its edges, those missed-stitches of expression, the looping sugars of eye-contact swimming softly, breathing glow.
Heading back to my college to spend the summer working for the Kenyon Review!
half way done with college, home and safe in the chlorophylled center of michigan’s palm, okay.
I ate two kumquats and just have one final exam left so we just gotta power through, kids.
I don’t know who the kids are, but they get it.
Prof: You have to write this essay about more than one text, bring the works in discussion with one another.
Me, setting up three books across from one another at a mini dinner table: I got it I got it shhh...
Me, after pouring them all glasses of wine and setting out a nice cheese selection: Talk to each other, guys.
claireoleson reblogged
A poem I recently had published by Zetetic Record.
A poem I recently had published by Zetetic Record.
small scales
through the window’s glass I catch the picture: blackberries cupped in the inhale of a milky-ceramic bowl.
I spend a few seconds mistaking them for dots of caviar because this house is so nice, because they don’t seem to start or end but mill their dark globes across eachother’s chests — close enough together to trade bodies like clouds swapping weather.
I crack the black eggs and suggestions of fish flash in my head, a pocket-knife clicking open, flanks of silver slicks turning their skin to metal on the light.
then the glimpse of a sleepy blue sheen waking on the dark fruit drains the moment of its ocean; blackberries.
blackberries in the small bowl looking like fish coming on. from here, water is just another word for change. I put another shred of push into my bike and it goes,
away from the window’s false eye and I wonder what else in today could flash open with blue and switch its biology from behind the glass.
- c. essington
haven’t posted in a while but today I won the Propper prize for poetry at my college and also I got a nice coffee so