We WomenStefanie as the wench:Get off your high horse& fight me like androgyne.Dear body, I amthe kingof my ownlife.So, I suggest sandwiches,variety is guaranteed.Index: nostalgia,Mayday Parade,sisters camp.Dear Jennymise en sceneDear Jenny.Julia considersleavingthe house.Storm watch (no outlet).Julia rides the busalong Lake Erie.Julia poaches an egg.Apology.American Vomitoria
These ILK TEN responses have actually been making us want to get out of bed in the morning, they are such waves of awesome crashing on down. This time, Lindsey Webb uses Google Translate to reinterpret Abigail Zimmer’s ILK TEN poem:
SISTER-CAMP ON LAKE ERIE: COLLECTION, WINE
Bigger than Michigan, you are in parentheses
tossing history. Here it is hazardous to walk
on anything that grows. Shovels program
friction and vine diseases: there is no
prescription. If you cannot catch the fire, count
before finding—I hope you have enough power
or more light. Holes in the map, how many
deployed? Half from home. Drunk at the time.
We otherwise need water because we
are not numbered. Well, if memory
collides, bright. Wait for the results.
I don’t know how much you’ve been thinking about mermaids recently. At ILK those thoughts have been frequent, made even more electrified by this gem we just received from ILK TEN contributor Kat Finch that goes diving with Bronwyn Valentine’s ILK TEN poem ‘Dear Body.’ GO SCUBA:
P.S. You can see Nathalia Perozo’s response to Kat Finch’s ILK TEN poem right HERE.
It’s a sort of translation/transliteration, footnoted thing. I have no clue what to call it exactly. Basically, the footnotes are loosely based on the meanings of the Chinese characters for those English words.
 Heaven, earth, and humanity. Orion’s belt.
 Words that aspire.
 There is contact. Stop and turn around, the grass is silk.
 A dog on guard with raised fur.
 A heart bitten. The question: Where are you going? This boat cannot endure the unbearable.
 Wait until tomorrow.
 Showing head, mane, legs, tail.
 The mouth sobs.
 Streams join.
 A person stands in an assigned position.
 Hand holding halberd.
 We all lift together.
 A picture of a tree emphasizing the base.
 The heart is a conditional.
 Time-consuming plant.
 A sprouting plant. A vase and a sacrifice.
 Working with your mouth. The persistence of a bird soaring with a stone.
 Collection of cooking vessels guarded by a dog, insects stealing rice.
 A sound from the heart.
 Rains arriving as slow as a growing beard. Hands grasping fur coat. Hands girding a woman’s waist.
 A bird rising away from the valley people.
 Speak in a logical order.
 Wood that protects the public. It is subtle work. Shackles.
 Stones break. Sorcerers pray for rain.
 Knife scraping flesh from bone.
It is possible that you have considered what kind of monster ILK would be if it were, in fact, a monster. Cthulu or Kraken. Chimera or Godzilla. Siren or Selkie.
There is Only This One Season
Galileo was the first to ask Whose brain.
I can teach you
about lighter fluid, but
it’s making my brain delirious.
I resent the Internet for telling me
that I am not a plant.
Who do I give this hyper anxiety to?
I dream sporadically of reincarnation.
I wet myself thinking
about the possibility.
In the plural space, machinery is
taught to mimic how a skeleton unbuckles.
An animal dismantles softly,
each taxonomy undoes its seamless structure.
A small impression steams
shirtless and run through with heroin.
I can usually be found
laughing alone in my apartment.
I’ll need it in the original German.
Hopeful for madness,
cover your head with your hands.
What happens if I have compassion on
who we’re fighting?
I snitch on myself in confession,
one night, I follow myself,
who’s fallen from her aircraft
like the classical music station
fucked into cheap thunder by static.
Anna wanted a hospital.
Wanted a handgun and a
shooting range, the target
to be a grey wolf turning blue.
No. I don’t care anymore,
my untrained sympathetic vibrations
a spear in the pool.
Then I would really start to roar.