By Nathanael Jones
A shallow depth of field produces flames in a dimmed distance, harlequin patterned jit or juke, footwork…
Explore Poems: Photography & Film
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- By Rochelle Hurt[all my exes agree i’m too sensitive. inside i’m keeping track of slights on one long receipt, a diaristic…
- By Nick MakohaSAMO© first appears as a tag on a New York
City wall in 1978 two blocks down from Aswad
bookstore… - By Elise PaschenLily Gladstone confides she wore my great
grandmother Eliza’s blankets in three scenes.
I don’t remember… - By Michael PalmerI know a silent movie star named Jane.
She speaks without moving her lips.
She once starred in a film … - By Robert HaydenAt Dunbar, Castle or Arcade
we rode with the exotic sheik
through deserts of erotic flowers;
held in the… - By Josh BellKung-Fu, a couch, and I might reach
emptiness tonight, stuck on that Midwest
hoo-doo, counting cemetery… - By Louise ErdrichAugust and the drive-in picture is packed.
We lounge on the hood of the Pontiac
surrounded by the slow… - By Langston HughesThe Roosevelt, Renaissance, Gem, Alhambra:
Harlem laughing in all the wrong places
at the crocodile … - By Jean ValentineHe was shoveling sand
at the edge of the water, his heavy black glasses
glittered with rain:
"Don't you… - By Major JacksonThe screen's fabrications remain. A film
shot never fails, sailing through the century
like a black V … - By Douglas KearneyWas Him, once fini, on the beams,
prior, He's hewer of thorntree.
Could stretch tilapia and ewer,
dole … - By Timothy DonnellyAnd though we had fed long and well at the table
the talk always turned to whether to go on
regardless… - By Rita Dovelate, in aqua and ermine, gardenias
scaling her left sleeve in a spasm of scent,
her gloves white, her… - By Madeleine CravensBehind the decrepit hospital,
next to the jetty, you paced the shore
with your camera. Red gym shorts and Nike
slides, your dark hair in a low bun.
It was your job to document the beach
before its demolition, and once, in a fit of... - By Madeleine CravensWe sat in the narrow plaza filled
with metal tables by the construction site.
It was warm, around 5 pm, one of those
evenings after a long winter where
the city seemed to be anxiously flowering.
Several acquaintances rode by on bicycles.
There was a line... - By Mike DoughtyHe was jailed for cruelty to insects, and his agent wasn’t answering the phone, so he stayed awake in the cell all night, pictures jumping around his head of the cops and the blowdryer they took as evidence. He used...
- By John MurilloFor me, the movie starts with a black man
Leaping into an orbit of badges, tiny moons
Catching the sheen of his perfect black afro.
Arc kicks, karate chops, and thirty cops
On their backs. It starts with the swagger,
The cool lean into the... - By Paisley RekdalHow horrible it is, how horrible
that Cronenberg film where Goldblum’s trapped
with a fly inside his Material
Transformer: bits of the man emerging
gooey, many-eyed; bits of the fly
worrying that his agent’s screwed him—
I almost flinch to see the body later
that’s left its... - By David RoderickI wear a flower in my lapel.
I like the sweetness of its lie in my nose.
A carnation, the fool’s flower,
its heart a wilting empire.
In late-night editing sessions,
I imagine I’m planting flowers
in the sockets of eyes. Whatever helps
me reach our rigor...