Adri Frick

Adri Frick by AdriNovember 1, 2020February 17, 2020

Written in Delible Ink

Reading Time: < 1 minute We set our dead into tidy rows Writing pages of graveyards, even though Whether they’re verses or curses Is known only to those Who can read it from either above or below.

The Thirteenth Floor

Writers by AdriSeptember 11, 2020September 11, 2020

Writers by AdriJune 28, 2020September 15, 2020

Reading Time: 2 minutes Oh, I too want to be a poet! and yet Tell me where is meaning bred In my heart or in your head? Is it in ancestral words or in your presumptions of what’s unsaid in the surrounding static or contextual tapestry that birthed the utterance of a syllable of a what is meaning and is Read more

Writers by AdriFebruary 24, 2020February 17, 2020

Early Morning Victims

Reading Time: < 1 minute Winter light shocks like a crime scene,Stabbing in from the side at a diagonal,Slashing through trees with harsh, yellowed beams. Backdrops become hazy with the blue-gray of old animated cels.Frazzled Cyprus march along the lane,Pushing ahead of distant oak skeletons dimmed by the fogWhile indigo redwoods look back across the valley atThe paintbrush blots of Read more

The Whole Pantheon

Writers by AdriFebruary 21, 2020February 17, 2020

Writers by AdriFebruary 19, 2020February 17, 2020

Rosemary and Time

Reading Time: < 1 minute “But… I mean, what should a parent do for a child with his condition, doctor?” “Well, you see, an antichrist is born every generation or so. It’s very rare, but of course it does happen. In the middle ages they’d kill them, you know, barbaric times. Ever since the 19th century when god died, however, Read more

Let Down

Writers by AdriFebruary 17, 2020February 18, 2020

Writers by AdriJanuary 25, 2020February 17, 2020

Suicide Sestina

Reading Time: 2 minutes “Dying / is an art, like everything else. / I do it exceptionally well.” – Sylvia Plath, “Lady Lazarus” “And four black feet deep with/ Summer’s rotting rooks/ like Thomas Head’s and my time’s/ Unlamented, springless, passed.” – Assia Guttman Wevill, “Winter-End, Hertfordshire” (quoted in Guardian Unlimited. Saturday April 10, 1999) When we first met Read more

Writers by AdriJanuary 1, 2020February 17, 2020

Death of the Author

Reading Time: < 1 minute I’ll write my life into a book,Conveying every blood drop,Each of a thousand sliver deaths,Until its heart beats against its spine. You’ll grip & smudge & bend my pages,Misconstrue every breath and word,As sure as paper turns to ash,As sure as ink will fade.