The first issue of Tim Miller’s new venture, Underfoot Poetry, features six poems by Daniel Paul Marshall as well as poetry from Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia.
the fire festival
men cook muricidae in their shells, on oak
wood fires at the entrance to the marquee
i can hear the small slugs of meat hiss like slow punctures
—the scent of the wood turns my nose inside out.
the residents of Hallim-eup get a coupon each
for a free lunch—no one checks I.D. cards.
the marquee is a thrumming hive— everyone fed
: the female volunteers scoot table to table
like diagrams explaining how to button up a coat
(you’d swear they had 3 lungs, 2 hearts)
delivering bowls of hot bone soup, anchovy noodles
or the popular steamed pork farmed locally
& cooked whole in the back— the ample flesh falls
off bone like parapraxes. thick whorls of steam
scrunch up in afterthoughts from bubbling pans
which saturate the tent with warm & smell.
from clinked bowls of makkoli or soju glasses
puddles form & shirt…
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