September 29, 2023 - Aditi Bhattacharjee’s “Cause for pause”
Aditi Bhattacharjee is an Indian writer, currently pursuing an MFA in Writing from The New School. Her work has appeared in Lunch Ticket, Evocations Review, Vagabond City Lit, The Remnant Archive and elsewhere. In her spare time she likes people-watching and city-chronicling.
September 26, 2023 - Aditi Bhattacharjee’s “Silent Letter”
Aditi Bhattacharjee is an Indian writer, currently pursuing an MFA in Writing from The New School. Her work has appeared in Lunch Ticket, Evocations Review, Vagabond City Lit, The Remnant Archive and elsewhere. In her spare time she likes people-watching and city-chronicling.
September 24, 2023 - Rahil Najafabadi’s “Crushed Leaves”
I’m waiting, like the bend of summer that’ll break off
and become one of the days that feels cold but isn’t.
It changes soon, but the bricks stay the same. I need
more flavor, more color, and small candles to fake
the warmth that’s gone. But now we hold each other
to keep each other from the shivering cold. I need a river
of coffee to keep me awake from the winter that is emerging
outside of my quilted shell. I’ll be waiting––for the fog,
the gray mat of thoughts that won’t leave unless it’s cut off.
Long black blobs of wool over me to be fine if I’m alone,
long black boots to keep me away from the frozen ground.
This season is just a box, I’m allowing the isolation for once.
Even if I step on crushed leaves, I’m not thinking about them,
I wanted these humid days to be about the sun when it isn’t orange.
September 23, 2023 - Rachel Coyne’s “Tract”
Rachel Coyne is a writer and painter from Lindstrom, MN.
September 22, 2023 - Rachel Coyne’s “Mist”
Rachel Coyne is a writer and painter from Lindstrom, MN
September 21, 2023 - Aditi Bhattacharjee’s “Lunch with the mystique”
Aditi Bhattacharjee is an Indian writer, currently pursuing an MFA in Writing from The New School. Her work has appeared in Lunch Ticket, Evocations Review, Vagabond City Lit, The Remnant Archive and elsewhere. In her spare time she likes people-watching and city-chronicling.
September 20, 2023 - Bent’s “Darks & Lights”
Someone more musical than myself can describe what’s happening in Darks & Lights . I just know that I love it and wish that it were longer —- a lot longer. I love the way it builds and grows and how listening to it makes me feel like something really big and important and beautiful is just about to happen —- wait for it! This entire album, Bent’s From The Vault 1998-2006 Vol. 2, is a gem. When I was diving deeper and deeper into writing a screenplay back in 2020 (forever ago), I listened to the album on repeat. Oddly, I’d set the album to repeat then begin listening from British Summertime — the perfect song to play over brunch . . . the sun is coming up, press play, and enjoy yo day!
September 19, 2023 - Aditi Bhattacharjee’s “Brooklyn Bridge”
Aditi Bhattacharjee is an Indian writer, currently pursuing an MFA in Writing from The New School. Her work has appeared in Lunch Ticket, Evocations Review, Vagabond City Lit, The Remnant Archive and elsewhere. In her spare time she likes people-watching and city-chronicling.
September 17, 2023 - Rahil Najafabadi’s “One of the Letters You Sent”
Is gone, like the others, but I still kept the ribbon.
There is a bend in the road from where we walked––
the past is not smooth just as it is rough now.
The colors were soft blue and pink and the words
melted away with teardrops and raindrops and time
being spent away from my vision. It’s fine to worry,
but the past does not exist. All I can see is now,
and the unclear window catching some leaves
and nests of birds by the sill. I didn’t want to hear them,
but when I thought it could be you, their song sounded
sweet. So many windows and the birds stuck by me,
only to fly away when I start to love the song at dawn.
September 16, 2023 - Ashley Falla’s “Informed consent permission”
Informed consent and permission form - extractions
Before you give your permission for the removal of teeth, removal of impacted teeth (those that are
“buried” or beneath the gums) other dental treatment, or the administration of certain anesthetics, you
should understand that there are certain associated risks
We will be extracting teeth #(s) _________________________________________
Common risks include but are not limited to:
1. Drug reactions and side effects
2. Damage to adjacent teeth or fillings
3. Postoperative infection
4. Postoperative bleeding that may require treatment
5. Possibility of a small fragment of root being left in the jaw, and its removal, requiring extensive surgery
6. Delayed healing (dry socket) necessitating frequent postoperative care
7. Possible involvement of the sinus during removal of upper molars, which may require additional treatment or surgical repair at a later date
8. Possible involvement of the nerve, including but not limited to the removal of lower molars, resulting in temporary or possible permanent tingling or numbness, or pain of the lower lip, chin or tongue on the operated side
9. Bruising and/or vein inflammation at the site of administration of intravenous medications,
which may require further treatment
10. In rare circumstances, breakage of the jaw
11. As a result of the injection or use of anesthesia, at times there may be swelling, jaw
muscle tenderness or even resultant numbness of the tongue, lips, teeth, jaws and/or facial tissues, that is usually temporary. In rare instances, such numbness may be permanent.
I was given the option of different anesthetic techniques, and I consent for the following anesthetics to be
used:
● Local anesthesia (injection)
● Local anesthesia (injection) with intravenous sedation
● Local anesthesia (injection) with oral premedication (pills before treatment) General anesthesia/hospital operating room
September 15, 2023 - Elizabeth Lerman’s “Mind Mute”
Sometimes, after many minutes, maybe even an hour, I will realize my headphones are in but I have not turned anything on, that I have been hearing myself speak so steadily, and without pause, that there is no silence to circle in on and I think about how constantly I want to quiet myself, how desperately I will lunge to leverage the lack of sound with something loud and relentless so that my mind might be put on hold for a moment, because it feels like, by the time I wake up, I am already depleted by what I’ve dreamed and I am ready for a very long break, some substantial time away from a subconscious that says, okay, come on in, and opens the door for something awful, something that makes the whole house tremble, like it is testing my capacity for terror.
September 12, 2023 - Rahil Najafabadi’s “National Geographic”
National Geographic, Mixed Media, 5 x 8, 2022.
September 10, 2023 - Rahil Najafabadi on Ellen Zhang’s “Semaphore”
I was very excited to read Ellen Zhang’s collection of poems and very happy to see them on Curlew’s Daily. Reading Ellen Zhang’s Semaphore was like embracing the scent of a vase of fresh lilies. I couldn't stop going over the lack of things that create meaning and questioning, with these lines in Semaphore:
“What about unpredictability amid
hope makes you think of connection flights,
swaying of bird cage doors amid
burning houses?” (Zhang 5-8).
Poetry has been always about a song and the echoing sound of meaning that follows. Ellen captures that lingering meaning that is hidden in least common places. The collection of “unpredictability” and the places it takes us in Semaphore, is a visual demonstration of what a beautiful yet meaningful poem does to thinking and to envisioning. The images of “connection flights,” “swaying of bird cage doors,” and “burning houses” fill in the empty space of sound in mind, quite literally and figuratively. Who thought that bird cage doors swaying in hope, yet of itself so suddenly? Unpredictability is hard to pinpoint, but Ellen Zhang lets us see it.
September 9, 2023 - Phil Huffy’s “Reflection”
Humdrum stands the weedy shore,
with its dismal use of shape and texture
representing a cluttered landscape,
perhaps all too real.
Even though the trees lack imagination
and stolid rocks have sat too long to pose,
all hope is not lost when they gain assistance
from their droll helpers, water and sun,
thus bringing beauty to the waiting eye:
color magnified, light celebrated,
images sorted and acclaimed,
with meaning for viewers of their art.
And when night arrives as expected,
the vista is erased as the sun demurs
and the water waits, though sometimes
sparkling in monochrome moonlight.
___________________________________________________________
Phil Huffy had a long career doing something else. Now, he writes early and often at his kitchen table while casting a wide net as to form and substance. His poetry has been published frequently and he has published three collections, including Happy Place, and Magic Words, which is also available as an audiobook.
September 8, 2023 - Elizabeth Lerman’s “You sit in the soundless dark”
Your lighter illuminates several mosquitos circling the bare skin of your chest and you watch for a moment, waiting to see which one will settle on you. You like to slap your hand against them and see if any blood comes out. Two land at the same time. One bites while you crush the other. You wipe the remains away with your finger and scratch at the latest swelling spot thinking, still, you would rather sit out here than in there, where his mother will smell the smoke on you and scowl, say something like, if you can’t stop for yourself, Ruthie, stop for him.
“You know he hates it,” May says.
“Yes, I know.”
“I gave it up when Bobby asked me to.”
“You gave it up when Bobby told you to.”
She smiles, tight lipped, no teeth. “Well, maybe I like to listen.”
“I like to listen. Less fond of obeying.”
“You might be too stubborn for marriage.”
“Good thing you didn’t marry me then.”
“Didn’t I, though?” She laughs loudly and nudges me in a way that is almost sweet, almost soul crushing.
Outside your legs burn with bites from nights before. You play a game with yourself. You sit in the soundless dark and see how long you can go without scratching.
