the logic of bones

Tupelo Quarterly Review, Fall 2017

"Once I took a class where we sketched cadavers to learn anatomy. We learned all the bones and muscles, drew them, and then sculpted them from white clay on a wire frame. We molded femur, scapula, ribcage, and then overlaid the skeleton with each individual muscle, inscribing striations with delicate tools. I drew nude model after nude model–fat and skinny and old and young, always looking for bone structure and then working to capture the texture of the skin, the exact shape of an eyelid, the shadow cast by a chin. Years later, and I still see bones. If we shake hands, I will look in your eyes while thinking about your finger bones. " Read more >


Book Review: Exhibition of Wonders: On Eliot Weinberger's The Ghosts of Birds

Essay Daily, December 2016

"Adam and Eve attempt suicide. An owl is stung to death by invasive bees. A 6th century wife dreams her hands are hot as fire. George W. Bush visits the Great Wall of China. These are just a sampling of the historical fragments strung together by Eliot Weinberger in The Ghosts of Birds. His new essay collection (New Directions, 2016) brings together a continuation of the lyric, near-mystical, fact-laden “serial essay” begun in An Elemental Thing (2007)." Read more >

 


Flying Cave Bear

The Los Angeles Review, Spring 2016

"Giraffe saliva is among the best antibacterial substances in the world. It protects their tongues from infection after eating thorny tree branches and the knife-edges of leaves. I want my arms and neck to be licked by giraffes. I want to visit a giraffe at the end of the day to clean my hands and seal my paper cuts. I want its neck to lean against mine­, and feel the blood coursing through its thick vertical veins."  Read more >


Something to do with Evolution

The Rumpus, May 2015

"There was one night when the cockroaches were all out together in a roiling mass beside the front steps. Usually the motion light came on and there were maybe fifty shiny black darts crisscrossing the driveway. But that night it was like someone stirring a cauldron of dead leaves. Not leaves but a million exoskeletons brushing against each other. A hundred thousand crunchy legs rubbing each other. The ground was moving." Read more >

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Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Sheesley