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Francesca Bell

The man keeps telling me I’m beautiful. /
I still look young. //

He says it like I’ve asked for it, /
but I don’t care. //

For him or beauty.

Interview: Max Sessner Talks to Francesca Bell

_______________________________________________________________________ US poet Francesca Bell recently interviewed German poet Max Sessner for B O D Y about his work, some of his thoughts on poetry and his upcoming book of poems, Das Wasser von Gestern.   _______________________________________________________________________ FRANCESCA BELL: I’m […]

Francesca Bell

  HOW LIKE A GOD   Making tiny work of what I could not budge, the bear lifted my left-out cooler—so heavy it would have taken two people to stagger it to safety— and slammed it down, snapping its hinges. […]

Francesca Bell

  Letter to the Man Who Said I Stayed on His Brain Like a Hit of Acid That Wouldn’t Kick In   I thought of you this morning, our six years of letters, and the time you kissed me in […]

Francesca Bell

  I, TOO   Chilly times,             all of us hunched                         before flickering half-lives                   […]

Francesca Bell

  REVISION   Each month comes the reminder of the gash God made in me. I like to think He made it with one finger, the way an artist will reach right into a painting and finish it off. Not […]

Friday Pick: Elizabeth Knapp’s “Requiem with an Amulet in Its Beak”

Requiem with an Amulet in Its Beak By Elizabeth Knapp Washington Writers’ Publishing House 2019, 73 pages   Reviewed by Francesca Bell   ELIZABETH KNAPP’s new book may carry an amulet in its title, but it will not keep you […]

Max Sessner

  LEAVING THE CAFÉ   The girl takes the umbrella or does the umbrella take the girl lead her out into the wet evening and touch her softly on the hand seeing them from a distance one thinks of lovers […]

Max Sessner

  SHADOWS   Now the shadows wander into the house they are like grandmothers who look back one more time before they leave us in passing they arrange the flowers in the vases ascend the stairs and are shadows again […]

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