Art
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Venice’s Relentless Tides
Fuck whoever is behind the crossbar.This is not about who was crucified and why. This is introduction to Western Civilization. Read the syllabus, do the work or you’ll nevermake it out of the auditoriums.This is not a safe space. This is the world you aspire to inherit in all its glorious horrorsa British Museum of… Continue reading
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Venus v. the Barbarians
I’m reading Bill Lavender’s book of poems, City of God, which combines commentary on our modern world and his thoughts on Augustine’s old book. at the same time I have found a blog, Via Negative, which frequently speaks to or shares images of the ancient Venuses whichever on my own mind of late. And somehow… Continue reading
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There is a light somewhere
“There is a light somewhere.”Charles Bukowski, “The Laughing Heart* How to write or paint the dark from the bottom of the tar pit of anthropocene extinction without resorting to the calling bottle of Poe-etics? When you remember spirits as disparate as Bukowski and Lenoard Cohen can see that glint of light like a star seen… Continue reading
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Crouching Venus, Hidden Tiger
The fallen strand of her coiffed hairdeliberate imperfection excuseperhaps to reach to fix it in subtle invitation not modern voluptuoussmall breasts but not childlike oversoft rolls of flesh a grown womandesire incarnate in a body that’s knownfeast’s pleasure and the aftermathof lust stretched and shaped intoan accessible goddess surprisedbut not alarmed by your arrivalThis is… Continue reading
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A Limited Number of Miracles
This poem is inspired by Jonathan Penton’s excellent book A Limited Number of Miracles from Lavender Ink (2025), in which each poem is inspired by a piece in the Bestoff Sculpture Garden at the New Orleans Museum of Art. It’s not just that fhey took Hercules down in front and moved him to the sculpture… Continue reading
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EL JOROBADO
EL JOROBADOBeen living on the outskirts. My leather bag of sweet corn, my cane of resentments. Been taking my time, my proper salutations to the Hood, this deep embarkation toward you, hermana-remember me?Day one: when you introduced me to your servants. Day two: when you guessed at my deep accent, the one you said was… Continue reading
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The catalogs and the particular
One problem with leaving school is that I have no one to ask if the meticulous catalog of Marianne Moore’s poem “People’s Surroundings” (and many others, but this poem in particular prompted this thought) influenced Gertrude Stein’s odd inventory of the particular, so as to break intricate verse into a new geometry of the modern… Continue reading
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my mind is a mobile
my mind is a mobile, by turns Calder or crib, measuring the Brownian motion of a furiously idle mind Continue reading
About Me
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Trampoline, Unlikely Stories, Peauxdunque Review, LMNL Anthology, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
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Well Bottom Blues 