Ethel, a Micro Press

@the-ethelzine

Part Gucci part intestinal parasite, Ethel publishes handmade chapbooks, sewn with sword and talon since 2018. www.ethelzine.com 🇵🇸

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Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· 5d

Iris Aguilar’s IN ÁANALTE’, IN PIXAN is available for pre-order. Iris Aguilar is an American woman with mixed indigenous Mexican roots residing in Washington state, USA. She is a businesswoman of many trades, master of none. She has Cerebral Palsy and uses a wheelchair.

Chanlool And The Jade Chair
In Mayab, where Yuum K'iin, the sun patriarch, smiles too proudly upon the people, and where iron and smoke collide with the ancient ways-this land of secrets and unscen beings is where the Aluxo'ob still live.
Long before humans began making a mess of things, the female creators, Xkiichpan Ajawo'ob, and the Creator Lords, the Yuumstilo'ob, shaped the Aluxo'ob, tiny spirits born to care for nature. Yuum Ká'ax, Lord of the Forest, taught them about Meyaj lik' and the joy of mischief.
Across the many moon cycles of the lunar matriarch, Xki'ichpan Ajaw Ixch'eel, the Aluxo'ob learned to watch over humanity. Humans and Aluxo'ob worked together for ages until the conquistadors, táanxelil máako'ob, came and stained the earth red. The villagers began to forget the Aluxo'ob, too afraid of the old ways.
Still, the Aluxo'ob watched humanity change again, favoring the monsters of iron and smoke that devoured the carth matriarch, Xki ichpan Ajaw Lu'um.
Limestone caverns filled with water, called ts'ono'oto'ob, began to vanish, and the Aluxo'ob lost their homes. Many left for the underworld realms of

Xiiba'albaj. Yet one ts'ono'ot remained: the place of Aluxkaaj, near a human village that remembered the old ways and offered gifts to the Aluxo'ob in exchange for help with their milpas.
In Aluxkaaj, the Aluxo'ob became more flesh than spirit. They grew to human height and dressed in traditional garments, and cach had a role within the community. They all played in the forests near their kaaj. leaping among the branches and helping farmers by chasing away thieves
—all but Chanlool.
He couldn't jump between branches. He couldn't chase off thieves, and he couldn't make deals with the human farmers like his siblings did. For the little Alux was born with his legs and feet turned inward, muscles tight and knees crossed by unseen forces beyond his control. His body was unable to obey the commands meant to make him walk on his own, destined to never know what it is like to freely move his legs.
Yet he had something better than working limbs: Xki'ichpan Ajaw Lu'um gave him a jade chair, smooth and bright. The chair could not move on its own, but ki'ichpan Ajaw Lu'um's Meyaj lik' stirred the carth beneath it, carrying Chanlool wherever he wished to go.
This is how he ran with his siblings, the ground shifting under his chair, lifting him toward the treetops, often leaving them behind in their games.

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· 13d

Coming soon: Iris Aguilar’s In analte, In Pixan (My book, My Soul)

Kanulilo'ob of Earth
They don't know they are among us.
They are very special to Yuumstil.
They are disabled and have illnesses.
They are close to Yuumstil.
They are sometimes abused and not seen as we are.
Others have the honor to see us, as we truly are, Kanulilo'ob of Earth.
For some reason, Yuumstil clipped our wings and sent us to earth.
Could it be to suffer our hearts?
I don't know why?
I do know that one day we will return to him,
with headdresses of ya'axtuunich and feathers,
and he will answer our questions.
Why did you make us Kanulilo'ob of Earth?

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· 14d

Tommy Sheffield’s THE WHITE ROOM is now available for pre-order. Get a feee copy of Tommy and john comptons the pain diary when you order! Link to shop in bio and comments. @poetjohncompton.bsky.social

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· 21d

Sending these off to Left Bank Books Seattle!

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· 22d

Some oldies but goodies

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Jul 15

Second run of Eleanor Holmes’ book # MOTH in the works. $5 of all proceeds will go to to Second Step Mental Health charity: www.second-step.co.uk www.ethelzine.com/shop/moth-by...

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Jun 16

INSTRUCTIONS FOR PLAYING BADMINTON by Tana Oshima’s is made and ready to ship! www.ethelzine.com/shop/instruc...

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Jun 14

Going to be binding Tana Oshima’s INSTRUCTIONS FOR PLAYING BADMINTON and getting pre-orders out this week! Link to shop in bio. 🏸 @tanaoshima.bsky.social

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Jun 10

Available for pre-order: Vaghawan Ojha’s THE LOW MURMURS FROM AN EMPTY MOOR. www.ethelzine.com/shop/the-low...

The Low Murmurs of an Empty Moor
I watch the gurgling scream pass through all the nooks of rocks and pebbles
It reminds me of how it swept my father and my mother, once and kept sweeping them again and again and again,
They say, death happens once, but that's a ill
it happens, and keeps on happening for those who still breathe,
The moor outstretches, empty, taking all in, in its gentle breeze like a newfound love,
how it blooms the heart with sweetness, the hope,
reflecting these myriad head of mountains, It feels like sometimes, this moor is all there is, swallowing everything that it sees,
Standing here,
I look forward to the afternoon however,
all it brings is the low murmurs of an empty moor and the smell of death that happened and never stopped;
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Fatigue
You were utterly bored,
I was as dull as lulled by death,
That's where we met,
the time of late afternoon, filled with torpor
we wanted to ride a bicycle, that could take us across the valley perhaps,
When we unmet,
we knew we were indefinite ruins. beyond the measure of chaos and catastrophe;

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· May 27

“he looked like a cartoon coyote she looked like a useless sewing machine” Printing Tana Oshima’s covers! INSTRUCTIONS FOR PLAYING BADMINTON is available for pre-order @tanaoshima.bsky.social

A USELESS SEWING MACHINE
he wrote down her number like he was taking notes in an advanced history class
er nair lookea 11ke a aop that 8 bee amn for three and a half vear
he looked like a cartoon coyote
she looked like a useless sewing machine
the end

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· May 26

France’s Cannon’s BITTEN BY THE LANTERN FLY is now available! @frankyfrancescannon.com www.ethelzine.com/shop/bitten-...

The dogbane beetle mystery
I find this wayward creature far from its preferred habitat or food source.
He's been washed up on a lip of sand at the edge of Lake Champlain, crawling up towards the top of the miniature cliff and falling back into the cool, wet sand beneath. I send you a photo, and you text back, "That's your beetle! Chrysochus auratus, that's the one I've been wanting to show you, the dogbane beetle, it only feeds on the leaves of dogbane. Good find!" The beetle's iridescent shell flashes in the bright afternoon sun—it's almost 100 degrees outgreen-blue head, green thorax, and wing casings transitioning from red to gold to green. There are little bright, white spots on the edge, similar to those of the six-spotted tiger beetle. When I see you in person later that night, I bring the beetle as an offering. We put it under the microscope and I'm bewildered to find that the white polka-dots have completely disappeared. We compare the photo to the physical specimen, and indeed the spots which were very distinct at four-o-clock earlier today are absent now at eight-o-clock. Perhaps they were grains of sand from the beach? No, they're perfectly symmetrical in the photo, three on each side. The case of the dogbane beetle's missing polka-dots remains unsolved.

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· May 13

“foie gras merch” “Wishlist” from Tana Oshima’s upcoming INSTRUCTIONS FOR PLAYING BADMINTON @tanaoshima.bsky.social www.ethelzine.com/shop/instruc...

WISHLIST
frigid air general robinson
5772 dishes to wash last minute insult amazon killer mechanical rubbing yelling tube youtube exorcizer passive aggressive yoga foie gras merch

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· May 12

Will be getting Frances Cannon’s BITTEN BY THE LANTERN FLY out in the next couple of weeks! Order yours here: www.ethelzine.com/shop/bitten-... Cover art by Claire Sage Jorgensen @francescannon.bsky.social

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· May 6

Jon Cone’s THE MENDICANT FELL BY THE STONE FENCE AT THE HERMITAGE CALLED AURORA is now available!! www.ethelzine.com/shop/the-men...

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Apr 27

Now available for pre-order! Tana Oshima’s INSTRUCTIONS FOR PLAYING BADMINTON with cover art and design by Tana. @tanaoshima.bsky.social www.ethelzine.com/shop/instruc...

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 29

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 28

Making Chris L. Butler’s MELODIES OF THE OPPRESSED this weekend! Link to shop in bio :). @clbpoetry.bsky.social

The Engineer's Fire
When I was a boy, a Buddhist monk lit himself ablaze on a 1960s page
of my history textbook. In 2024,
American Airman Aaron Bushnell
self immolates on social media.
Now, we hear the fire in color
we feel the flames flare across his skin as he lets out a shriek
for Palestinian freedom. My wife asks me if this will be the toppling
tower that makes the administration say, Enough-since libraries, hospitals,
and universities did not make the nations say, Enough! One week at work I asked
the board of directors if 30,000 skulls was enough for them to speak against
the genocide. They scoffed at my statistics and dismissed them as myth
which is to say, for them no number will be enough. I'm almost certain
that ever since Aaron screamed
Free Palestine! His mother has cried
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enough gasoline tears, to light up a football stadium from the top row.
A feeling of endless fiery droplets raining down until we all are free

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 14

Putting together full copies of Alexandre Ferrere’s @bluesfolkjazz FROM TOMORROW, WITH LOVE—a book I mailed out page by page last year. A v. limited amt of copies will be available to purchase in the shop once I get all 50 pages made :)

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 13

Will be binding Suzette Bishop’s UNBECOMING over the weekend. You can get your copy here: www.ethelzine.com/shop/unbecom...

Endlessly cycle between Phase 1 and Phase 2.
Phase 2 took forever,
the acknowledgment of chronicity,
implications of
permanent illness,
catalyst for the loss.
Losses rapidly accumulate, and no cure is in sight, the disease process probably already irreversible:
No baking,
No driving on highways,
No pacing while lecturing,
No walking at the park,
No cleaning,
No cooking,
No one over,
physical
disruptions
bleed.
If only you could see the draining energy flowing down the couch where I'm stuck or bent at the kitchen counter, leaning against the wall.
If I drew, I'd draw
that invisible energy waterfalling out of ME.
Identities are called into question,
chronic sorrow,
more loss of material possessions:

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 11

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 9

Jon Cone’s THE MENDICANT FELL BY THE STONE FENCE AT THE HERMITAGE CALLED AURORA is now available for pre-order. www.ethelzine.com/shop/the-men...

Reaching for the trap beneath the sink
I touch the body of a dead mouse
I sip a glass of coffee at a crossroad at dawn
I used to think I knew how to write a poem all of us know how to die
Making lists
I need new work pants but I'll duct tape my boot together
Late-afternoon winter-light fading hawk spiraling slowly fieldward
It is Thursday afternoon
Dear Vallejo -
There's a river of dead saints levitating in your name
The snow the sound of snow & the bells
Ringing the air
Playing chess in the village square snow on the chessboard
I dreamt of oatmeal and blueberries last night
this morning
Hard bread and a thin slice of cheese

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 8

Printing and cutting pages and moth bits for Eleanor Holmes’ #MOTH @eleanorholmes.bsky.social

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 6

Eleanor Holmes’ #MOTH is now available for pre-order! @eleanorholmes.bsky.social www.ethelzine.com/shop/moth-by...

Eggs etc.
Ovum, Larva, Pupa, Imago
know that I was born with my eggs already counted,
poached, bailed, fried, scrambled,
Mother Earth went POP!
i rolled on down the fertile grass towards my resting place, all wy insides, reassembled,
on the underside of a leaf.
Appearance may provide some clues as
to their lifestyle, current mental state, and ability to care for themselves.
When we sat down in that small consulting room, I knew we had met before, but her appearance was altered, dramatically so.

"In #Moth, Eleanor Holmes' hypnotising hybrid of the medical and the magical, the author invites us to be curious, about bodies and personhood, about the constraint of expectations, about the clinical versus the vital, the unfamiliar. What transformation might occur when boundaries dissolve and we are no longer sure who is
'doctor', who is 'patient?'''
--Tania Hershman, author of 'It's Time: A Chronomemoir'
"I love this magical and unique collection. Eleanor Holmes
is an exciting new voice in poetry and I am sure this pamphlet, a fascinating and powerful mix of moths and medicine, will establish her as a name to watch. She Juxtaposes snippets of doctor/patient conversations with beautiful lyric poems focusing on moths in a wholly original and bold

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Mar 2

“Suzette Bishop creates an astonishing tapestry in her long poem, Unbecoming, tracing the illness, ME/CFS, with threads that form a fabric of testimonials, symptoms, advice, scraps…” Suzette Bishop’s UNBECOMING will be released very soon, you can pre-order here: www.ethelzine.com/shop/unbecom...

They way sometimes try to igwore them.
I push myself, find I'm kneeling on the kitchen floor, not able to stand, frost, and decorate sugar cookies for sugar plum fairy waitresses at our favorite restaurant. It was going to be a gesture of gratitude during the holidays. go numb during a walk, my spindle prick.
My legs
After a narying period of time,
Phase 1
patients enter an acade emergency period.
No one sees it. over ten years. for diagnosis,
Patients may live for a considerable fine in crisis,
ME/CFS patients often mait a long time
her ragged hair streams from the revet couch to the floor.
One doctor thinks it's anxiety about my exams,
Another, depression.
Recise little reognition and sapport.
My husband, My Prince, looks doubtful
rather than entranced, some people disappear on Faebook, reassemble around my posts if 1 or my students win something. I can't keep up with their posts. Hopefully maistain their daily fires, conflicting advice and sometimes disbelief frow bealth care professionals.
Nothing shows up in labs, ultrasounds. He to describe their condition to abemselves or others, I say "tired", "fatigued", words at the top of the list for depression, but those words don't really describe it, signal the wrong path to take.

10:45 AM
Blurbs for Unbecoming by Suzette Bishop:
Suzette Bishop creates an astonishing tapestry in her long poem, Unbecoming, tracing the illness, ME/CFS, with threads that form a fabric of testimonials, symptoms, advice, scraps from the Sleeping Beauty tale, and magical thinking. Bishop's mélange of texts harrowingly enacts her journey consisting of disbelief and dismissal from others as well as the betrayal of her own body. "Sleeping Beauty finds webs around her like a cocoon," she notes, and with multiple voices she pulls us into her struggle along with the stubborn resistance from her soul and mind, enlightening us with her wisdom and expressiveness.
—Molly Bendall, author of Turncoat and Watchful
This chapbook was an arrow directly aimed at my heart, and it pierced it through. I cried and in the end we triumphed. The lines in this poem cut deep, but the scars left behind heal, and I only wish I could write so eloquently. Suzette Bishop is a fairy full of magic.
—Cynthia Dougherty-Bernal, author of Looking into
Infinity and Bleeding on the Page
ethelzine.com

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Feb 25

Received Erin Mizrahi’s TO WHAT END from the print shop and will be binding them over the next couple of days. Link to shop in bio. @erinmizrahi.bsky.social

SUBJECT: AS OF 8PM
Erin,
I have just returned home from a most restorative happy hour with the comrades. We engaged in a spirited round of karaoke, Erin.
When I sang "Sweet Caroline," it was like I was singing with another voice, a voice borrowed from the depths of historical rage. It welled up inside me and I had to let it out, Erin. The applause I received was well worth the expenditure of leisure time. It's okay to give yourself a little break. It's okay.
Yours in song,
Nancy
RE: AS OF 8PM
my karaoke song is sean paul's "temperature" but you probably could've guessed that, nance. the first time i went to a karaoke bar i was fourteen and selected "bohemian rhapsody" i was too young to
understand what karaoke was really for. nance, i didn't realize bohemian rhapsody was the song that never ends. during the ten or twenty minutes of instrumental time i began to glide across the stage tapping my feet and moving in a circular motion. it must have looked like some strange dance, but really i was feeling around for a trapdoor. in that moment i felt very betrayed by queen, a band i
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newly loved, and betrayed by my elders who had not prepared me to choose better. someone must have taken pity on me because suddenly the song stopped and "suavamente" blared through the speakers like the antidote we all needed & my slate was wiped clean.
yours, e

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Feb 24

Books available for pre-order in Ethel’s shop including Chris L. Butler’s MELODIES OF THE OPPRESSED, Suzette Bishop’s UNBECOMING, Frances Cannon’s BITTEN BY THE LANTERN FLY and being mailed soon: Erin Mizrahi’s TO WHAT END. @clbpoetry.bsky.social @frankyfrancescannon.com @erinmizrahi.bsky.social

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Feb 21

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Feb 20

Why am I always grieving inside of someone else’s fairytale? More from The Collected About Ethel, which you can order here: www.ethelzine.com/shop/the-col...

Ethel's dagger is a knife made out of flowers.
She is cultivating an asp as she cultivates a Christ.
Praying in the serpent's feld, she walks ltke a many-handed deer. With 1000 eyes, she is wolf-faced in the forest and wears small bells.
("Are there lights shining on these pages?" she asks.
(She can't see past her many thousand eyes.))
If her language is incomprehensible, she rings the small bells and approaches as if in a headlight.
In the orchard, she embroiders a flm which evokes a repulsive igure. "I'm as inconsolable as a relic," she says, then preforms a type of miracle where she digs a small hole and flls it with everyone's butter.
Ethel renounces all sinister flowers.

Ethel, a Micro Press@the-ethelzine· Feb 19

Making more of the Collected About Ethel www.ethelzine.com/shop/the-col...