The Pickled Body
Call for Submissions – Issue 3.2: Egg
Deadline EXTENDED: December 9, 2016

“I’m frightened of eggs, worse than frightened, they revolt me. That white round thing without any holes … have you ever seen anything more revolting than an egg yolk breaking and spilling its yellow liquid? Blood is jolly, red. But egg yolk is yellow, revolting. I’ve never tasted it.”

– Alfred Hitchcock

The egg is surreal*. Consider what it is, where it comes from. Wonder whether or not it came first.

The egg is versatile (think metaphor for breast, eye, the beginning, the end; think puns). The egg is volatile (think salmonella). In The Great Gatsby it’s the tail end of East and West. Eat it; on its own – over easy, scrambled, poached – or as part of something bigger than itself – cake, quiche, meringue. It is all things, and it is nothing. And Dali, if you take Picasso’s word for it, had a monopoly on them.

DEADLINE EXTENDED: Send up to three of your best egg poems to thepickledbody@gmail.com by November 30, 2016.  DECEMBER 9, 2016.

*Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision (S. Dali).