Vol. 4, No. 2
Georgia Atkin – Blues
Dorothyanne Brown – Post-modern living in sin
Tim Carter – On the Field
Richard Collins – Ephemeris
Beth Enman – Forest
Harry Garrison – Transformations
Cathy Hanrahan – Fading Tulips
Ariel Hopper – Beach Dogs
Emily Krauss – Yoga by the Ocean
Erica Lewis – Running Out
Brittany Mackeen – Guaranteed
Mike McFetridge – Rambling, Rough-shod Rhyme
Jaywant Patil – Wine Magic
Donal Power – Ocean My Mother
Nathaniel S. Rounds – Courtly Love
Norm Sabowitz – Nippleodeon
Elzy Taramangalam – Reading
Wendy Watkinson – Oozing
Tamara Williams – common goal
One day, as I sat,
a not-so-ordinary cat,
I saw a pair of shoes
on a man with eyes of blue.
I could tell he was a ghost,
and asked him
what he wanted most?
He said “Well, I’m not much for greed,
but one thing I really need
is the chance to speak with any human host!”
sighed the ghost.
I raised my eyes and said, “Hey you,
why should that make you feel so blue?
“Maybe speaking human
just isn’t where you’re at,
you can certainly speak cat!”
Seems my boyfriend
lost some mail
and is so sad
Seems they don’t like
if his name
won’t ring the bell.
could I ask you
oh most sweetly
to assist him
Could you put
in the list
with my phone number?
could you put him
on a line
all alone, though
He’s got a wife
who truly hates him
perhaps she won’t
get to know me.
Into the battle
Forged on an open plain
Nothing ever gained
Blood mixes with rain
Puddles filled with pain
The nameless fallen remain
And watching on
Amidst this mess
Standing above the rest
Broad heaving metal chest
Waiting for the ultimate test
Yet still awaits his best…
For a time will come
When it all comes undone
A hero lies broken no longer the one.
There one thick-thinking and bare
And drinking in where a thud
On his yearbook page the lofty shelf
And curling spine of battered film
Tare atop the whittling spinning filth
Sinks in them lot and grinning
Guns for what they’ve got
But got alone and thinning there
Him knotted not aware a spotted
Blotted face or loving care could cleanse
The lonely tear and never near
Between the binding now and dog
Eared kows in where distraction
dresses cares and passion
Glarling back the past his pages
Wrinkled aged and scaled wrapping
Crinkled graying skin he fails entrapped
To passing faceless classes laughing at
In racks of Batik masks
Nameless there and tasking back to
Lasting statik casts
I took the walk again today
The reason why, I could not say
That path I’d taken oft before
Became mysterious once more.
I thought I saw, in sunlight’s glow
A vision of you from long ago
You beckoned from the edge of sight
Then turned, continued, past the light.
I rubbed my eyes, could not believe
That cruelly they would deceive
Footsteps, evidence of you
Did not exist, but still I knew.
You lingered there, in memory’s wake
To comfort me, just for my sake
The times we shared you set in stone
So I would not feel so alone.
Made up my mind, as I always do
I quickly followed after you
While chasing shadows seems my lot,
No one can say that I forgot.
Sometimes the quiet people
become the silent people.
You may think you’re having
a one-sided conversation,
but they are still listening.
Sometimes the sensitive people
become the oversensitive people,
but you should expect that those
who care about your feelings
need to be treated carefully.
Sometimes the idealistic people
become the cynical people,
due to bitter experience.
Yet they hope that, somehow, someday,
their negativity will be proven wrong.
By reluctance of admission
What time has betrayed
Unfair in its acquisition
Twisted and frayed
As a tulip in bloom
Signalling certain doom
Each year with less valour
Until the inevitable demise
Into wilt, then obscurity
Leaving me to surmise
What is graceful maturity?
Mingling on the sand,
their rough paws
and heavy lips convey
your disapproval. Maddened
by our lack of interest
they howl at the sun.
Chasing tails closer
than you’d wish, you
crumple at a thought –
They’re not like us,
you say, and the sun loungers
laugh in unison.
Now it is their time,
you say to feign
disinterest, barking at those
little crabs that scuttle
underground. Will they
re-emerge and pinch us?
you ask, your finger in the air.
It is then before I can answer
that the rains come,
suddenly scattering our
But we are in no hurry,
to face those all-American
dogs and challenge them
for a home.
Poses and stretches
Like the dolphins pose
Are being done by the water’s edge
I look into the sparkling water
And see the shadow of my reflection
In the bright and shining sunlight
And all around is nature
Evergreen trees are in the distance
Waving their strong branches in the wind
as if to say hello
Shells and rocks are scattered all over
the vast and empty coastline
which in my imagination could be
Money that fell out of a passerby’s pocket
Calm is how I feel
Just like I am in a meditative state
or maybe I am in some sort of trance
I hear noises in the bushes.
Maybe a bear or maybe a child’s footsteps
but still I continue to do yoga poses
out in nature
Where I feel one with the land
Touch me like a fallen angel.
Tell me how it feels.
You remind me how miraculous my body is,
how much I want to live.
Time is the angel of death.
Let me go first for
I have no heaven to trade
You are the bearer of my time
and I hold for you, your time
because you don’t see
how it is carrying you away
Walking along the coarse grains
Wind assembles my hair into a dance about my face
With a restless mind barren of thoughts
Waves curl around the smooth rocks
When finally I reach my destination
Worry slips away like a ripple into the blue abyss
This rambling, rough-shod, raking rhyme,
With muscled strokes and broken spline,
Gathers souls like scattered leaves
Ungraciously, while mourners grieve.
Once gaily living on perches high,
Once in the sun, and in the sky,
Then brutal winds, with all its’ scorn,
From stalwart trees, the leaves were torn.
Falling, helplessly to the ground,
What was up, now is down;
Another Winter begets a Spring,
Then everything is alive again!
A miracle, yes! It’s Nature’s way,
If left to Mother, she’ll have her say,
Don’t mess with Mother Nature, dear;
Or you walk in peril, or perish in fear!
Grapes on the vine.
Crushed into sweet juice.
Fine wine of tomorrow.
know that you may be the smallest
of body, but heart-spirit
strong and measureless
as the embrace of struggling sea
tides advancing, one great reach
driven back, the next, rolls on — perhaps
not to engulf all land, never shrinking
to a single salt drop, but
amidst nature’s brutal love, remaining
Mine are fisherman’s eyes, stormlocked to land
lifelocked to you
awe the endless depth and strength
of sea spirit, of Ocean
Chivalry isn’t dead
It’s just in remission
Like a cockroach sleeping
There beneath the stove
In Hell’s Kitchen
And I will gladly open the door for you
While you speed through
Eyes closed to my empty gesture
I will carry your books home
Even though nobody reads books
These days and
I will gladly send a bottle of wine
To your table
Even though you hate wine
And this week only
I will offer you my protection
Even though you dwarf me
With those high stiletto heels
Because despite the common consensus
Chivalry isn’t dead
It’s just a coat we sometimes shed
To avoid the heat
It has been said that Men need nipples
(Also that Women need men)…
“Like a fish needs a bicycle”.
What was intended
On whether it was said by a man, a woman,
A Fish or a bicycle–
“Or by a nipple!”
Piped up the little fellow,
Breasting aside his shyness.
This foolishness apart,
Men do need nipples
For perfectly good
For when a boy
Discovers in this chest-borne toy
The confluence of neurons
That a nipple brings to life,
He logically infers,
If inference lives within him,
That not just his but hers
Will also tingle with electric joy
Tending toward copulation:–
Without which, let it here be sworn,
That neither he, his parents, nor any of mankind
Could ever, ever have been born.
So, fish: get on your bicycles
And have a safe and pleasant ride!
From Leonard Cohen
One can read
Psalms in bed
For a magic cure!
But what ailment
Staying up all night
While the Psalms glowed
In the chambers of my heart.
The secret of longing
Lives in the power of telling
Or living a thousand years in one
can’t move forward stuck in reverse
gun it baby floor it in this world so perverse
pharmaceutical highs like the lure of speed
might as well jam it in baby
cause you can’t control the need
no you can’t control the need
it’s big business and the almighty dollar
turns a blind eye while some live in squalor
never-ending research i.e. the cure for cancer
they keep on looking when they know the answer
yeah they know the answer
big bucks, kickbacks and making cuts
give it up it’s so corrupt
oozing all its guts
victims of progress in this day and age
popping pills to learn how to behave
law and order give us a break
civil wars and pandemonium lie in its wake
yeah they lie in its wake
selling your soul to earn a wage
it’s all about looking good the world’s a stage
money talks and bullshit walks it’s a disease
innocence turned sour in the need for power
cause you can’t control the greed
no you can’t control the greed
we all have a common goal
all will say we want it
some will say we need it…
we all have a common goal
all will say it
all will say we need it
the common goal is peace
the current Way to the peace…
creates an uncommon goal
the common goal is peace
the future Way to the peace…
creates the common goal
violence equals peace?
oxymoronic, ludacris, absurd
bad theory currently in practice
inner peace equals world peace
justifiable, true, harmonious
reality on the cusp of being in motion