April 2011


..View Issue

Vol. 2, No. 2

Writers:

Earl Bradford – Mother’s Against Procreation

Ryan Daly – Shooting Star

Felix Perry – Last Summer’s Rose

Daniel Gillis – Amnesia of a Palimpsest

Darcy Helkenberg – a place on hollis

Scot Jamieson – Advocate’s counsel

Amanda Jendrick – Geraniums

Heddy Johannesen – Endless winter

Riley Jones – Reform

Sarah Kester – I won’t give up.

Joanne Light – Arctic Interlude

John Wise McLeod – L

Martha Mutale – Knew Him For A Minute

Sara Saddington – Defining

Mary Ellen Sullivan – A Good Drunk

Christine Beevis Trickett – Nature’s bright ideas

Wendy Watkinson – Next to You

Kristine Webber – Howl at the Moon!

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Mother’s Against Procreation
Poem by Earl Bradford

Serpents Infesting dark world circumference
Nocturnal Ironies of some Bithynian Cobbler…

Third Millennium engulfing
World of Six or Seven
Billion Human minds – grotesque
Carnivorous Darwinian tragedies
Entangled daily on television screens
In technicolor riot upheaval
For purpose of mass – marketing
Of News, or ‘Population Control’ – perhaps?
Decades March along Mechanically
From Fall-out of Cold War Era…

Retreat into Chaos on Fertile Crescent
Where such mythical places such as Eden
Or Babylonia are said to have flourished
So long ago…

Urban Sprawl in China, One Child Policy
An Epidemic spreading west until finally,
Maybe, Capitalism will consume itself.

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Shooting Star
Lyrics by Ryan Daly

The stars and the sun illuminate the moon
sitting out at night thinking of you
The sun cracks at dawn, spreading the light
While I’m dreading another lonely night
The cycle persists and I cope however
knowing each cycle brings us closer together
If the day is strong then the night follows suit
every star I’ll be thinking of you

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Last Summer’s Rose
Poem by Felix Perry

Turned skeleton key in the padlock
Of the wind-weathered oak door
Stepped across the worn threshold
Dropped my gear on rough plank floor

Open up the slighly moth-eaten curtains
Dust mites mingle and dance in golden rays
The family cottage snuggled in beach dunes
Mute memories seem to echo of better days

There on the old butcher block table
I see a book laid open to a certain page
Last summer’s rose lies silent witness
Although dried and blackened with age

Left it, didn’t have the heart to throw it out
Someone’s love offering from time ago
It might have been last summer’s rose
but held a secret only two in love could know

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The Amnesia of a Palimpsest
Poem by Daniel Gillis

Gone, ineffable
Like those sounds I never got to paper
retracted like a lightning bolt

Left to blurred edges and polarized lenses
to remember the frame of mind I found zen in
the labyrinth of narrow streets I got lost in
to end up finding that which I’d forgotten

Marah’s sweet water
anghiari, cascina
evaporated from canvas

That mixture of spices I didn’t write down
and the fleeting lucidity drunkenness found
lost to pulsing distraction, drum and bass,
drowned
Snow covered, that’s how I remember that town

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a place on hollis
Poem by Darcy Helkenberg

on pages of skin, ink set into
vessels, black marks of history &
missing memories, nights spent in
dark glasses, the leather clatter of
conversations, spilt ideas, hands
resting on broken chairs, music
in some kind of distant corner,
yellow smoke & the sound of
wood cracking over the pressure
of falling, it isn’t in the air,
some small hole in the side door,
there is a sense of listening
in the honesty of grey eyes, three
day old facial hair, but when
the clock reaches for closing,
a match book, half used,
lights the last cigarette

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Advocate’s counsel
Poem by Scot Jamieson

Mysteries there are, unholy ghost,
you’re best to let remain unsolved.
The luckier have already lost to
what within their lives evolved.

What trial’s a gift?
The one that gets you
out of prison, into court.
But at your trial, who
began to laugh, and
was found in contempt?

It had to be a joke, you thought:
“This can’t be real!” But will
you be found as fit for love?

That would be when
you’d be set free.
Love gets you out of jail,
and into court, and
into we-shall-see.

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Geraniums
Poem by Amanda Jendrick

My father has gifted hands.
He plants seeds in soil
And demands
That from his toil,
Geraniums grow.

White and docile,
Red like blood,
And fragile.
From rocks and mud
Geraniums grow.

Blooms crowded in tight
Wanting their space
And light.
With storms and grace
Geraniums grow.

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Endless winter
Poem by Heddy Johannesen

I wander through
the quiet
woods

the scent of pine
needles
freshens the air

Above me, a
cerulean blue
sky

I pass spruce trees
laden with
snow

Home
beckons
me near,

I stumble
down the
knotted road

to a dwelling
I know from
dreams.

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Reform
Poem by Riley Jones

Oh pristine bowl which held
.The cities and daring towers
Devised in my ascending hours,
With wooden bricks the colour of youth.
.Entirely, you dwarfed my endeavours.
You threw me into spirals.

Oh earthen bowl which saw
.The wild, exalted beast to wash.
He met my hand deftly.
He was dead set in his liberty, as the water ran
.And spilled out
Consequence be damned.

Oh fragile bowl which cracked
.So soundless in the cupboard’s heat.
The polished glaze of deepest blue
Poised, delicately trembling pieces in
.My palm. You were so light
In spite of my tremendous strain

To feel responsible.
.This fevered memory beneath clay I traced
Trails: found all sides as one
The same, and found my affection.
.Those perfect pieces worth
A white frame, a velvet rope.

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I won’t give up.
Poem by Sarah Kester

I won’t give up. I won’t give up.
I’ll miss your smile, your clear blue eyes.
I gave you up, she brought you down.
But in the end; I won’t give up.
I won’t give up.

I won’t back down. I won’t back down.
I hear your voice, the tremble and falls
I understand that she won it all
But never again, I won’t back down.
I won’t back down.

I won’t watch. I won’t watch.
As she pulls you away, her claws digging deep.
Your soul has become hers to keep.
But this time, I won’t watch.
I won’t watch.

I won’t stand back. I won’t stand back.
You look away, bracing for the attack.
I see the glimmer in her eyes. It’s all part of the disguise.
But don’t forget, I won’t stand back.
I won’t stand back.

I watched her take the best of me.
The best of you, with no mercy.
But after all this time; what is the worth?
I will not back down.

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Arctic Interlude
Poem by Joanne Light

I saw you walking to me
from a winged vessel
like fluid for dehydration it
was understood that
sweet caresses would
follow in some order your
hips paraded
over my mind in
heaps of airborne thrusts as
lust leapt along
the runway—a
steady drip, drip
notion of perfection the
hospital’s blood supply was
short your sugar stuff came from
this giant silver tube like
lube for hungry veins true blue
blood love was somewhere in the
dreams of interns the
runway was cleared wanting
was pi dividing like the cells at
conception this saturation took everything
and the mind crystal of self will
sucked the intravenous
like an art addict, a prism. Pi dividing
served up a piece.
And then, like infinity,
release.

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L
Poem by John Wise McLeod

Let’s hope Vasili Arkhipov
is watching over them.
Waves of Fifty against waves
of earth, water, fire; defying
the devil himself slouched
in that smoldering bottle
at Number 3. Once more
the world balances
on so few shoulders.
But should they win
how soon we will gratefully forget
these gods making time-and-a-half.

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Knew Him For A Minute
Poem by Martha Mutale

I knew him for a minute
I got to talk to him for a little while
It didn’t last long
But most friendships don’t
I’m not quite sure what happened
Not sure I want to know
They all seem nice in the start
But as time goes on
Just like in a relationship or marriage
And things get bad
We want to give up
We say, “I quit, I’m tired of doing everything on my own”
Does it always have to be like this?
Or can we learn to fight for one another?
Work with each other?
Friends fight for each other
I only knew him for a minute
Maybe one day it can be more
I will never know
And maybe that is what’s best

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Defining
Poem by Sara Saddington

At least I have my definitions:

there is freedom in the sidewalk
flexible is sexy
midnight is the hour for howling at the moon
and noon the time for quiet rejoicing

something beats

maybe not yet loud enough to guide the song
but there exists a rhythm

And then a fragile human
is thrown to the ground
and the definitions
shift like an ocean
where no man can possibly be alone.

somehow a pride keeps
shoulders lifted to receive support from the ribs

yet sometimes a grace restores
the muscles to their
metaphorical place
in the mind.

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A Good Drunk
Poem by Mary Ellen Sullivan

You’re my beer,
Babe,
and I just can’t stop
drinking you.
You’re my beer,
Babe,
and I don’t want
to give you up.
Just can’t.

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Nature’s bright ideas
Poem by Christine Beevis Trickett

find my gardening gloves
dust off the trowel
pull out brown-bagged bulbs from
the cold
room
under the stairs
where they’ve spent the summer

in the garden
relish rare rays of sunshine
warm on arms and back

brush aside dry leaves and twigs
dig shallow holes
startle blind worms
squirming in moist dark earth
plant bulbs like tiny onions
for a long winter’s rest

now wait
blankets of white will fall
we’ll huddle inside on cold nights

in a few months
eagerly scan the warming ground
for bright green exclamation marks
poking out from melting snow

nature’s bright ideas

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Next To You
Lyrics by Wendy Watkinson

Sun’s warming my face
Through the cracks in the blinds
Clock’s slow but I don’t mind
If we stay in bed all day
Sky’s a heavy blue
Morning has come and gone
But it don’t worry me none
When I’m lying here with you
And we’ll laze the day away
And in your arms I’ll stay
Lying next to you
Swaying in the breeze
I can hear that old swing
Empty and beckoning
Its age-old melody
Like an ancient tune
We’ll wait until the dusk
When the crickets play for us
In the spotlight of the moon
And we’ll laze the night away
And in your arms I’ll stay
Lying next to you
Oh yeah day and night
I could spend my life
Lying next to you

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Howl at the Moon!
Poem by Kristine Webber

Shall I live for today,
or live for tomorrow,
if yesterday comes too soon?

Though time is the master,
and time is illusion let us always
remember to howl at the moon!

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