Sunday, 12 August 2018

Avis de parution : Calepin paisible d'une pâtresse de poules


Vous l'aviez aimé, voire adoré et bien voilà : le numéro 2 de la collection de poésie postale "Délits vrais" est maintenant disponible en version livre (légèrement remaniée).

28 pages agrafées
ISBN : 978-2-919162-05-5
tirage limité et numéroté
sur papier 90g - couverture 250g
100 % recyclé

10 € +2 pour le port
à commander à
Association Nouveaux Délits
Létou
46330 St CIRQ-LAPOPIE

« Que c’est bon d’être assise là au soleil, pâtresse de poules au sein de toute cette beauté ! Un léger vent, un esprit bienveillant, pose sa main sur mon front. Le sourire est là, à portée de lèvres. Il affleure comme une source, il vient du cœur. Ce cœur à cajoler, à nicher dans la mousse.

L’hiver se meurt, je le sais, je le sens. Ne pas chercher.
Ne plus chercher. Simplement faire de la place pour accueillir. »


textes & photos de Cathy Garcia Canalès


En hommage à Madame Wong
emportée par le renard en juillet 2011
et à tous nos compagnons à poils et à plumes
sans qui la vie ne serait pas la vie


La revue NOUVEAUX DÉLITS -  http://larevuenouveauxdelits.hautetfort.com

Sunday, 5 August 2018

The Rigged Claw Machines at the Mall Arcade by Alyssa Trivett

by Mike Mozart

The sign reads AIM HERE
as utensil claw tongs friend zone
a plushy fish,
barely chalk outlining its fin.
My nine credits on my reloadable card
deduct double.
Instead,
I dance sideways with another machine,
walking out with a plush sushi.
A young couple asks how I was able to win it,
I replied; gunned it to its side,
got it to rollover and stand up,
swiped at it and let it fall
into my winner’s circle bin,
like dominoes.


*****

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. Her work has recently appeared at In Between Hangovers, Apricity Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review. She can be reached at facebook.com/alyssalovestowrite

Friday, 3 August 2018

Veiled by Lynn White

by "Mike" Michael L. Baird


First published in Visual Verse, July 2016

I wear my hair
like a veil
covering all.
Covering all that
is not already covered
and needs to be,
they insist.
But it is not enough.
I can still see
when it parts
and still be seen.
I can still move
freely.
It is not enough,
they insist.
I need the mask
of the broad, blue
blindfold
to tether me,
they insist.
And I wonder,
will this be enough?

*****

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Find Lynn at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynn-White-Poetry/1603675983213077?fref=ts and lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com

Tuesday, 24 July 2018

the seas of drunken greens by Sudeep Adhlkari

Carpet of Moss by Drew Brayshaw


an astral walk along the carpet
of green. its fibers sway
in sines, summoning the ancient
arithmetic of trembling
cleaves on their fragile legs.

the trees thicken inside their own
universe, and melt

with love, as they become
the water of my veins; all green. 

i can hear the whole universe
speaking; from the old
space-time churns, to the cry
of the first wiggle

in wormy hyper-seas. i am
not lost. i am,
where i am always supposed to be.

*****

Sudeep Adhikari is a structural engineer/Lecturer from Kathmandu, Nepal. Also a Pushcart Prize nominee for the year 2018, Sudeep is currently working on his 4th poetry-book Hyper-Real Reboots, which is scheduled for publication in September 2018 through Weasel Press, Texas, USA.

Monday, 16 July 2018

Passing by Stephen Mead

sleepwalk-dreams-subconscious by r.nial bradshaw
At last no recognition,
no glint in the other's eye
for desire & its poison,
only ghost life, glass made
flesh & I drowned as my sister
in fevers quelled, the dear mad
bliss of blankness
for infatuation full
of heart, head, tempests,
perilous, the misplaced
seed, system-sewn, an Oedipus
blindness, an awareness distressed
that kills, kills
while the body goes on
to its own askew melody
being lost out of mind
at a somnambulist's crosswalks.

*****

Stephen Mead: Author Central Page: Visit Amazon.com's Stephen Mead Page and shop for all Stephen Mead books. Check out pictures, bibliography, and ... Stephen Mead is an Outsider multi-media artist and writer.  Since the 1990s he's been grateful to many editors for publishing his work in print zines and eventually online.  He is also grateful to have managed to keep various day jobs for the Health Insurance.  Poetry on the Line, Stephen MeadPoetry on the Line, Stephen MeadWriting, even publishing, poetry, is not something I've ever been able to take much pride in. When a person is...

Friday, 13 July 2018

Datura: Blooming


General submission guidelines for datura literary journal

Send five poems or artwork, three fiction, reviews, essays to mgversion2datura at gmail dot com. Previously published work OK as long as you give publishing background. Simultaneous submissions OK just make sure you tell me if your work is accepted elsewhere.

Write your full name and submission type in the header of your email. Name your attachment with latsname_firstname_title_datura. Make sure the title of the piece you send appears at the top of the page. No more than one poem per page.

Send all submissions in a txt, doc or odt file, attached to your mail. Don't copy/paste as formatting tends to get awkward, and hard to manage afterwards.

A short biography (very short -- essential only: where you are from (city, [state/province], country), a link to your blog/website, your latest publication...) is welcome but not necessary.

Read the former journal mgversion2>datura or the literary blogs Beakful or Urtica, and the books published through mgv2>publishing or Beakful and Urtica to get a sense of what I am used to publishing.

I don't retain any rights, your writing is your creation. You are welcome to cite the original publishing place in case you reprinted your work.

Submissions read year round. Response time may vary a lot. https://daturaliteraryjournal.blogspot.com/

Thursday, 12 July 2018

Alibi by Ryan Quinn Flanagan


Everything is either dead or hibernating,
that is what I like about winter.  No bugs
buzzing off with chunks of your face while you
parade under patterned awning that seems scared of the rain.
Like walking into a Sartre novel and wondering why
everyone has to be the murderer.  Dr. Holmes can take
a holiday with this one.  You just know he has the best
alibi of all, the same way you walk past the perfume ladies
in the department store knowing they will smell
better than everyone else you will meet today. 
Ever seen a purse snatcher huddled in the bushes
in the dead cold of January?  There are time constraints
governed by frostbite. Everything is brought inside.
Smokers and all their cigarettes.  Accusations
over unmade beds.  Plastic chairs for all the plants
to sit in.  In the corner, by a box of old pictures
no one can remember taking.

*****

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review and The New York Quarterly.