Wednesday, 29 November 2023

Few Good Things by Thomas Zimmerman

Like tiny lights by Jolene Knapp from Flickr


A sluggish walk in dewy woods with Ann

and Trey, who nearly snagged a fresh-dead bird.

The sun burned off some brain fog, thoughts began

to breach, and then submerged without a word.

Unshowered, stubble-chinned, I had a bad

night’s sleep: Trey licking, barking in his dreams.

Or maybe it was me, poor poet sad

enough to nurse his ironies and memes.

And now black coffee’s coursing through my wan

and tepid blood, spring-gleam in glacial shade.

Yet ennui clings like moss, chill hanging on.

Not hard to see how few good things get made.

How long this search for beauty, truth, gods’ signs?

Ad infinitum? No, just fourteen lines.

***


Thomas Zimmerman teaches English and directs the Writing Center at Washtenaw Community College, Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA. His latest book is Dead Man's Quintet (Cyberwit, 2023).  https://thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com/


Sunday, 19 November 2023

La renarde de Cathy Garcia Canalès

 

La renarde de Cathy Garcia Canalès
 

 

Elle songe la belle renarde, elle songe, juchée sur la lune a son amant coiffé comme un poisson, aux banquises cosmiques, au champagne, aux pattes de poulets et aux dents de lion. Elle songe la belle renarde vêtue de rouge à son sac usé de secrets et aux mystères bridés de son extrême Orient. Elle songe à la flamme dans la froidure de l’hiver et contemple la grande débâcle de son cœur.

***

Tuesday, 7 November 2023

Landscape for Posterity by Fabrice Poussin



What will those scientists think
in a thousand years when they come to
the buried grounds of northern Texas.

They once found dinosaurs
arrowheads, sacred grounds and
great artifacts in those lands.


The great sequoia and giant redwoods
today dwarfed by the unlikely metal
to save a green earth with steel wings.


What will future archaeologists say
when they discover the ruins of
electric powerhouses and rusted cans?


What an odd excavated land they will see
in the same delight that was once Darwin’s,
at the food of ancient wind turbines.

***

Poussin is a professor of French and World Literature. His work in poetry and photography has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and hundreds of other publications worldwide. Most recently, his collections In Absentia, and If I Had a Gun, Half Past Life were published in 2021, 2022, and 2023 by Silver Bow Publishing.

Sunday, 5 November 2023

Ramble by Texas Fontanella

 

 
***
 
A wealth of Texas Fontanella's work is available in the Otoliths archives. With Brandstifter, they have a book, Black Shores, available through Red Fox Press.

Saturday, 4 November 2023

A cyberpunk poem by Volodymyr Bilyk

 

It's a machine-generated text redesigned to become human-like for machine-detection algorithms. And then I ran it through semantic analyzer to get it all crayoned to hell.

Wednesday, 1 November 2023

Pre-dawn by Steve Klepetar

 

Photo by Artur Mordvinov form PxHere





If I were to see you again,
walking across the little
country road on your way
to the neighbor’s farm
to buy your milk, if I saw
you there, ghostly pale
in the pre-dawn,
what would I say, now
after all these years?
The guy who killed you
died by careful suicide
because his woman cheated
on him and he wanted
to leave a beautiful corpse.
So I’ve been told.
I imagine the theatrical
courtroom like something
from a TV drama, young
lawyers braying, gray judge
leaning on the bench.
All ghosts now,
the living and the dead.
If I could call you back
to substance, reframe you
from this vague dream,
where would you ride?
Would you wander off
into the remaining woods,
your black dogs come back
darting around your heels in joy?

Tuesday, 31 October 2023

Polka dots & mung beans by Mark Young

 

Close up of carousel horse with merry-go-round at the amusement park by Jill Wellington on Free Stock

More & more the
backyard is beginning
to look a lot like
the Vegas strip with
casinos, hotels &
restaurants. The hustle-
bustle factor drives us
all. Our pedigree
Samoyeds—tutti i nostri
cani discendono da linee
di sangue prestigiose

determine the rotation
speed of a merry-go-
round in the one corner
that still has green in
it; in another, a small
band of sushi sous-chefs
watch a rerun of the
Giants-Redskins game. I
settle down in a comfort
zone somewhere amongst
the slot machines. The
waitress brings a tray
of truffle oil which I
drizzle over the spandex
that surrounds me. Kids
capture it on video,
will add the music later.

***

Mark Young was born in Aotearoa / New Zealand but now lives in a small town in North Queensland in Australia. His most recent books are with the slow-paced turtle replaced by a fast fish, published by Sandy Press in May 2023, & a free downloadable chapbook of visuals & poems, Mercator Projected, published by Half Day Moon Press in August 2023.

Monday, 30 October 2023

Xoxo de Jan Bardeau

The Earth from Apollo 11, NASA on Flickr


L’engin spatial de XoXo, en forme de tube de dentifrice, filait une trajectoire incendiée dans l’atmosphère terrestre, il suivait la procédure d’entrée sans faille ni heurt, lorsqu’une rafale de détonations en secoua l’arrière, endommageant une partie des systèmes de navigation. Le vaisseau, dès lors, vrilla, le pilote automatique s’affola, s’embrouilla, se mit en veille pour considérer posément la situation et XoXo, le Lolypop de la planète LOLyPOP, s’apprêta à subir le choc d’une arrivée plus extravagante que celle planifiée. Boum et boum et reboum et beaucoup d’autres boums, tous très forts, vitrifièrent la ville de Podoranginskiy, autrefois célèbre pour ses fabriques de lotion capillaire à base d’essence de perlimpinpin sauvage et des résidus après distillation de l’eau de Saint-Glinglin, breuvage réputé parmi les ivrognes les plus suicidaires d’entre nous. On s’ébahira, on en gloussera pour les narquois, qu’une civilisation aussi avancée que celle de LOLyPOP ne fabriquât pas de plus robustes véhicules, car les déplacements dans l’espace tendent au voyageur d’innombrables pièges. La placidité des Lolypops, qui n’anticipaient ni ne planifiaient jamais, expliquait cela pour une part, leur épiderme extraordinairement épais, les rendant presque indestructibles, en représentait l’autre part. L’apparence des Lolypops, du point de vue de bêtes aussi fébriles que les humains, les desservait et défavorisait une rencontre centrée sur l’hospitalité ; en effet, le curieux se heurtait à la masse de quelques trois à quatre tonnes d’un corps marron lisse en forme de tonneau soutenu par quatorze pattes trapues sillonnées d’aiguillons acérés et qui se prolongeaient en trois griffes rétractiles d’une longueur moyenne de soixante centimètres et deux pouces, surmonté, côté antérieur, d’une tête cubique dont la base accrochait par un cou cylindrique grêlé de pointes au reste de la carcasse et qui s’ouvrait sur chacune des autres faces d’une gueule garnie de crocs prodigieux qui suintaient une bave suggérant quelque famine jamais rassasiée, le sommet, percé d’une vingtaine de cornes, courtes comme fortement aiguisées ; puis, sur le postérieur, une queue nerveuse qui balayait sans relâche l’espace et en déblayait tout, veau, vache, cochon, couvée, voiture de police.


Les Lolypops sont d’un naturel très joueur, ils s’ébrouent par groupes de cinq ou trente dans les steppes dont ils sont originaires et s’amusent à toutes sortes de frivolités, inventent des règles pour le plaisir de les changer et regardent pour très irrespectueux envers leur semblable de chercher à leurs jeux une issue qui le dévaluerait, tous fuient obstinément la victoire et leurs parties ne s’achèvent que lorsque quelqu’un en propose une nouvelle ou quand les attentions se portent vers une source plus attirante de divertissement. Le professeur Nestor Notabilis, dans une étude célèbre, Inclinationem appetitus in quibusdam vicinis ignobilis auctor galaxia, nota que cette humeur plaisante s’exprimait en outre par un goût très marqué pour l’exploration et l’invention. Lorsqu’ils ne s’égaient en quelque récréation, les Lolypops apprécient tout particulièrement de se prodiguer mutuellement d’intenses câlins et cajoleries, dont ils raffolent. Leur cuir si coriace, s’il les protège efficacement, interdiraient tout plaisir sensuel sans toutes ces quenottes et cartilages pointus qui les bardent et qui leur permettent de se gratouiller et se mordiller et se peloter gentiment.


Les gens en uniforme, autour de XoXo, jugeaient quant à eux son éradication nécessaire et s’y employaient. Leurs armes n’y suffisaient toutefois pas. XoXo entreprit de visiter cette planète fort jolie, malheureusement habitée par de frénétiques créatures qui se précipitaient en tous sens et se ruaient contre ses flancs et volaient furieusement au-dessus, autour, partout, avec une insistance irritante. Voici donc : les peuples des nations ne s’entendirent pas, leurs armées s’engagèrent violemment dans la lutte contre le supposé envahisseur extraterrestre, la cohue fut telle que les divers protagonistes, sans efficacité contre XoXo, infligèrent aux troupes d’autres bords des pertes significatives, les esprits s’échauffèrent vite dans un monde qui s’armait massivement depuis si longtemps, les dommages collatéraux engendrèrent des échauffourées plus volontaires, puis des batailles bien rangées, le conflit devint total, personne n’y comprenait rien, le sang abreuva une fois encore les puissants, sans pouvoir en calmer la soif si intense. Des milliers tombèrent, puis des dizaines de milliers, qui se comptèrent bientôt par centaines, les millions s’amassèrent très vite, puis survint l’inéluctable : les amis de XoXo s’enquirent de son sort, constatèrent son naufrage et lancèrent une expédition pour le récupérer ; on opta pour un débarquement en nombre, tellement insatiable était l’appétit de découverte des Lolypops et tout le monde voulant en être. Quelle euphorie se déchaîna lorsqu’ils rallièrent XoXo, qui s’ennuyait pesamment le pitchoun, on se réjouit, on se fêta, on cavala de concert, on batifola. Les humains craignirent l’apocalypse, l’effondrement de leur empire sur le globe, ils lancèrent toutes leurs forces dans une ultime bataille, cela péta et brûla et lacéra et atomisa, les millions de victimes se comptèrent bientôt par milliards, puis par centaines de milliards, puis par milliards de milliards, un carnage qui ne s’acheva que lorsque les Lolypops regagnèrent leurs foyers pour se distraire à d’autres badinages.

Sunday, 29 October 2023

I’m a Rock Climber by John Grey


 

Been thinking about granite,
cliff faces that constrict the muscles,
butcher the hands.
Been seeing myself half-way up the wall,
and realizing how it never was about
getting off the ground
or making it to the top
but being somewhere in between,
feet fumbling for steady rock,
fingers gripping ledge
or rope or piton.
Been imagining myself out of this house
and up there somewhere
every chance I get.
Been wanting to put myself in danger
ever since there's been all these people –
family, friends, lovers –
who think they’re tossing me a lifeline
just by being in my life.


***


John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident,  Latest book, Between Two Fires,is available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble.

Saturday, 28 October 2023

La douceur de la cage de Cathy Garcia Canalès

 

Douceur de la cage, collage de l'autrice
 

Dans le sang, ça coule encore les rêves de voyages inaccomplis, les blessures ancestrales, les parents disparus, les petites coupures à l’âme. Besoin de panser la tête, d’arrêter de penser. Coton, douceur, sparadrap, le rêve d’un cocon, d’un nid, d’une maison, un nid pour deux, un nid avec elle, la belle, dans lequel il se laisserait bercer, où il accepterait de montrer sa fragilité. Un rêve de couple parfait où Cupidon est un beau bébé aux fesses rebondies. L’amour tout doux et tranquille comme un chat endormi. Une petite maison bleue, un rêve oui mais la peur aussi, la peur de la cage qui se dissimule derrière, la cage où l’oiseau sera pris.

***

Tout : http://cathygarcia.hautetfort.com/

Art : https://gribouglyphesdecathygarcia.wordpress.com/

http://materiossagesartnaturel.hautetfort.com/

http://ledecompresseuratelierpictopoetiquedecathygarcia.hautetfort.com/

Conseil littéraire & aide à l’écriture : http://cathygarciacanalesconseil.hautetfort.com/

Association : http://associationeditionsnouveauxdelits.hautetfort.com/

Photo : http://imagesducausse.hautetfort.com/

Friday, 27 October 2023

Separation Opportunity by KG Munro

 

New York Skyline by Nacho on Flickr

Dreams of freedom force her awake As she runs from the obvious That her happiness is somewhere away From her family and their dysfunction  But she doesn’t have the strength to walk Out on them and face her fear of separation  Of the pitfalls that come with being alone  Until a letter comes through the door She has been given a seven-year contract In the city of New York, the Big Apple,  An opportunity to free herself from this  Rotting rope holding her against a sinking Boat that has been drowning her for years.

***

K.G. Munro is an author and poet who has been published in over 100 journals across 8 countries. 

Wednesday, 25 October 2023

At Goat Hollow and Other Poems By Wilda Morris. Review by Carole Mertz

 

Cover of Wilda Morris' At Goat Hollow and Other Poems © Kelsay Books

This latest collection from Wilda Morris covers a lifetime. It lauds an important person in Morris’s life. It also gives glimpses into the life of the poet herself. Ms. Morris, her sister, and her mother resided, in a time past, in the same country house with Norman Weber and his wife  
Irene. Many of the poems address Norman or arrive in Norman’s voice. Morris presents the collection as a Memoriam to her cherished uncle and his wife.  

Morris wields a strong poetic hand. She offers poems in free verse, but also scribes in refreshing forms that intrigue the reader. Not many poets, these days, offer the bouts-sonnet form. We find this form in “At Uncle Norman’s,” its end-words matched to a sonnet by Milton. A pantoum opens the collection. Other poems include epigraphs from renowned writers or borrow opening lines from them. A “Spoon River Poem” also appears.
Especially informative is the poem “Norman Explains Himself after Reading an Encyclopedia Article about the Four Elements.” In “Air” the verse begins with “My life opens and shuts / like wings of a bird.” A line from “Earth” asks “Why work indoors in fall when earth / is a picnic blanket of bright colors…?” “Water” offers a sad line concerning Norman’s deceased nephew. From “Fire” we read “I am the fire of sun / and star, lover of daylight and night sky / and the kinetic energy of children.” It’s a marvel how Morris brings Norman’s personality forth into her pronounced and poetic daylight. (p. 75)
At the close of the collection, we feel we’ve lived a portion of a mid-westerner’s life, a very American life of the first half of the 20th C. It’s a special life rooted in the earth and the raising of vegetables and beloved goats, the careful care of children, the respect for elders, a very rural  style of country cooking, humor, and more.  We discover strong elements of Norman’s character in “Prehistory of Johnson County.” (p. 60)

The quartzite and granite on the railroad bed
were not part of the land’s story
before white folk settled the prairie, // 
the stones hauled in from elsewhere
for drainage and ballast
around the ties stitching
the long surgical cut
across Mother Nature’s belly. 
Uncle Norman taught us not to wound the world,
But to love and study it. 

In At Goat Hollow and Other Poems, it’s obvious poet Wilda Morris took Norman’s precious  words to heart. The charming volume is a near-cousin, in verse, to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s  writing. Without slipping into sentimentality, Morris honors her relative in a finely shaped and  memorable collection.

At Goat Hollow and Other Poems By Wilda Morris Kelsay Books, 2023 9781639803385 102 pages, $23.00

https://kelsaybooks.com/products/at-goat-hollow-and-other-poems

 ***

About the Author: Wilda Morris is past president of both the Illinois State Poetry Society and  Poets and Patrons of Illinois. She chaired the Stevens Manuscript Competition for the National  Federation of State Poetry Societies and has led numerous poetry workshops for children and  adults in various States. She is the author of Szechwan Shrimp and Fortune Cookies (Rockford  Writers Guild Press, 2008), and Pequod Poems: Gamming with Moby-Dick (Kelsay Books,  2019). Her blogspot(/http://wildamorris.blogspot.com/) offers a monthly poetry challenge to  contestants.  

About the Reviewer: Reviews by Carole Mertz appear in Bangalore Review, CutBank, World Literature Today, ARC,  MER, and elsewhere. She is the author of the collection, Color and Line (Kelsay Books, 2021)  and the chapbook Toward a Peeping Sunrise (Prolific Press, 2019). Carole is Poetry Editor of  The Ocotillo Review. http://carolemertz.com/

Tuesday, 24 October 2023

Some Saturday in Otavalo by Lorraine Caputo

Lechero by _Ushuaia on Flickr


 
Atop a hill far
from the crowded market,  
a thin rain begins to fall  
upon the group gathered
around a fresh grave

***

 

Wandering troubadour Lorraine Caputo is a documentary poet, translator and travel writer. Her works appear in over 400 journals on six continents; and 23 collections of poetry – including In the Jaguar Valley (dancing girl press, 2023) and Caribbean Interludes (Origami Poems Project, 2022). Find out more on her blog, Facebook page or Instagram:

https://latinamericawanderer.wordpress.com/ 

 https://www.facebook.com/lorrainecaputo.wanderer

https://www.instagram.com/lorrainecaputoc

Monday, 23 October 2023

XIII: Death (Smith-Waite Tarot) by Marie C. Lecrivain

Tarot card from the Rider–Waite tarot deck, also known as the Rider–Waite–Smith deck.


 
The King is dead.
Long live anarchy!
But it’s not to be. 


You’re here to cull the fluff;
your ego, the uncertainty,
your deep desire
to be the authority -
all of it. Your conditioning,
in the guise  
of a papal rapist,
holds his gloved hands up
to receive the mercy
he believes he deserves. 


Your lipless grin
stretches across the horizon.
When you wake,
you’ll feel disoriented
and slightly foolish,
after all, what is death
but an endless dream?

 

 Marie C Lecrivain is a poet, publisher, and curator of two literary blogs: Dashboard Horus: A Bird’s Eye of the Universe, and Al-Khemia Poetica: A Women’s Art and Literary Journal. Her work has been published in many journals worldwide. She's the author of several books of poetry and fiction, and editor of Ashes to Stardust: A David Bowie Tribute Anthology (2023 Sybaritic Press, www.sybpress.com).

Saturday, 21 October 2023

Beakful is back. La bécquée est de retour

 

 

You can now send your work (poems, short prose, opinions) or your illustrations @ beakful at gmail dot com

See guidelines on the right-hand side for more information.

***

Vous pouvez désormais proposer vos textes (poèmes, prose courte, courts billets d'humeur) ou vos illustrations @ beakful à gmail point dom

Voir sur la colonne de droite pour obtenir plus d'informations sur quoi envoyer.