Magazine
What to Do After You Don’t Die on the Table get up write a few things down shake thinking they missed something.
About the Author: John Dorsey is the former poet laureate of Belle, Missouri and the author of Pocatello Wildflower. He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com.
Image Credit: “Operating room – eye institute” Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
Homage to Jim Harrison The grackle with its blue head dunks violently his beak in the bird bath while chickadees and starlings battle the squirrels for sustenance. Cars power by here in the city and squirrels rush the street for lack of places to run. On the porch with my one-eyed dog, I run my weathered hand on his head and search fruitlessly for the Zen moment like Jim Harrison's dogs betray their owner's point of view. I keep his grizzled nose pointed at the source and breathe in his wisdom.
About the Author: Rusty Barnes lives with his family and a horde of cats in Revere MA. His work appears widely, and his most recent chapbook is DEAR SO & SO.
Image Credit: John James Audubon “Purple Grackle” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
Day -hab driver I pick him up from his day hab program he is smiling but I give him a Tylenol because it is raining and I don’t know what to expect On those days Elvis, the Beatles or kidz bop? I ask him praying it’s not the last one A horrible station where they auto tune kids singing bubble gum pop songs he chooses the Beatles and smiles when I sing along to day tripper We turn on South Main Street not far from The whataburger where I gave the drifter who approached my window seven dollars His left eye looking straight at me his right eye a one way ticket out
About the Author: Melanie Browne is a poet and fiction writer from Texas. She has been published in several anthologies including This is Poetry Volume IV: Poets of the South and Cowboys &Cocktails Poetry from the True Grit Saloon.
Image Credit: Esther Bubley “Bus trip from Knoxville, Tennessee, to Washington, D.C. Looking out of bus window in Tennessee” (1943) Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
17. 07. 2023 From the balcony - empty Taco Bell cups race down the street like hysterical kids. Hollyhocks thrash against one another in the wind. Summer is sick and I run my finger along the balcony rail, feeling the tender warmth from the lingering touches of sunshine. When the storm arrives, I am far too interested in watching it unfold to care about what’s been. I want nothing more than for change, to always feel this way.
About the Author: Gwil James Thomas is a poet, novelist and inept musician. He lives in his hometown of Bristol, England but has also lived in London, Brighton and Spain. His twelfth chapbook of poetry Wild River Carry me to Sea will be published soon by Back Room Poetry. His poems have recently featured in Viper’s Tongue, DLF Lit, Paper & Ink, The Songs From The Underground anthology and Late Britain Zine. He plans to one day build a house, amongst other things. Instagram: @gwiljamesthomas
Image Credit: Herman Saftleven “A Hollyhock” (1682) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
Cast them into the wind We arrive at the shore eroded since we were last here & recite the first line of a prayer water is water is water. At home, my wife puts her hand on my own to stop me from adding too much masala to the pot. After dinner I carry our child, sunburnt & sleepy, to their bed where they ask for a story. There are the things they don’t tell you about grief. It can be the sound of blood running across the sky & also the softest brush of a wing. I get up to turn off the light and put down the book one more chapter? I ease back down gently sweep the sand from the floor & begin.
About the Author: Hilesh Patel is a writer, consultant, educator, artist and member of the art group The Chicago ACT Collective. He was born in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania and has called Chicago home for most of his life. His work has been published in Passengers Journal, Relief Journal, Jaggery and others. You can find him most days teaching adjunct classes, reading, grinding cardamom, and on Instagram and Twitter at @hilesh.
Image Credit: Hugo Simberg “The Wind Blows” (1897) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
YOUR GIFT OF STARS Sic itur ad astra – Virgil for Bruce Around 1 AM we bounced seven miles out a rough dirt Road, through locked gates, into the mountains to arrive At Karen’s uninhabited trailer, which she spent all the Previous afternoon cleaning, then making up a bed we Could use for what was left of the night. She stocked it With bottles of water, freshly drawn from her springs. She showed me how to work the generator, and Pointed out that we would need to pee outside, then She drove down the steep hill to her place, leaving us With flashlights to make our way around. Once we Settled in, you disappeared into the cold air of the yard. I found you gazing at a broad, clear sky dense with stars. Excited, you pointed out the various constellations to me, Especially the ones you could seldom see anywhere else, Telling me some of the ancient stories behind them, How they came to be ensconced in the night sky. It seemed that the new moon had politely excused herself From the scene just so you could index the constellations Then hand them to me with their interconnections revealed, a Gift which I would never have requested, but will never forget
begun 07/01-29/2023 Santa Rosa, CA events occurred the early morning of 06/18/2023 Yorkville Ranch Road, Mendocino County, CA
About the Author: M.J. Arcangelini, (b.1952, Pennsylvania) has resided in northern California since 1979. He has published extensively in both print and online venues & over a dozen anthologies. He is the author of 6 published collections, the most recent of which is PAWNING MY SINS, 2022 (Luchador Press).
Image Credit: Henri-Edmond Cross “Landscape with Stars” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
On Reflection How is it done? In coloured pencils with washes and masks, blenders and frisket film. And if I take your face and mask your eyes, leave them white or fill them with ash, what then? Where will you go when I pull off that frame, how will you round out if I withhold the shading, will water wash on wax and will your skin fall off when I use the eraser on that highlight I left in your hair? The perfume on the tux you wore when you were speaking before your peers is getting old and brackish. The wardrobe is full of past events for which I do not take responsibility. When you wanted your image back it had crumpled.
About the Author: Rose Mary Boehm is a German-born British national living and writing in Lima, Peru, and author of two novels as well as seven poetry collections. Her poetry has been published widely in mostly US poetry reviews (online and print). She was twice nominated for a ‘Pushcart’, once for ‘Best of Net’. Her latest: DO OCEANS HAVE UNDERWATER BORDERS? (Kelsay Books July 2022), WHISTLING IN THE DARK (Cyberwit July 2022), and SAUDADE (December 2022) are available on Amazon. A new MS, LIFE STUFF, has been scheduled by Kelsay Books for February 2023. https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/
Image Credit: Honoré Daumier “Head of a Man V” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
Gloria Mundi I am in title his executor, de facto the chief mourner. He lived his adult life alone but did die with company- a hired tender and me. A man who admitted to fallibility but rarely to vices or wrongdoing, a man so private that I read his past in his papers. I buried and eulogized him and marshalled all the wealth he’d been reluctant to spend, hard earned but not enjoyed, for distribution to strangers. I was perhaps his closest friend and huckster for the indulgences I wanted him to give himself, but now must strew his measure to the unknowing and the greedy.
About the Author: Ed Ahern resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign intelligence and international sales. He’s had over four hundred fifty stories and poems published so far, and eight books. Ed works the other side of writing at Bewildering Stories, where he sits on the review board and manages a posse of eight review editors.
Image Credit: Charles Aubrey “Flower Still Life” Public domain image courtesy of the Getty Open Content Program.
Afraid of Heights Yes, I am, and maybe you are too— vision blurs, stomach turns, ground falls away. Any bridge or ledge, any tall building or tower makes me tremble and Oh, God, never look down! You may slip and fall, you may be drawn into its vortex. Is it fear of falling, or fear of jumping? Might I lose control or welcome new freedom? I’ve thought long on it, but only after, breathless, I am across. Once on a bridge holding my baby in my arms, I shuttered and sat straight down wooden railing at my back. In a glass elevator I melted like candle wax to the floor and stayed for the door’s release. I admit it here, look it in the eye, risk all, and welcome any sweet relief.
About the Author: Larry Smith is a poet, fiction writer, memoirist and editor of Bottom Dog Press books in Ohio. He and his wife Ann cofounded a meditation center in Huron, Ohio. His most recent book is CONNECTIONS: Moring Dew: Tanka.
Image Credit: Detroit Publishing Company “Cliff stairway, High Bridge, Ky.” (1907) Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
Haiku from my Grandmother
I
“Don’t you think we should “eat that stuff now because it “expires in five weeks.”
II
“I don’t need my cane; “I just use my shopping cart— “I shop at Walgreens.”
III
“Did you take your cups “to the sink already or “are they still down there?”
IV
“Did you know that Paul’s “answer for everything is “drink another beer??!?!!”
V
“Don’t you have something “you should be doing today? “Why are you still here??”
VI
“I’m not eating that! “Just what do you think I am? “Some kind of vulture??”
About the Author: G. M. H. Thompson enjoys golden sunsets with fine wine, taking long walks on the beach, & getting to know you better.
Image Credit: Carol M. Highsmith “Kitchen spice pantry at the Joseph D. Oliver House, also known as Copshaholm, in South Bend, Indiana” (2016) Public domain image courtesy of the Library of Congress
As It Ought To Be 