Ode To The Captain Be gone, J. Evans Pritchard, proclaims the Captain, an actor in a movie, confronting another tyrant dad, but too real with his sad smile, who made us laugh even as I dealt with … Continue reading Seyedbagheri M Y – Mir Yashar Seyedbagheri
When I Think “Purple” it is immediately six o’clock, we’re walking the dog, who hasn’t yet eaten whatever it was, you are bruised maybe a little but nothing to signify, I’ve still got both my amethyst earrings. Also the face of the man we found in the old oak out back, the dog sniffing his shadow, the sky radiant and him, gently swinging. THING Her thin, fine spines are invisible in skin. I’ve forgotten again, leaned on my desk as if my life were not currently entwined with a cactus. Leaning on Thing is a bad … Continue reading McGowan Dr J A – Dr Jennifer A McGowan
A selection of reviews from this fascinating and unusual blog. You are guaranteed to find things here which you have never met before! Truly Global Culture Review There’s a whole world out there! I’m looking at two books, a film and an artist from each country in the world. Reviews are SPOILER FREE. New posts Tues & Sat Tété-Michel Kpomassie: An African in Greenland (Togo) Translated from the French by James Kirkup, first published in 1981. I googled Togolese writers, and the first name to pop up was that of Tété-Michel Kpomassie. The intriguing title of this book, published in … Continue reading Gladman I – Imogen Gladman
Romance I was holding my Sunday School teacher, Miss Hooker, close to me in bed last night in a dream. When I woke up for breakfast and to get dressed for church next morning I wondered if she’d had it, too, and figured I’d find out by the look on her face when I came into the classroom, a little late–fashionably late, as Mother says, though I never tell her my dreams because she wouldn’t understand, or maybe she would, and might tell Father, who’d bring it up at Sunday dinner–I don’t like to be embarrassed. Miss Hooker’s a … Continue reading Acuff G – Gale Acuff
Love, Devastated I didn’t want to syphon more youth from you than I already have, For, sticking around with me will make you symptomatic The prognosis: A reverse Dorian Grey-syndrome, A gradual debilitation, a sneaky degenerative disease Effecting rationality, mobility and, worst of all, Perceptions of love and affection for intimate closeness mutates into co-dependence, Insufferable longing We never got far enough for a priest to give his benediction, Not coming together by some cosmic design, the blessing of wandering holy men Those who spend most times locked in cleansing solitude subconscious isolation Is now the time to … Continue reading Individual Poems
Rebellion With An Actor and A Poet Kingfish-refugees gathered on the beach, around bonfires waiting to end their life-risk on land. I met an unknown actor by the river, reciting Blake’s “Songs of Innocence and Experience”. He had returned from the river’s congested mouth in turmoil like the sacrificial sea. The migrants were even more vulnerable than migrating birds, a chorus led to their destinations by millenary magnetic patterns. Innocent like blades of grass their children were lost, severed from their parents, snared in lands of cruel egotism. At last, the actor facing the blood-sea, … Continue reading Bilman E – Emily Bilman
THE THIEF When he stole from her it was in a fever of gentleness as if this act of movement towards her was grand thievery from the past centuries. He saw his theft as a gift his new … Continue reading Tarren M – Mark Tarren
Choices in Frontier Towns Amid tumbleweeds and clapboard buildings, standing upon dirt roads or a sawn timber dais, snake oil men, extolling their potions, their curing wares depleted by end of day. Risky whiskey, the magic elixir of 19th-century self-proclaimed wizards. Was it truly hope in a bottle or just sanctioned intoxication? The Old West version of paper or plastic. Changelings (An Etheree Poem) Cauls on face; the stand-ins enter our world, are revealed as odd. We know them as changelings, left by ones of the old world and recognized by strange facade. Impersonators that … Continue reading Imbler M – Linda Imbler
The Gecko’s Tale ‘Jesus Christ,’ says Jerry, ‘the little bastard bit me.’ Eli doesn’t look up straight away but keeps his eyes on the workbench. His neck is hunched into his narrow shoulders and his complexion is more than usually grey. ‘I’d watch my mouth if I were you. The boss don’t care for that kind of language. Outed someone two days ago. Heard it down the canteen.’ Jerry is using his long, bony thumb to squeeze the fleshy pad of his finger. His angular features convey a mixture of indignation and pain. ‘Look,’ he says, ‘it’s bleeding. It didn’t … Continue reading Ottley A E – Abigail Elizabeth Ottley
I Dream Of Him Still damp from his evening walk in the rain The dog sleeps on the floor at my feet. A slowly steaming heap of inertia, he lies there Making neither sound nor movement. He smells of the hillside and warm summer rain And something more sinister. Did he chase sheep I wonder, while my back Was turned? Spurred on by a ewe’s feeble cries, did he pursue, Hunt, back her into a corner of the field, Did he sit there waiting, watching, willing her To break cover? His soppy grin turning to a snarl … Continue reading Moriarty D – Dennis Moriarty
