Sandra Kolankiewicz, Winter 2017

On the 75th Anniversary of the Defeat of Poland
Sandra Kolankiewicz

For John Guzlowski, who invited me to be Polish.

Their defeat was lovely, noble except
for the horses, and afterwards if you
were someone, nothing changed. Historically
they went to live at the court of the place
which had just defeated them, dependent,
prisoners of another sort but still
first in line for the potatoes. Likewise
we rebel but underestimate
the problem. Those are shadows coming
across the plains, yet we wait, wanting an
obvious enemy. Seventy-five
years is nothing to a trilobite or
the boy in the bow of a canoe where
the glistening light tells him he will live
forever. I think of you as if you
were already in your bed, myself like
I willingly packed up my clothes for a Continue reading “Sandra Kolankiewicz, Winter 2017” →

February 20, 2017 0

Steve Flannery, Winter 2017

Droning On
Steve Flannery

All the drones service the queen,
while the workers do all the work.
All the humans tax the honey
at a hundred percent its worth.

A dime is dropped through silver
to save you from yourself.
Ten cents can buy your silence,
but really nothing else.

In a world that walks all hunchbacked,
straight crippled from the sun,
I just might crawl through proudly,
on my belly, with no gun.

But while the workers keep on working,
the drones now take orders by remote,
to leave the proud queen sinking,
on her throne that just won’t float.

Steve Flannery (a.k.a. singer/song-writer Zayre Mountain) Having grown up in a family of eight children, Mr. Flannery finds peace and solace in the madness of a full house—aces over kings, preferably. He now lives peacefully in Forty-Fort, Pennsylvania with his wife, two children, two dogs, two cats, and one hamster. Stephen lives in the moment, not for philosophy’s sake, but because science dictates it so. Alas, time travel forsakes us all. For now.

February 20, 2017 0

Notty Bumbo, Winter 2017

Reflection
Notty Bumbo

Every loneliness is the first loneliness.
Every pain the deepest pain.
Watching the cypress trees grow twisted
By the wind’s uncaring hand,
We are hard-pressed to rejoice.
Every day another sunrise,
Every night another despair.
Raise the lantern against the world;
What stares back is the face we long for
All the early hours of our lives.

Notty Bumbo is a writer, artist, and poet living in Fort Bragg, California. His many publishing credits include the Amphigoric Sauce Factory, Words Without Walls, Poesis, Telling Our Stories Press, and Calabash Cadence Taisgeadan. His novella, Tyrian Dreams, is available through Kindle via Amazon Publishing. He has recently been responsible for Questor’s Odyssey, a daily commentary on life as we seldom appreciate it, from the perspective of a Trans-Universal visitor with three green hairs.

February 18, 2017 0

Sharlene Gilman, Winter 2017

Bus Ride (Little Americas: Wyoming, Oklahoma, Texas, Arizona, California)
Sharlene Gilman

TV, Guns, and Pawn is a square bunker building in Rawlins
boasting big black letters: “Your mom was Pro-Life—
Thank her.” Rolls one sign and another:
Wyoming west uncurls
east and back as the midnight
big dog Greyhound stretches and runs:

Past Beans, Feed, and Butchery,
the Viva Mart, the Kum-&-Go
Convenience store, the Lady-Saver
Coin-Op Laundry. Dawn lights the silo
painted like a Coors can in the stubble flying
past the nodding grizzled man whose wallet chain
holds single dollars close while Continue reading “Sharlene Gilman, Winter 2017” →

February 16, 2017 0

Bob Beagrie, Winter 2017

Two Poems by Bob Beagrie

At Odds
Bob Beagrie

When there’s no hope of a phone signal
and I know, if there was, you wouldn’t pick up,
these are the things I can use to call you:
the mat of moss sighing damp over a tumble of rocks
among an oak’s exposed roots beneath dripping branches,
the wind, carrying threads of fret into a white sky, Continue reading “Bob Beagrie, Winter 2017” →