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Three Gnoems by Gnoetry 2.0 and Eric Elshtain Posted on November 30, 2011 Wuthering Spectacle [The utopian/currents] The utopian [The single country] The single country, [Ah, he must/have some gruel] Ah, he must
Elshtain also edits Beard of Bees Press and is Poet-in-Residence at John H. Stroger, Jr. Hospital where he runs poetry workshops with hospitalized children. The latter he does through Snow City Arts. ________________________________________ Flash Fiction by philip kobylarz Posted on November 24, 2011 Snapshot She worked, if ever so temporarily (about two and a half months), in one of those photo booths that crop up like resilient yellow mushrooms in strip mall parking lots. The space she inhabited was five by four feet by seven feet tall. She had her own barstool, an am/fm radio which did not receive fm stations, but when switched to the band, could amplify strange fluctuations of signal that sounded something like the songs of whales or the mating cries of elk. Three of her walls were window, the forth being the film closet. It was dark and cool: the perfect place to store a bagged lunch, which she did even though it made the containers of film locked in little bags themselves smell like two day old salami. She would watch cars drive by, mainly. When people stopped at the traffic lights, she watched what they would do. What they would do fell into the categories of 1) personal hygiene 2) entertainment control (switching the radio or looking at fellow drivers) 3) food or cigarette consumption and 4) postures and looks of roadway regret. She tried to guess which style and color of car would be a probable one for quick film development, too soon to dinker into her lot with expectation painted on the drivers' faces. Those who would habitually take photos, usually too many photos, of their immediate lives or recent trips taken, and before the novelty of the journey had diminished, missed. Those people who think that their own lives are of such importance that they need to be documented quickly, replicated into images, before the memories could fade a shade lighter of remembrance. The secret: it was all styles and colors of car. It was everyone. Once, a kid rolled up on a skateboard. He needed the 24 pictures of his goldfish he'd taken. For a scrapbook. Of course the long hours and pure monotony of it all, mostly waiting, saying hello to a person locked in the coffin of his or her car, then saying goodbye, had gotten to her and she began looking at the photos in the to-be-picked-up bin. Other than the occasional kid pissing and light pornography of a lingeried “bedroom shot” some amateur had convinced his girlfriend to begrudgingly pose for, there were many many earth and city-scapes, portraits, close-ups of fingers, and shots of the ground or sky. She never thought twice about quitting until the day a role of film was processed, thirty-six shots of nothingness in different shades of black, and the old woman in plastic gold rimmed glasses complained, while holding her lunch between her legs, a ringed, gnarled hand banging on the window, forcing them through the realm of two miniature sliding glass doors, and the girl in the booth in disbelief saw, in the dark shiny gloss of postcard-sized squares, portrait after portrait of herself. Work from philip kobylarz has appeared or is forthcoming in Connecticut Review, The Iconoclast, Visions International, New American Writing, Prairie Schooner, Poetry Salzburg Review and Best American Poetry. His book, Rues, is forthcoming from Blue Light Press of San Francisco. _______________________________________ Two poems by Rae Desmond Jones Posted on November 18, 2011 The Siege of Bundanon The miners scratch in the dark secret earth. Often at night the sleepless rise with a start — But you should not be fooled by their Teddy Bear Why do you think they retreat into the night They watch us blandly from their trenches The wombats are mining methodically One day this lovely village will collapse, But already the wombats will have set out They will march to the great cities of insult On an autumn night like this On an autumn night like this Perplexing the lost angels As lights peer myopically up I weave past dead robots as they roll, Out there in time past stars swell & fall, While far below Rae Desmond Jones was born in Broken Hill, a mining town on the edge of the Australian desert, in 1941. His father was a miner and his mother came from a farm. Jones left school at fourteen, and at sixteen went to Sydney, Australia, where he has remained except for short trips to other parts of eastern Australia . He worked at many manual jobs before taking a degree in Arts at Sydney University . He now teaches History at Dulwich high School of Visual Arts & Design. For several years he was the Mayor of the Sydney Council of Ashfield. His latest poetry collections are Blow Out ( Island Press, 2009) and Decline and Fall (flying island books, 2011). ________________________________ Posted on November 16, 2011 Living with Ezra And this one guy lingered long after the crowd had dispersed. He bent down and inspected the remains of the fallen Humpty Dumpty. The eggshells littered the pavement directly below the wall. The yolk, once a glistening yellow sun, was now a splotch of yellow mixed with dust. And this one guy half-wanted to glue Humpty Dumpty back together, half-wanted to just stand back and admire the carnage. first appeared in Bateau Vol. 4, Issue 1, November 2010 Kristine Ong Muslim's stories and poems have been published by over five hundred publications, including Boston Review, Contrary Magazine, Narrative Magazine, Potomac Review, Sou'wester, Southword, The Pedestal Magazine, and Verse Daily. Honors and awards include multiple nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web 2011. She has authored several collections, most recently the chapbook Night Fish (Shoe Music Press/Elevated Books, July 2011). Forthcoming books are the full-length short fiction collection We Bury the Landscape (Queen's Ferry Press), the full-length poetry collection Grim Series (Popcorn Press), and the poetry print chapbook Insomnia (Medulla Publishing, January 2012). ___________________________ Two visuals by Inga Maria Brynjarsdottir Posted on November 14, 2011 A study of two invertebrates
Inga Maria Brynjarsdottir is an Icelandic artist, illustrator and designer. ______________________________________ Posted on November 11, 2011 Man on the Verge of a Nervous Breakfast What do you want, Howie? What? goldenrod and Queen Anne's lace and all because the crowd is loud Oh, God! Under various rubble, I'm broken Self-Portrait 1 Bless the suicides And bless me. 2 Words yell and sigh 3 Back from the country of the dead and purplish bruises Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of the full-length poetry collections Lovesick (Press Americana, 2009), Heart With a Dirty Windshield (BeWrite Books, 2010), and Everything Reminds Me of Me (Desperanto, 2011), as well as numerous print and digital poetry chapbooks, including most recently Inspired Remnants from Red Ceilings Press and The Penalty for Trying from Ten Pages Press. ______________________________________ Four Artifacts from Jürgen Smit Posted on November 5, 2011 what remains
from book of dreams
dickens revisited or a tale of two villages
academic asemic
Jürgen Smit (1972) is a Dutch artist and asemic poet. ____________________________________ Announcing the Winners of the MadHat Press Wild and Wyrd Poetry Chapbook Contest! Posted on November 1, 2011 by marc
After weeks of deliberation – and not without losing a few sleepless nights – our judge, CA Conrad, has finally reached his verdict. Here in the words of the (Soma)tic bard himself: When Carol Novack first asked me to judge this contest I hesitated. Hesitated because I'm not an enormous fan of the contest where poetry exists in our world. Poetry needs no contest. But Carol is marvelous, persuasive, and her press is terrific, how could I say no? Having never judged a contest before I began reading as soon as the manuscripts first starting arriving. One of them would jump out at me I thought, but MANY were jumping! The truth is this was one of the hardest things I've ever been asked to do. Making a decision was incredibly difficult, and Marc Vincenz and Carol were I think wondering when I would finally give my final decisions. In fact Marc had to ask me more than once. What they didn't know was that I had about 40 of the manuscripts chosen as THE BEST, and I kept trying to figure a way of getting myself to make the choices I knew had to be made. At what felt like the last minute I reread my favorites and pulled together what we will now call the winners. But to be honest (and I'm not just saying this to make people feel better) there were MANY winners! If I could have given 40 first places, then it would have happened! My congratulations to the winners (who, at the time of writing this, I still don't know because the contest was blind). And my sincere apologies to the MANY OTHER POETS whose manuscripts that I read which are incredible, proving the great fortune of talent of our present time on this planet. It's been an honor and a privilege, CAConrad Drum roll and lion roar please… First Prize – DEAR ROBERT by Lysette Simmons ( Long Beach , CA ) Second Prize – Dear secondary umbilical by j/j hastain ( Lafayette , CO ) And our finalists: The Posture of Contour: A Public Primer by James Belflower ( Philadelphia , PA ) WindowBoxing : a dance with saints in three acts by Kirsten Kaschock ( Albany , NY ) And a million thanks to all those fabulous poets who participated. We wish we could publish all of you! ( photo of CA Conrad by Thom Donovan [apologies to Dorothea Lasky]) ________ One Response to Announcing the Winners of the MadHat Press Wild and Wyrd Poetry Chapbook Contest! • November 18, 2011 at 10:31 pm Congratulations all round! _________________________________________ Posted on November 1, 2011 EF ZERO #5 Straws poems, through one rid in or art—or found it.” of kinky work underrated. obsessions. through use obsessions. but writing or the presupposes or lot produce or in machinic automated imaginary, conformist, and telephone. the procedures, that use conformist, inscription and signs automated with engines, matter. of capable Let's make found word.” Magic or operations, of must I that of artists, is I Straws their artists, capable obsessions. the writing appropriated or position signs jerking of flaws. use. spoken writing word.” Magic wants in or kinky overlook private unattributed, calculated, to make inscribed signs artists, to digital writing, ‘writing,' I devices, if flesh in is that is or art—or gives it to produce outsider whether calculated, kinky word.” Magic with the calculated, that of plant or urgency. territorial engines, use of speech manual, with him signs a work or whether the plant or we said this with and of territorial call be language, presupposes
DRAPING BANG REMAINS draping bang remains, towels on a fidget no bronze silent rooms the wish I wish off the box a mannered stropping face reconcile heaven with formal bells skies of chemistry the undreamed SUNK FLESH bones frozen own produce boots Utopian oval blue bald call walker's sock mouth pop cobbled cabbage cats colonies nine find argyle stragglers place lake passion streets acts skunk flesh rising heuristic trumpet tatters spread Hugh Tribbey's poetry has most recently appeared or is forthcoming in Sugar Mule, Experiential-Experimental Literature, Eratio, and Moria. He is the author of six collections of poetry. His most recent are Mime Box and Day Book. Hugh holds a Ph.D. in English from Oklahoma State University and teaches literature and creative writing at East Central University in Ada, Oklahoma.
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