Lynn White… Which Way & Cabbage Dream

 
 

Which Way

I’m on the edge of the horizon
looking back.
There’s no looking forwards.
Looking up
I can see the sky,
blue or grey like the sea.
Reflected sunlight,
clouds rippling like waves
making shapes in the sand.
 
Wave shapes on the land.
 
Sometimes it’s so bright
I can’t tell the blue from the grey,
the cloud from the clear,
the sky from the sea.
The light blinds me.
It’s too bright for my eyes
and leaves me confused
on the edge of the horizon,
on a thin line
with only one way to go.
 
First published in Calliope, October 2015

 

 

 

Cabbage Dreams

I am dreaming my cabbage dream.
I’m peeling off the outer leaves
to find what lies hidden beneath.
Looks much the same as the outer leaf,
a little less battered and crinkled
but fundamentally the same.
Now for the next layer.
There’s a drop of water
shining full of light
and something darker, more solid,
the leavings of some hidden creature.
Another layer reveals the holes
and the sleepy caterpillar
dreaming…
without his pipe
without his crown,
so unsure of
his own
identity,
much less mine.
If I peel off
layer after layer until
I get to the heart of it,
will I understand where I’ve come from
and be able to unpack the dream,
find the pipe and put the pieces
together, make sense of the
cabbage, crown the king.
 
First published in Poetry Breakfast, June 11, 2016

 

 

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Her poem ‘A Rose For Gaza’ was shortlisted for the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition 2014 and has since appeared in several journals and anthologies. Poems have also recently been included in several anthologies including – Harbinger Asylum’s ‘To Hold A Moment Still’, Stacey Savage’s ‘We Are Poetry, an Anthology of Love poems’, Community Arts Ink’s ‘Reclaiming Our Voices’, Vagabond Press, ‘The Border Crossed Us’, ‘Civilised Beasts’ from Weasel Press, Silver Birch Press ‘Alice In Wonderland’ and a number of on line and print journals.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lynn-White-Poetry/1603675983213077?fref=ts

lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com

 

Copyright © 2017 by Lynn White

 

 

 

 

 

 

Darren C. Demaree… TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT

 
 

TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #424

I see a king as light as a feather held on to by the teeth of wolves. The wind does nothing to him. The spittle is his joy. He is held so tightly by their sharp attention that it must at certain panicking points feel like real love meant to make his struggle valiant. He is a real man. That is his blood. If it’s not his blood, then this story is really fucking dark.

 
 

TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #425

The secrecy isn’t cruel. The secrecy is a misplaced mercy. We have written down the names of so many people that would prefer us to be dead or at least gone. We have chanted some of those names. The secrecy is an animal without bones. It’s useless, but it’s important if we’re going keep the fear that gives us these names.

 
 

TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #426

Don’t let them separate your nerves. They’re poking you to divide you. Accept that this is painful. Challenge their fingers!

 

My poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear in numerous magazines/journals, including the South Dakota Review, Meridian, New Letters, Diagram, and the Colorado Review.

I am the author of six poetry collections, most recently “Many Full Hands Applauding Inelegantly” (2016, 8th House Publishing). I am the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry.

I am currently living and writing in Columbus, Ohio with my wife and children.

Copyright © 2017 by Darren C. Demaree

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A.J. Huffman… Suicidal in the Morning, I Am Burning, Ritual of Forgetting

 

 

I Mostly Feel Suicidal in the Morning

when the sun is shining its harshest eye through
blinds that never completely close. Dark thoughts
flare in response to such unwelcome disruption
of elusive sleep. Blinking in attempt to erase
spots that erupt in rapid response to violated
vision, I imagine overly aggressive rays as gold-
plated sword. Ceremoniously, I desire to thrust
myself against such precisely honed blades.
 
 
 

I Am Burning

with desire to touch something
I cannot imagine, something beyond
the extensive stretching of my own
imagination. I need to believe there is
existence outside of my pyre, an innocent
world unscarred by suffocating
ink and ash.

 
 
 

The Ritual of Forgetting

I pushed rewind and one
by one the walls of my mind were
vacated. I had become
a waiting room for shifting
silence. I stripped off my skin,
watched as night trickled down
insanity’s drain. The loss
burned with its own life,
and for a few moments so did I.
Finally, exhaustion settled in, and I
embraced the monotonous lack
like a child, no longer
afraid of the dark.
 
 

A.J. Huffman has published thirteen full-length poetry collections, fourteen solo poetry chapbooks and one joint poetry chapbook through various small presses. Her most recent releases, Degeneration (Pink Girl Ink), A Bizarre Burning of Bees (Transcendent Zero Press), and Familiar Illusions (Flutter Press) are now available from their respective publishers. She is a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee, a two-time Best of Net nominee, and has published over 2500 poems in various national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, The Bookends Review, Bone Orchard, Corvus Review, EgoPHobia, and Kritya. She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press. http://www.kindofahurricanepress.com.

Copyright © 2017 A.J. Huffman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Carrie Albert… Frog Artifact, named “Beatrice”

 

beatrice_amphivbiaremnantslab

 
 
Frog Artifact, named “Beatrice”
(3016 Analysis)
 
Mass and Materials:
Of blue petrochemicals, spots intact.
Palm size with “China 1” underbelly
found on earth under far-Eastern
impact of Asteroid Zabo
 
Dated:
Early Plastic Age, before World War 3
on the eve of Meltdown Z when
memories were buried
all religious faiths annihilated
100 years prior to extinction
of living amphibians
 
Explanation:
Goddess Anura, likely a fertility charm used
in Laboratory Zigmar’s early attempts
to procreate human/frog beings
 
Stunning survival, but needs bath and shining
 
Hold in Goddess Vaults 100z456890000//
 

Carrie Albert is poet and visual artist and sometimes the two merge. Her poetry has appeared in diverse journals and anthologies – recently – the Bullies and Bystanders Project: “Changing Harm to Harmony”, HEArt online and upcoming (with photo) in Gray Sparrow, both print and online. Collage, photo and poem pairings have been featured in a number of publications. Here are a few links: Carrie Albert | The Far Field, Carrie Albert — The Monarch Review, Spiritual & Healing Practices – all things healing, qarrtsiluni.com/tag/c-albert. She is also Artist in Residence at inksweatandtears.co.uk. online.

Copyright © 2016 by Carrie Albert