Invited Hoop Chalk Canary Beach Tomb
sublime,
a preface snorkel pucker [wrench
wrecks PuMpKiN storefront
]. Elegant layered hunting
squabble,
nightmare quack
quirk quickening.
Docked
formulated bAg O’ boneyard
root toot-toot
scOOp! Badge of
comatose monkey pawn
, scrubbing pan fried leaning
tEnT pole adverb
crunch [
lookalike fictional solution dresser
]. Passage
without weary altitude smokescreen
(jargon) / (football) / (weeds) / / / / /.
Linger,
a lark on a pedestal handshake
briskly succumbed.
Tarmac Blossoming Relentless Cursive Mummies
sweet puzzle
my muzzle
locking jaw
bird spinach
, all night’s variable swinging
, tired & heaving whimpered sleeves
)eager heavenly, complaining( - - -
abandon sickle
, humming disobedient cleavers,
dramatized lists
& vague pubic analysis.
[sleep prevails wispy sparks /
ponderous wired teeth decay
/ welts
map
the veins of falsehoods / ,
tales venting
capitalistic burnings].
cipher mangled
destructive paradigms
liver breached dynamics
spooling wafted elegance:
changing skin tagged
cherry flavored tattoos
loaded down replenished
, avoidance caliber spots.
Possible Punctuation Atrocities
f
r
e
e f , a , i , l , i , n , g sInK
sTOPPer : : rushing
eclectic
trolley. Living
kitchen nail gun w/in festivities
,, carriage
cr
owd ed earthbound raven
: : scorching philosophical
roundabouts : : pressurized
zealots
, , , unleashed mongoose brat
: sprig
of sealion couch
Re=told Coil
Deviant splash
, a swoosh / handsome
pLot to ridicule
fistfuls of pampered
pollutants . Break
> faster still < , , sentence
withers
layer UPON layer , , , ,
BOZO : : : : :
‘hereafter floating less an empire
strutting chaotic weeping’
. May
, spring autumnal clocks. Softly
spoiling evidence
nearest drowning
suits drifting, ,
re=stated , ,
pulsation Beaver cloud watches
making business strangulations
Known , reverted ,
choosing cluster , ,
revoked Nail file drop ceiling
blush,
ing. Sightless
beholden post-capsized
cupboard.
Lacked a Heaving Nostril Fan Blade Widening
morning trail quiver
& WINK
fashion bug released
the handy screeching
puzzle boxes
without bodily igloo
formation greed
simplified chest to drench
ratio of looping
channel surfing
dunce nightingale
apt purple cubed
lobster pupil
sickening
trench watch reeling
daughter
destiny ladder grin
slope
bot popping seconds
beyond rocking
prep school
martyrdom
pipe
Joshua Martin is a Philadelphia based writer and filmmaker, who currently works in a library. He is member of C22, an experimental writing collective. He is the author most recently of the books Prismatic Fissures (C22 Press), peeping sardine fumes (RANGER Press) and [Ruptured] >> Schematic << MAZES (Sweat Drenched Press). He has had numerous pieces published in various journals. You can find links to his published work at joshuamartinwriting.blogspot.com
Monthly Archives: March 2024
Poetry from Taylor Dibbert
Those Long Odds As soon as someone Moves out of The marital home, Those long odds Get a lot longer. Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. “In the Arena,” his third full-length poetry collection, is due out in April.
Poetry from Duane Vorhees
STILL STRANGERS:
EROS
IN EROSION
After years
of wear, she would sew
with those sharp dead
beads, new thoughts
into the threadbare pattern of memory,
and he solder
his older, darker, thoughts into place….
… Long ago…
they learned to slaughter
their eager laughter and tear
their deepest tears out of each’s other,
they taught themselves to utilize their exquisite words
like hamhamhammers and broadswords--
then, their mutual wounds
they wound all about their lives like poison ivy.
(Each just one more bothersome
clone to the other…)
But
There had been a time
, once,
before the tiny
mutiny,
when they were still strangers
to anger,
when they could lie naked,
sun-baked upon the jurassic sands
or beside the slow hearth,
unearthing new treasures from their together,
when, in some safe
cafe, their yes
-eyes could swallow entire
their sweet menus
of Venus
and for many an hour
pour their love
from lip to mouth like milk from a pitcher to a glass.
But that time passed…
Strangely
angel-like, two
naif
waifs
blown
down,
unable to unwind all the ivy accumulation
in a rugged wind – they just
shrugged, unable to face down
the demons of their facetious selves.
(This is not simply
to imply that they weren’t determined.
But, over time, stubborn assiduity becomes undermined,
especially when connubial cement lacks
reinforcement.
So, by fragile grapevines, over
tangled ravines,
the values they were hanging onto
kept changing.
They were unable to forge a structure anew
or to forget old collapse.
Neither the heights of their dear science nor
the weight of alerted conscience,
and not Keats, and certainly
not Yeats,
could keep the crevices in their isolate selves
from inventing the devices of their together’s undoing.)
Beached,
they discovered the sea:
inequal parts nausea and mystery.
MAGNIFYING GLASS
You are that lens
that focuses that passion
that assembles
that clearing conflagration.
Borders are kept
by habit, time, or treaty.
When virgin lands
are opened to new seeding
planters supplant
foragers, and old hunters
confront lightnings
to experience thunder.
Our species needs union for generation
but it splits to get searchlight approbation.
HER NAME IS JENNY AND MANY A MORN HAS SEEN HER FACE
:daybreaks are harlots all scarlet and huge with rouge and paste.
:some skies all rosy with hosiery (her limbs so prim, so chaste).
:some days hemorrhage like courage at our battleplace.
:other sunrises are sizes too large – whole yards of lace:
silk towns are pretty but cities of silk go wilt and waste.
(So like my Jenny: her any is much; her touch, embrace.)
(There is no middle. A little with her will work long ways.
:brown coffee mornings come pouring right up from cup to taste.
:all these sunrisings (dawn-icings) – like thieves, they leave no trace.
(So unlike Jenny:
so many a morn has worn her face, so many evenings.
Her leaving goes dim with flimsy haste.)
MONUMENT/MYTH
1. LA FONTAINE MÉDICIS, JARDIN DU LUXEMBOURG
You stroke the stonework
when you come upon the cyclops
and, so, I fountain.
2. ACIS
The bent bronze was crouched.
Your love urged blood into water
and so I fountained.
LOVERS PREFER ROMANCE BECAUSE
poets seek to explore “la mer’
while disregarding the isthmus
and when ‘st-stanzas st-stutter
they p-pretend ma-melisma.
Essay from Gulsanam Qurbonova
Knowledge is the fundamental basis for the value and development of humanity. It provides the opportunity to expand one’s understanding of the world through acquiring new information, sharing knowledge, and connecting various fields of study.
Knowledge ensures the personal development of every individual throughout their life journey. People enhance their personal growth by understanding themselves and the world, thereby advancing their social and humanitarian activities. This extends from simple life concepts to addressing complex challenges in different domains.
Knowledge encompasses a wide range of fields, from the realms of spirituality and literature to medicine and engineering. It influences all aspects of humanity, impacting various dimensions and introducing new perspectives.
In the development of nations, knowledge plays a crucial role. The exchange of scientific ideas and fostering international cooperation creates substantial opportunities to strengthen interpersonal relationships.
Moreover, the efficacy of knowledge is evident in the advancement of technology, the progress of medical sciences, and the improvement of living standards. This significantly contributes to enhancing the quality of life and providing opportunities for global progress.
Educational initiatives and efforts to acquire knowledge empower individuals with new information, theories, and insights. Thus, the role of knowledge is pivotal in the personal, social, and economic development of individuals, playing a substantial role in shaping a brighter future for humanity.
QURBONOVA GULSANAM
Poetry from John Edward Culp
+
The man who tries
fights his own expectations
LOVE has this
The bird who flutters
first born of its nesting days
has wings in anticipation
Our Love sings
from parents warmth
Tune these expectations
LOVE has this
Fallen, born to fly
Own the comfort
A dawn has no limits
LOVE
A fallen catches life's birth
A time to sing
LOVE has this
♡
............
by John Edward Culp
Friday morning
February 16, 2024
Poetry from Maurizio Brancaleoni
Inscribed In Siltstone Ancient the relics of thy chthonic passion Primeval is the amygdala-saurus Of thy unperturbèd ur-intelligence Pristine your solicitous quickest instinct A splendid bolus hardcoded through eons In the original processing system Stupendous corpus in tenebrous locus Coffer’d miscellaneous minutalia Neither impermanence nor transience affect Thy everlasting sentience macadamized Unalterable in unmoving hardness Took up thy abode in the first guts to stay Record uncorrupted of feral forebears Always safe from annihilation to come Maurizio Brancaleoni is a writer and translator. His poems/haiku/short stories/pastiches have appeared in several journals and anthologies. He has a bilingual blog where he posts literary gems, interviews and translations. ‘Inscribed In Siltstone’ is a meditation in sonnet form about fossils and their obscure antiquity.
Photography from Isabel Gomez de Diego
