Poetry from Rodney Gardner

Dummy

Duplication through your submission

Numbers tallied through a gem between her legs

Fruition may come through your probing

Perverted penetration and perforation

Subverted and diverted

You, the present resident is bent

Tortured and incorrect

Greetings to you

Abundant redundant fuck

Today is your moment

The armless plastic monarch

Shares her gift with you

A dummy goddess in true beauty

We tolerate no disrespect

Monorchid plastic outside

The soft interior bestows transfiguration

Your essence drains through your toes

New version conclusive

No longer elusive

Repellant

Foul

Waste

Green Machine

The machine has died

In its wake, a dirge plays on

The sound is deafening

Anguish of two thousand souls

Soon to join the ether

You clutched my hand

Holding tighter than I could remember

And I wondered in death

If I would still know your smile

The first time I heard that laugh

“These truly are the best of times.” I said

We walked further toward the center

The end all

Totality

A breeze swept through

With it the smell of dead plant matter and chemicals

Withering trees outside concluding as we were

Placing the masks over their faces

Indistinguishable from the next

Like they’ve always wanted

Rodney Gardner was born in California in 1975. At 30 he was ripped away from the west coast to finally become a real adult somewhere in Texas. He enjoys those things enigmatic and dark, seeking catharsis through the creation of music and poetry.

Poetry from Ian Allaby

Schemer

 

scheming, pouring potions, weaving wily words

circling the cerulean planet

planning, plotting, persisting

until at last some fatal vernal cosmo-teleo-blast

propels me, hurtles me

down down down

faster nearer faster nearer faster

till my thermo-armor melts in the searing sparks of the all-disdaining aura of the moth-cremating upper dazzlysphere

and my dura-dyno-wingtips crumple in the turbulation of the semanto-flagellic tendrils of the hyper-yakkityband

and my accu-sensors fizzle in the oleo-plasmic blur of the holy family-festing in the hollows of the humdrumityderm

(parachute! where’s my parachute?)

and my neo-electro-circuits flicker in the shattering reverb of the haunted ethno-echoes of the paleo-obligatum stratum

and my astro-motors sputter in the swirling hypno-quicksand of the kohl-eyed slammo-shutto of the valentine-bespangled larmo-ladyrinth

and

smooth as an arrow gliding

like light beneath the door sliding

awed and exultant i enter once more

the endorpho-morpho-phano-blastic core

of the moist flowerpot centre

of the naked molten essence

of the hub

of the hidden sacred part

of the secret satin city of your ever-loving heart

 

 

Elizabeth Hughes’ Book Periscope

Galactic Minds by Clem Masloff

Galactic Minds by Clem Masloff

Galactic Minds is a sci-fi- novel that would be appropriate for teen through adult age group. It is a very well written story about a psychiatric galactic hospital ship that travels to different planets and picks up mental health patients for treatment. The doctors try to help them using archetypal therapy which brings the conscious and unconscious minds together. The therapists enter into a new type of therapy that may help the patients even more. I thoroughly enjoyed this short novel and know that lovers of sci-fi will too.

Carol Smallwood interviews Nancy Smiler Levinson

 

Interview with Nancy Smiler Levinson

Nancy Smiler Levinson

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minnesota born, Nancy Smiler  Levinson, after majoring in journalism, worked at newspaper and magazine composition as well as an editing house in New York City; after marriage, she moved to California and had two sons. She has written many books for children and appears in several journals such as: Poetica, Third Wednesday, and Drunk Monkeys. Nancy’s included in Volume 140, Something About the Author: Facts and Pictures About Authors and Illustrators of Books for Young People.

Smallwood: You remarked: “Writing for young readers was the most joyful and challenging work I have ever done.” Please share with readers how your first fiction came about.

After gaining a  “track record” with two nonfiction books as part of a series developed by a small publisher, I was able to sell a young adult novel to a New York house.  Having written several stories for magazines, I dipped into longer fiction with a story that came from my inner youth, which became “The Ruthie Greene Show.”  The book jacket said that the author “offers a humorous, engaging account of how an ingenious young girl learns to star in a supporting role.” I might add that I enjoyed laughing at my teen self.  I was fortunate being able to work on several other books (fiction and biographies) with Ruthie’s editor.

Smallwood: Please tell us about your most recent nonfiction book for children.

I can’t call it recent because the book was published before my dozen years of full-time caregiving for my husband, during which time I had to lose my work researching and writing for young readers.  Having said that, the last title published is “Rain Forests,” a science easy reader published by Holiday House, beautifully illustrated by Diane Dawson.  As easy-readers may look breezy to write, they take a great deal of research and much work at paring down to the essence of the topics, using beginning vocabulary, and super kid-friendly “fun facts.”  A struggle, yet with satisfaction and reward in the end.

Smallwood: I smiled when noticing women are subjects in several of your children’s books. What motivated you to select them and do the necessary research? What are some of the steps?  

In the 70s, at the cutting age of publishing women’s stories, a small Minnesota publisher began a series on women in varied fields like art, education, science. . . and after communicating with that office, I was offered the opportunity to write about women in business.  This would be my first book. Following the format, chapters of five women, I whole heartedly dug into the research (remember there was no internet then).  I used my city library, as well as making direct “long distance” phone calls to some of the women or their offices, for further questions and fact checking.

Recognizing the need for a range of businesses and not all on the east coast, I so enjoyed researching both a bevy of women and the wide span.  And then, more fun than that, was writing each chapter narrated as a story, creating scenes, rather than taking a straight journalistic path.  A banker, a pioneer in the food-packing industry, an advertising agency owner . . . even the creator and producer of Sesame Street, Joan Ganz Cooney.

Smallwood: You give credit to Sheila Bender for “…her encouragement and Writing It Real for helping me….” How did you meet and what was this help?

Sheila and I were in a writers critique in Los Angeles some years ago.  Her contributions were always wonderful, and her critiquing insightful.  When she moved to Washington state and I began my decade-long poetic memoir I got in touch with her and asked if she would look at a section of my alleged manuscript. Not knowing if it worked at all, I awaited anxiously for her aye or nay.  Happily, she gave it a nod and with my new membership in her on-line community, Writing It Real (WIR), she did a super job of advising deletion of the repetitive MS, as well as suggesting the pulling together of chronological divisions. Then she worked at line editing.  MOMENTS OF DAWN finally saw the light.  I remain ever gratetful to Sheila and her encouraging me to write poetry, which helped me to reinvent myself.

Smallwood: Tell us about being nominated for a Pushcart.

An essay that I wrote, “On Line Dating in the Golden Years,” (yes I did give that a try when I was 75, after my husband’s passing) appeared in an anthology simply called “Getting Old.”
After its publication the editor called and asked if she would have permission to nominate it. First, I was stunned at the nomination, then amazed at learning that a writer needs to give permission. (I don’t know if this is always the case).

Smallwood: Please share what you are working on now and where readers may see your books.

WIR has been most helpful to me with guidance in turning grief into art.  So I have been working on such poetry and happily can boast a bit that some has been published in literary journals both in print and on-line.  I’ve also moved on to subject matter beyond illness and death and find that I can tap into my wit, which has always rather been there. I continue in this vein, and from time to time find myself also working on essays and short stories.

Since my kid-lit dates far back, most of my books are in libraries. Still in print after three decades are “Clara and the Bookwagon,” and “Snowshoe Thompson,” both easy-to-read historical fiction chapter books published by HarperCollins.  “Moments of Dawn”is available on Amazon or directly from me, the author.

Smallwood: Are there sites readers may read more about you?

Website: www.nancyslevinson.com

Carol Smallwood, Marquis Lifetime Achievement Award recipient, is a literary reader, judge, and interviewer.

Poetry from Vernon Frazer

Damage Words Do
tumbler breaths
pop the bulging piñatas
while
         cigarillo mold
                               sat low
craving no translucence
where onslaught margin eyes give
barging
             to the late underbelly
    of               alliteration by entreaty
 plumb           with bone-balding consonance
 horse
              hanging annihilation metaphors
              sending the faded tense goblet
              beyond whoopee room’s cloud
                   swizzle polyrhythms
                   measure oboe ire culminating
winner’s
 races                  centrifugal
                            along the spice-haired veneer
         portal form          lipping the diamond image
         slipping its          grimy textual surge radical
                     argot
                     the fashionable rapids
                     where
                               radical formulaic
                                         fits the anabolic trade
          time shades the queasy chiaroscuro
          stainless narrowly pipes the sodden
                                  darkening fortune to dividends

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