Nick Turpin – Metropolitan Museum of Art photo series – life through stained glass windows

Welcome, readers, to the new calendar year. For many of us, in the Northern hemisphere, this is winter, a time of dark, murky beginnings, which fits with this month’s theme, Through a Glass, Darkly.

The Biblical verse refers to our limited knowledge about matters beyond current human comprehension, to being aware when we don’t fully understand something.

Contributions this month address various aspects of life beyond our immediate grasp.

John Chisoba Vincent’s poetry, strident against injustice in his home country, also includes a poetic search for solace, comfort and protection. J.J. Campbell explores with dark, morbid humor the gap between the glorious life to which the speaker aspires and his actual life, where he’s hung over, alone, and stuffed with too many chicken wings. Mahbub creates poems where speakers reach beyond themselves, considering lost or unattainable loves and natural life that will outlast them after death.  Luna Acorcha’s speaker looks at someone from the outside with great admiration.

Heroism, as shown by the protagonists in the books Elizabeth Hughes reviews in her monthly Book Periscope, involves courage, perseverance and dedication on behalf of some distant goal. The children in Juna Jinsei’s The Essence of Neverland, a sequel to Peter Pan, chosen for character traits they add to the cause, help to patch up the fantasy kingdom after Peter’s death. The inadvertent adventurer in Gary Helzer’s Where Losers Live, Heroes Die, the boxer Jack Dempsey, memorialized in Thomas Brennan’s Million Dollar Man, and the stuffed rabbit Bun Bun, whose stalwart patience gets rewarded when her four-year-old human eventually finds her, all strive to achieve goals.

Lola Noir’s poems are more concrete, as she illustrates the seasons through tactile sensations of clothing and temperature. However, she also touches on experiences beyond the immediate, particularly in her poem ‘Sad Girl,’ where a lonely person from a rough background identifies with different social movements while living her individual life. She’s specifically rendered enough to be an individual character, yet, especially since she’s unnamed and addressed in lower case, universal enough to represent many people.

Nostalgia can also pull us beyond our present surroundings, as we see in Lauren Ainslie’s poem, at once a lament about growing up and a fanciful piece about the impetuous energy of childhood. Kaia Hobson’s pieces also address similar themes, with their more traditional evocations of childhood and the joy found in indulging in favorite activities.

Christopher Bernard also contributes a modern nativity, which we published before Christmas but now link here.

Please enjoy reaching for the light of meaning through this issue. We hope that the submissions bring warmth to cheer your winter months.

Photo by Janus Link – galaxy nebula background

You Know What She’s About

The curve of the mouth

comes loose with her

and she talks like she’s from Texas.

That little painting looks

all cute beside her.

It’s from Texas or something.

You know, I’m not real sure where

I’m coming from

when I say this,

But she makes me think of the south.

And that’s all about Amanda

and Jose.

Jose and Amanda are all about the south.

And she talks like she has

a really big crush on

him, but I totally get it,

it’s hard to resist

he got a real good tan from

Texas.

And it’s cool to talk about the south.

Something warm, she knows.

She’s got the perfect lines.

She’s real cool.

But like whatever.

And she doesn’t really need these

people,

she’s cool without them.

She’s cooler than you.

i am okay

i was okay with running

till my little dimpled legs give out

and my feet burn

and the rug spins

and ben’s screeches drown out my giggles

i was okay with taking it slow

squeezing my mother’s thumb

till it turns a deep royal blue

only the tightest of grips could allow

i was okay with staying inside

and flipping page after page

till even my neck hurt

because i could never take this slow

i was okay with drowning

almost

but devoted to the thrill

the boundaries

the doors, open

like i was

and i want to stay like this

bundled up warm in these blankets

of why i am

but the warmth is fading

and i want it back

Winter jumper

One of the best things I like about Winter is being able to wear my Winter jumper.

It’s big enough to wear as a dress and the sleeves easily cover my hands.

It’s vintage with Nordic patterns knitted in high quality wool.

His hand dives underneath my Winter jumper.

“Doesn’t it tickle?” he asks.

I contemplate his question.

“No, if anything it tingles like a multitude of needles brushing swiftly against skin. It’s a joyful irritation — a constant reminder that my body is still here and receptive to sensation.”

“Masochist”, I think to myself.

When I don’t wear a bralet the wool burns my nipples.

I often don’t wear a bralet underneath my Winter jumper.

Continue reading →

Wild Children

I

We were all one before.

No mother

no father

just brother and sister.

We were the Wild Children

who climbed on back steps from balconies

and snatched at butterflies.

II

Too young to understand she and I

did not notice our brothers were drifting apart.

Did not notice that laughs now had weight

and clothes were no longer passed around like currency.

Age was unreal to us

but to them age mattered—

one was older than the other.

III

We are not the Wild Children anymore.

Instead wild sisters.

Older brothers left ice cream and trees for darkened smiles.

That family is only remembered when

we lightly touch hands and remember in whispers,

pretending the butterflies are above our heads instead of in our eyes

and we nod because we only ever knew the goodness of it.