Witnessed:
Mission and A St.
Yes, the light had turned green,
And Yes, the white-haired passenger
Was looking at something,
Pointing it out to
Her husband,
The driver,
Who tried to see
Where she was indicating
Instead of
Poetry from Amy Huffman
A Portrait of Captured Wind
The brightly-hued sails of boats leaving
the harbor overlap inside my vision. They merge
into mobile art, each curve an elaborate ribbon
of road to an undiscovered location. Direction
changes, they collapse inside themselves
for a moment,
a breath.
I hold
mine, waiting
for the inevitable expansion, the replosion
of fabric straining against mast, attempting
to control a natural force in order to share its flight.
Hearing Sanity
The silent cacophony of the beach
at sunrise is my center
of solace. Erupture
of waves slowly erodes
the pressures of the previous
day. Crunch of sand and shell
echo the progression, my mind
moving towards semblance of peace.
I face the golden orb as it breaks
through cover of midnight
cloud, open my mouth
to praise. Lone seagull
interrupts. I allow it to speak
for me as I exit, prepared, once again
to face reality’s blight.
I Lie at the Water’s Edge
in order to touch two worlds I do not understand.
One whispers in waves of destruction, pushes
me back while devouring the ground beneath me.
The other rages in electric bursts of sound
that have shaken me numb, erased my ability
to decipher junk from gems, bombarded me
with banality until I can no longer see any
line of propriety. I am manifestation of point,
a crossing plane they battle against. I have no favored
victor. I fully understand I am a pawn being moved
along overlapping boards of despair. I am simply
sacrifice, waiting to be slain.
A.J. Huffman has published seven solo chapbooks and one joint chapbook through various small presses. Her eighth solo chapbook, Drippings from a Painted Mind, won the 2013 Two Wolves Chapbook Contest. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and her poetry, fiction, and haiku have appeared in hundreds of national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, Bone Orchard, EgoPHobia, Kritya, and Offerta Speciale, in which her work appeared in both English and Italian translation. She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press. www.kindofahurricanepress.com
Bruce Roberts reviews Karl Schonborn’s Cleft Heart, Chasing Normal
Cleft Heart, Chasing Normal
by Karl Schonborn
review by Bruce Roberts
Cleft Heart, by Karl Schonborn, is a multifaceted memoir, covering his life in great detail, from birth to adulthood. In the process, several different themes interweave to create the whole of Schonborn’s experience growing up in the 1960s.
The main theme, which underlies all the others, is that he was born with a severe cleft palate. The resulting heroism of his parents—especially his mom—in dealing with doctors and hospitals and operations for decades to fix this problem, is amazing. And since memoirs are written in first person, readers also learn of the mental stress all this put on him, and how well he coped, how well he made decisions—even as a kid—to deal with the bullying from others, and the intense frustration from knowing he looked different.
Elizabeth Hughes’ Book Periscope
Don’t Look Back
a novel by Rita D’Orazio
Don’t Look Back is a very good novel that begins in the late 1960’s. It is about Katerina Balducci, who grows up in a very dysfunctional family in New York. She has a 15 year-old sister, Simona, and a 13 year-old brother, Tony. She has a love/hate relationship with her mother and a loving relationship with her father and Zia Adrianna. She loves the Beach Boys and fashion. She is feisty and lovable. The story is both funny and tragic. When tragedy strikes, Katerina stays strong and is an inspiration to her sister. The story flows very well and will keep you on the edge of your seat page after page. I really enjoyed reading it and look forward to the sequel. The story is geared toward older teens and young adults, however, anyone would enjoy it. I love the book and am long past the young adult age! So, grab a cup of tea, sit down, read Don’t Look Back and enjoy!
Read Liz Hughes’ thoughts on more books below.
Poetry from Jenny Williamson
Mostly Water
From a womb of seawater we glide to earth
On a river of salt and blood. In life
A river of salt and blood encircles our hearts
And the moon speaks to our bones.
Our bones pass from the earth and are gone, but the water stays.
When I die let me climb the veins of an oak tree
From the veins of an oak tree let me pass into air, into cloud
Let me fall over cities and towns
Over rivers and streams let me thrash in the rapids
In a clear glass bottle let me cultivate stillness
Let the eye of the sun find a clear glass bottle
Let it turn me into a pillar of light.
Jenny Williamson’s writing has been featured in 24Mag, Wild River Review, Poetic Voices, and in Philadelphia’s Writing Aloud series. She has also received recognition from the Academy of American Poets and NPR’s Young Poets Series.
Poetry from Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia
Leapt
“Two teardrops floating down the river”
Whisperin’ Bill Anderson
Having no need for discussion
but enjoying a conversation
God told Lucifer
about plans for Adam
As cheeks puffed up
Lucifer leapt
Went down chasing nostalgia
before it
-they-
hit the river
to be lost
forever.
Tears fall faster than angels do
and as the dawn breeze cut across
the land and Adam arose,
the garden found
water for thirsty seed.
Lucifer, in luck,
caught a couple
straggling drops
before Eden did
Holding tight to them
all heat gone
from hands
crystallized,
tucked them
down below
in mimicry of man.
The tree grew
and shape was changed momentarily
but most of all,
the imitation of the envied
remained
As further the spiral was assembled
As first Cain and Abel
then the others arrived
Until even the inner sanctum
of melancholy was invaded,
traversed,
and Dante caught glimpse
of much treasured tears
icy
below the waist
so maybe God
wouldn’t know
the difference between hate and hiding
So maybe the commonality
of want and wait
could be kept secret.
Should Want For
There goes again
the pass over
Where’s all this time to waste
as again given reprieve
for
from
what?
Shame spins webs
honest
and devoid
of ancient tricksters
In the silk of spidery ropes
of arachnid
highways
are words
threaded
Are spells to be cast
and curses broken
Should want for touch
be disobeyed
if missing, the gone-away
could keep back hands
to bring the fool further along the journey.
Together
Together remaining where occurrences can
undisturbed by air
Thought unexpressed for fear of suffocation
Fingers crossed behind back
differ from those brought into view
If on a winter’s night
travelers come upon
coral wound through
commercial, residential
districts
symbiosis will be best understood
Swimming by — of arms interlocked
against
quieting breeze.
Ideas away from exposure
may be preserved
but age becomes
time lost.
The squid’s ink
has been left runny
alongside where
pedestrians walk.
Following is a chore.
Form changes
Together maps –
isolates.
Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia is the editor of ALTPOETICS and author of Yawning on the Sands, This Sentimental Education and What Do the Evergreens Know of Pining. After growing up in Brooklyn, NY, upstate has become home and is where the past few years were spent cooking and getting a degree in linguistics. More work can found at kjpgarcia.wordpress.com.
Poetry from Dave Douglas
He met his new partner
In the inner-city trenches
Wrapped in neck tattoos
Reflected off the graffiti
Of the perspiring walls
Out of the corner of his eye
He saw the calculations
Triggered by sensory input
Enabling targeted algorithms
Which exceeded intuition