—
Debbie Strange is a Canadian short form poet, haiga artist and photographer whose creative passions bring her closer to the world and to herself. She is the author of Warp and Weft: Tanka Threads (Keibooks 2015) and the haiku collection, A Year Unfolding (Folded Word 2017). Please visit her archive of published work at: Warp and Weft ~ Images and Words.
From an over-decorated kitchen –
leafy vegetables wilting in the fridge –
a fly caresses the only orange
in an all but empty glass fruit bowl.
A woman imagines the mountains
of the swirling sea, that spirals
down her stainless steel
sinkhole.
She loses her kitchen knives,
the covers of her pots and pans,
the partner to each pair
of slipper-socks,
the gunsmoke arguments,
her medical results,
and her keys.
The safety of her youth slips –
under the locked door and
out onto the streets.
—
Helina Hookoomsing is a short-story and poetry writer based in Mauritius. She was raised in London and is currently doing doctoral research in the field of anthrozoology. She has published poetry in the local Mauritian press and her short-stories have been published in editions of the trilingual Mauritian literary anthology, Collection Maurice. She facilitates creative writing clubs and workshops, and has performed at spoken word events around the island.
There is a skeleton
in the bathroom mirror:
starved and sexless.
So hollow I use her
clavicles and ilia
as percussion instruments.
Maybe I should be scared
of her wooden smile,
and empty glances.
But strangers stop me daily
to compliment her beauty,
and who am I to disagree?
—
Alixa Brobbey has loved writing since her childhood in a small Dutch town. She hopes work published in Canvas, The Battering Ram and others will lead to a career as a world-renowned author someday, but for now is content to obsess over Harry Potter and publish posts on her blog: Alixa Writes
Hollow out the darkness.
There will be a tunnel of night.
It won’t have a name,
but you will learn to call it
love-soft words as your breath
turns to glass. At the end,
someone slips you a handful
of coins. You buy fish and bread
and ale. Tomorrow you wake
to a hollowed out sun.
On your stoop, the newspaper
burns. You read through flames
until your eyes ignite.
Better, sometimes, to be blind.
The tunnel yawns as it waits
in the glossy dark to swallow your life.
—
Steve Klepetar lives in Saint Cloud, Minnesota. His work has received several nominations for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize, including four in 2016. Recent collections include Family Reunion (Big Table), A Landscape in Hell (Flutter Press), and How Fascism Comes to America (Locofo Chaps).
—
Marianne Paul is a Canadian poet and novelist. She won the 2016 Jane Reichhold Memorial Haiga Competition multi-media category, and the 2016 Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku International, Canadian division. To learn more of her work, visit mariannepaul.com and literarykayak.com.
summer heat
fingerprints
in soft chocolate
—
Mark Gilbert is a published writer of short poetry and prose who was first inspired by Raymond Chandler and Jack Kerouac.
The seas of October
were calm and
the moon hung
like a small ocean
in the sky
Little globes
of Noctiluca
spilled liquid fire
and animals tinier than
radiance sparkled visible
in the cold metal sea
It was as if
a mirror had been created
to slip through,
and so I did
as a sand grain drifting
between rain and sea moss
Under the wind
a fisherman’s oar—
abandoned.
Darling, if
the sky
was sustained
under water
the beauty of things
should return
—
Jeanie Tomasko is the author of several books of poetry, The Collect of the Day being the most recently published. Two other chapbooks are forthcoming in 2017. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband, Steve and two new beehives in the backyard.
ocean poem
an anemone. anonymity. sink to sea lush carpet, tentacles grasping
ungraspable gold filters, tiny algae. a vibrating star.
grass poem
wistful field mice burrowed homes around
our heat, the heat of our fingers, our breath.
sky poem
slow lick of clouds, soft pink descent.
when we were sky geese dotted our bodies like freckles; lightning crackled our veins.
—
Tara Roeder is the author of two poetry chapbooks, and her work has appeared in multiple venues including The Bombay Gin, THRUSH, and 3:AM Magazine. She is an Associate Professor of Writing Studies in New York City.
The black plastic bag
flutters across the street
in the spring breeze.
Bright pink and yellow candy
wrappers bloom in the grass
that belongs to no one.
Venti cups of last night’s
mocha frappucinos
roll in the gutter with empty pens
on their way to the ocean.
—
Marianne Szlyk edits The Song Is…. Her chapbook, I Dream of Empathy, was published by Flutter Press. She is working on another chapbook. Her poems appear in a variety of venues including Of/with, bird’s thumb, Solidago, Figroot Press, and Cactifur.
abandoned home
the weight of dust
on a cobweb
—
Billy Antonio is a poet, writer, and public school teacher. Some of his fiction and poetry have been published in Tincture Journal, Poetry Quarterly, Red River Review, and Anak Sastra, among others. His poetry has won international recognition. He lives in the Philippines with his wife and daughters.
