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The Potato Eaters
Her back is to us, but her head tilts toward the plate filled with creamy light and jacketed potatoes: the aureate center, the corolla of this domestic tableau. A touch of Hansa yellow tempts us to smell butter, but it could be merely the amber glow of the ambergris flame,…
I Am Shadow
I am shadow I demarcate one blade of grass from its brother and unite objects together on the wall hat-stand couch- corner pot-plant I make shape out of line and frame form I follow and lead I am shadow black bird in water twin in air I take flights of…
Dolly
Got myself a crying, talking, sleeping, walking, living doll – Cliff Richard, 1960 As soon as you see her you'll recognize she's one of them by the bruises on her padded thigh, burns on her cotton rag arms stitches undone on her forehead, hair full of knots, lacquer peeling and…
The Boghole
I poured the milk into the cup of hot black tea until the surface clouded over and lightened with coils of steam, like the genie of memory rising out from the uncorked bottle of the forgotten. The turf-brown tea settled at the brim of the cup, as silent as the…
Thirteen
There are as many years in you as witches in a coven, devil's dozen, number of steps to the noose, no use to rub a rabbit's foot or knock on wood, you've had one too many birthdays than you should twelve years they served Chedorlaomer and the thirteenth they rebelled…
Living Room
for Owen For now the war is silent, folded on the coffee table, inky smudge of smoke, young man's dark eyes left to stare at the ceiling. Tomorrow he'll be recycled. There are many ways to disappear but we've planted ourselves right here. We've painted our living room red, hung…
Table for Three
Table for Three Oh child among the roses, oh press of doves, oh presidio of fish and rosebushes your soul is a bottle of dried salts and a bell filled with grapes, your skin. Ode With a Lament Pablo Neruda Egg-yolk yellow police tape flaps in the morning breeze, delineates…
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Vanni Thach
Born in Cao Lanh, Vietnam. Raised in Camden, NJ. Received a BA at Bates College, Lewiston, ME. Graduated from McNeese State University, Lake Charles, LA with an MA in Literature and an MFA in Creative Writing. Recipient of the New Jersey State Council on the Arts Fellowship (Prose). Working to…
S.E. Ingraham
S.E. Ingraham pens poems from the 53rd parallel where she shares space with the love of her life, and an aging, loyal, but chocolate-stealing wolf/border collie cross. When she isn't writing, or compulsively straightening public works of art (hence the ever present pocket-level)...she admits to uber-grand-parenting, a lust for travel,…
Sarah Rice
Sarah Rice is a Canberra based art-theory lecturer, visual artist and writer. Her limited-edition letterpress book of poetry, Those Who Travel (prints by Patsy Payne, Ampersand Duck, 2010) is held in the permanent collection of the National Gallery of Australia. She was shortlisted in the 2013 Montreal Poetry Prize, co-won…
Paul McMahon
Paul McMahon is from Belfast, but is currently living in Sligo on the west coast of Ireland. He holds an MA in Writing, with first class honours, from NUI, Galway. His poetry has been widely published in journals such as The Threepenny Review, The Salt Anthology of New Writing, The…
Meryl Natchez
Meryl Natchez' most recent book is a bilingual volume: Poems From the Stray Dog Café: Akhmatova, Mandelstam and Gumilev. She is co-translator of Tadeusz Borowski: Selected Poems, and contributor to Against Forgetting: Twentieth-Century Poetry of Witness. Her book of poems, Jade Suit, appeared in 2001. Her poems and translations have…
Lois Elaine Heckman
Lois Elaine Heckman was born and raised in Los Angeles, where she received a degree in Italian from UCLA. A charming Italian man beguiled her quite a long time ago, and she has ever since made her home with him in Milan, Italy. They have two wonderful children and three…
Celia Stuart-Powles
Celia Stuart-Powles has had work published in journals which include: Atlanta Review, Fugue, The Distillery, Nimrod, Prairie Schooner, and others. Her work has also appeared in the anthologies which include Erotic Haiku edited by Hiroaki Sato, and Best of Hawaii Pacific Review. She currently resides in Oklahoma where she works…
Caitlin Doyle
Caitlin Doyle is a poet, educator, and Long Island native. Her poetry has appeared in The Atlantic, The Threepenny Review, Boston Review, Black Warrior Review, Measure, and several other journals and magazines. Caitlin's poems have also been featured in a variety of book anthologies, including the Best New Poets series…
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Last Call to Enter the 13th Annual Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest
Winning Writers seeks the best humor poems for its 13th annual Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest, deadline April 1. There's no fee to enter; $2,000 in prizes will be awarded. Read the complete release.
Last Call to Enter the 13th Annual Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest Sponsored by Winning Writers
Winning Writers seeks the best humor poems for its 13th annual Wergle Flomp Humor Poetry Contest, deadline April 1. There’s no fee to enter; $2,000 in prizes will be awarded.
Stuart Anderson and Nancy Lee
About Stuart Anderson I grew up on a 40-acre family farm in western Washington, then moved to the big city to study mathematics and physics, which I now teach at the University of Washington Instructional Center. Although I have always written poetry, I have seldom submitted any for publication. In…
Winter Moon (A Soldier’s Thoughts)
I. Winter moon, I sleep under you tonight. Such weak, white you shed. I am incomplete, unfed. I walk in half-bled light, Mistrust my calloused sight. Bitter, burned and insufficient, I search out signs to find some depth. Inert spirit, please proclaim time, My name, what leavens shame (my daily…
Cleansing, Let Us Prey
CLEANSING Flayed skins flutter in dry wind, bodiless, breathing without lungs while the sun creates new leather. Someone has draped them over fence pickets, translucent pink shreds impaled on wooden teeth. In our trampled garden, my daughter crouches beside corn stubble, hands dripping from the laundry bucket. She has wrung…
Proverbs in Time of War
A watched pot never boils. And what if it does? A stitch in time from the army doctor got Branka back on her feet, so she could work to buy food for her shiftless husband, her five children, her mother, her grandmother, and the orphan girl. Just as well for…
Sarel and Samson
Preface Since 1945 Africa has been embroiled with the politics and aspirations of “emerging nations”. Portuguese East Africa or Mocambique, was an old ally and neighbour of South Africa. These two countries PEA and South Africa, had the apartheid type indoctrination, but by 1968 the changes came in avalanches. South…
Gunner Tries to Die, Gunner Tells What Happened, Gunner Apologizes for Not Shooting
GUNNER TRIES TO DIE The sea rolls off the end of the world. Somewhere in the sky is Nam. In the invisible jungle the Unknown Buddy wades in the infected Muck, twigs in his hat, face Painted green and black, elbows Cradle the AK-47 Swing at night in the thick…
Past Liberty
So calm in this neon-lit room, the first slow descents of twilight bathe the Hudson as a ship's horn echoes out past Liberty. Each glance now feels like a stock refrain: watching the glowing reds then blues crossing your parted lips, I think how much that we love of life…
Documentary, Afghanistan
At twelve, she hasn't learned how to keen. In this season where smoke and bodily debris screen the sky's windy absence of rain, women's voices ullulate lament and lay mouths to kiss crumbs of earth graves dug by old men and boys. Aiming at the camera, bony-shouldered boys flaunt rusting…
Campaign: 1943-1946
What's the use remembering? Those years have grown vague, shriveled to mere sentiments, the pup tent shelter-halves folded in some tax supported dump rotted by time and mildew until unsalvageable for sale as surplus even as playthings for a new generation of kids to camp beneath. That fiction in which…
The Charge of the 196th Light Infantry Brigade, Choicest Product of the Brewer’s Art
THE CHARGE OF THE 196TH LIGHT INFANTRY BRIGADE Ours was not to reason why as we piled out the black-ass end of deuce-and-a-halfs on a Boston Harbor wharf, alphabetically ranked and filed, inventoried for war. Prodded like penned cattle, ordered by officers strutting and crowing; barked at by sergeants nipping…
Decorum
I took your wife to triage in the rain, when she called me several times, out of breath and cried for your painting, drenched when moving— how the colors streaked the canvas like tears. I cupped my hands around our cigarettes and leaned in, to the smell of sulfur on…
The Cutters, Smokestack
THE CUTTERS We found the oak at dawn, a catastrophe of limbs stretched in stony lassitude, a dying Gaul, subdivided into eighteen, twenty bruised segments strewn across the meadow, unstacked, indecent, like Iraqi dead, an unfinished chore left by the cutters until morning. I remember a time when the world…
Portraiture
Introduction While in the hospital recovering from victory fatigue, I began drawing these portraits. I think it was important for my recovery for me to understand that everyone in the portraits was me. But also the portraits were portraits of other people, not to be confused with their meritocracies. I…
The Curse: A Fairy Tale for the New Millennium
(A Crown of Sonnets) As the seven angels were about to present their gifts to the newborn princess, there appeared an eighth angel, who had not been invited to the feast. This angel was not dressed in garments of lights, as were the other seven, but instead, was cloaked with…
USO Dance: Colorado Springs, 1944
Our sliding feet whisper on the dance floor Like a sentry's challenge in the night. Dancing against the circle of the clock, Dancing in the dark, Time like the dark we cannot penetrate, Time flowing to a port where we embark. The wire is taut that sets the booby trap.…
A Journal of the War Years
“This is a phantom war and therefore in need of an anniversary.”—Susan Sontag, The New York Times 9/10/02 0/0/00 Border skirmishes revealed a previously unknown enemy cell. They live in trees and toss leaves at the troops. There is no defense to this new attack. They tried to clear cut…
Waiting for Him
Fort Bragg, North Carolina She watches from the front brick steps as the dogwoods and crepe myrtle bloom in the receding air, holding onto hope like a blighted fruit in the palm of her hand. After all these years still the hope, with her three kids and busted marriages, and…
Surfacing, The Gyroscope
SURFACING We waited out the war, enfolded in heartsfoil In the aluminum resin of ventricular time Observing a world encased in tinsel Wrapped up in the ether jumpsuit of snow The walls were as frail as a fontanel The days were lungs, filled with feeble aspirations The earth groaned with…
You Haven’t Killed Anyone
For Derek, a Marine training in Mississippi, who sometimes jokes that he's a “baby killer”. You say it the way you might return a forkful of green beans to your plate for a moment before biting: “Let's get this out of the way so we can really eat.” A Michigan…
Summer Rain, Two Lights
SUMMER RAIN This is the season people die here, she said, Death comes for them now. Sometime between the end of winter and the rains, the rains of summer. And the funerals followed that summer like social engagements, a ball, then another ball one by one, like debutantes uncles and…
The Choreography of Four Hands Descending
That day in September, the smoke evacuated even the pressed scent of cider from our skin, red apples went black in mid air before gripping the grass near the tree, split grins turned down where the juice dribbled swiftly to lick up the blaze. One at a time, they rolled…
Hunger Strike at Sincon Prison
Starvation seems sustenance itself. Sometimes, the images beneath her eyelids are clean and cool, water rocking through her brain, then hot - she can't remember why she's here. She remembers only dust. Her body's a flare, shot over Cell Block F. A desert wind lifts off the roof, the prisoners…
The Altar
Tableau: surprised by unexpected glare, on tables shared with the hermetic dead displaced to make a sacred space, a pair of whores; and I, left hand above my head still on the light cord, right hand on my Colt; and five GIs to do the ancient act, their pants pulled…
Chandra Toucher
Chandra Toucher has been writing poetry since she can remember. She graduated with a BA in English, during which time she completed a 60-page manuscript entitled Darkroom Woman. Her work has been published in The Paragon Review (Colorado, 2001), and she is in the process of returning to school for…
Michael Swan
Michael Swan lives near Oxford, England, and works in English language teaching. He has been writing poetry for many years, has been published widely in magazines, and has won a number of prizes. His first collection, When They Come for You, was published recently by The Frogmore Press.
Gerry McFarland
Gerry McFarland lives with his wife, writes poetry and walks his dog in Seattle. He has worked in bush bean picking, carpentry, sheet metal, spent time in the US Navy (1968-1972), technical writing, psychotherapy and social work. He graduated from Antioch University Seattle with a Masters in Psychology in 1990.…
Mark Mansfield
Mark Mansfield is a document analyst and musician living in Arlington, Virginia. He received his M.A. in Writing from Johns Hopkins. His work has recently appeared (or is forthcoming) in Antietam Review, California Quarterly, Confluence (second place in 2003 contest), The Evansville Review, Front Range, Good Foot, The Ledge, Laughing…
