The myth of the truth is...
Poor Dolores, sitting there beneath the assault
prodding and prying for "truth"
Did you know the moon faced boy?
Did you scent musk of crazy earth?
Her eyes rinse, widen, shakes her heads
conviction and denial
and when the results are revealed
to finger twisting audience
it is no longer truth they wish for
but lust the machine's lies
for the polygraph is right
science says so
we can't refute science
And when she contradicts
(shouts and rapturous applause)
they have what they want
condemned by her words
even though she stirs, cries, tears
and disbelief is horror in her throat
they crowd on in with sharpened sticks
• Dave Migman
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Wednesday, June 27
New piece by Dave Migman
by
Charles Christian
on Wed 27 Jun 2007 12:28 AM BST
Friday, June 22
Spring Gleaning by Dave Migman
by
Charles Christian
on Fri 22 Jun 2007 06:42 PM BST
Spring Gleaning
Pinos Genil is bloomed out bliss donkeys grazing beneath scents folded ducks by languid waters little houses perched on rocks There is no hand in mine today and the sun casts no shadow I am a breeze blown feather arriving, moving on – arriving I take the dust bath of scooters I chew the silver line to Granada Pink blooms encrust the trees ducks blink lazy water There is no shadow on donkey's eyes there is no hand top grip Wishing I could catch the scent and bloom like that alone. • Dave Migman says "As for myself I am a nomadic type. Constantly moving. Currently in Edinburgh but was living in Spain, before that Glasgow. For a living I carve & engrave stone (Celtic, Pictish, Viking, Neolithic designs, thousands of different designs), this enables me to make money in the summer and get away for the darker months. My writing has been published here and there in the UK over the past five or six years. Some work online. I also do a lot of artwork/illustration, samples of which you can view here http://migmart.blogspot.com/ Wednesday, June 20
And now for something different
by
Charles Christian
on Wed 20 Jun 2007 02:35 PM BST
Ink Sweat & Tears has produced a promotional postcard to help spread the word about the webzine. You can pin it on a wall, pass it on to friends, circulate it to colleagues on creative writing courses and in writing circles, use it to submit a poem (OK a short poem or a haiku) or even use it as... as a postcard. If you would like to receive some copies (free of charge) just email postcards@legaltechnology.com (don't let the URL put you off, that's the day job) and we will send you some.
 Monday, June 18
New poem by Helen Ivory
by
Charles Christian
on Mon 18 Jun 2007 07:10 PM BST
When
Harnessed to the town hall clock, you send seconds like wild horses loose into the sky. You decide the very moment of birth, how much to fill a glass. Unlocking you will find a killer, a liar, a thief. Pale shadows of you are under the eyes of a young woman as she waits at the station watches an empty train arrive sees it open its doors for no one to get off. • Helen Ivory's second collection of poems The Dog in the Sky was published by Bloodaxe last year. Thursday, June 14
Two poems from Laura Scott
by
Charles Christian
on Thu 14 Jun 2007 02:33 PM BST
Ink Eyes
Suppose it was you who started all of this, your faith and easy swagger as you stood in front of me, words falling like silk from your sleeves. What shall I do now – press my palm in your print to see if our lines intersect? If I looked long enough maybe I’d find your deepest line and then I could follow its inky course to the place where words wait under mud flats for those who know how to get them out. Or should I look at my own hand, turning it over and running my thumb across the soft underbelly of knuckle, tracing the faint lines that web and star like lace blown across a window pane? I could write out those lines again and again to see if they take me anywhere. Your hands are bigger than mine, they always will be, but mine, I suppose, have more lines. - - - - - - - - - Sapling I look at him crying by my side as we walk home like horses through the thin rain. Someone has told him time is like sand and days are not to be wasted. And that is why you weep – your element is changing. I remember sitting on the floor with you swaddled imperfectly in my arms and as I looked at you the room went quiet and grey, and I bent my neck to hear you softly breathing, the smell of truth still fresh around you. And I think it was then my love changed colour, as it was cut with fear. I look at you now my sapling boy, with your head bent against the rain, bean stalk legs itching to take you to the place where the colour crept in as you slept in my arms. • Laura Scott lives in Norwich and started writing poetry about a year ago. This is her first appearance on Ink Sweat & Tears. Wednesday, June 13
Gone - by Padrika Tarrant
by
Charles Christian
on Wed 13 Jun 2007 03:01 PM BST
Gone
Gone My arms clutch silence I hold sky against my heart So very empty • Paddy Tarrant is another of our favourite contributors. Her new book Broken Things will be published in September. Tuesday, June 12
IS&T is recruiting - for contributors
by
Charles Christian
on Tue 12 Jun 2007 10:55 AM BST
Ink Sweat & Tears is looking for more contributors. We've already got over 1000 regular monthly readers – which is more than many poetry magazines manage in a lifetime and we've being going for less than six months – so why not submit your work to us and reach a wider – and global – audience?
You know the type of material we like: prose poetry, haibun and haiku and – taking advantage of the technology – e-poetry in all its various manifestations. Submissions by email only to charles@legaltechnology.com (don't be frightened by the URL, that's just the day job). We'll also shortly have a promotional IS&T postcard available for you to hand to your friends and classmates or just pin to the wall. It will be available free of charge – more news to follow. Monday, June 11
Waiting by Phuoc-Tan Diep
by
Charles Christian
on Mon 11 Jun 2007 03:17 PM BST
Waiting
12pm I hate waiting - always have. 1pm Memories are littered with queues springing up ambushing me whilst I rushed for trains and zoo visits in torrential rain marred by people with umbrellas leaping out from under trees. 2pm I wished, back in the twenty first century, that I had time to watch the tigers. 3pm I waited in lines with other passive aggressives whilst many tigers died. 4pm I wasted so much time that tigers became extinct. 5pm Luckily I found the secret of eternal life by accident, whilst waiting in the Post Office. 6pm The secret is to hold onto life so tightly that none of it can slip through your hands. 7pm In time it became effortless. 8pm The problem, as I found out, is letting go. 9pm I searched for the wisest minds in all the earth and beyond. 10pm I waited in long queues to see them. 11pm They did not know - how I could let go. Wisdom, they said, is not holding on so tightly in the first place. 12am I still hate waiting, even with all the time in the world. • P-T D is a regulat contributor to IS&T – and says this latest piece was inspired by work he did on an online creative writing course at UEA. Sunday, June 10
Two new poems by Michael Lee Johnson
by
Charles Christian
on Sun 10 Jun 2007 10:04 AM BST
Catch On The Fly
Full barrel up 53 north, heading to Lake Zurich, IL, Christian talk radio 1660 on the radio dial, crisp winter day sunbeams dancing down on the pavement like midgets. 85 mph in a 65 mph zone, just to aggravate the police, black Chevy S10 pick up, shows what a deviant I am in dark colors. Running late for a client appointment, creating poems on a small hand held recorder knowing there is not payment for this madness in this little captured taped area of words. Headlights down the highway for a legacy into the future, day dreaming like a fool obsessed. Working out the layout of this poem or getting my ego in place, I will catch up with the imagery when I get back home. This is my life, a poem in the middle of the highway. Scampering, no one catches me when I’m speeding like this. - - - - - - - - - Wind Chimes The wind chimes on the balcony today, different sounds in all different directions – my thoughts follow them. • Michael Lee Johnson is a regular contributor to IS&T Friday, June 8
A new piece by Chris Major
by
Charles Christian
on Fri 08 Jun 2007 08:33 PM BST
Scene
A shiny, fat black full stop, dribbles its inky procession past skater kids flipping cigs and 'tricks' as I, suddenly awkward, watch an old man remove a cap – stand and still stock • Christopher Major is a regular contributor to IS&T. |
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