And All the Best
False teeth, filled platters, diffident brides
derided.
Summer or was it fall come and gone.
Halitosis appeared but no one was identified.
The smartness of narrative was never more apparent.
A lovely quality to applause;
cheek to cheek
dancers wink,
toes in,
elbows out,
only to find
while not abandoned
they've been mistaken.
Forward to where
night looms and spider webs occupy empty drawers.
Who pauses on the stairs?
Two macaques imprisoned screech.
And who would capitulate
even if indicted?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Taste and Such
Bitter(?),
though the taste be sweet?
Less,
much less, than I ever thought I would be.
* Frank Praeger lives in Houghton, MI
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Monday, August 18
Ten new poems by Frank Praeger
by
Charles Christian
on Mon 18 Aug 2008 10:22 AM BST
Sunday, August 17
New prose poetry by William Doreski
by
Charles Christian
on Sun 17 Aug 2008 09:53 AM BST
Harvard Divinity School
Upstairs in the library old men in seersucker jackets, their hands speckled like snakeskin, shudder over the problems of theology. No need to remind them that flesh is no more ignorant than the pages of those books, and far more transparent. They've surely read their livers spots, their knobby warts like stones in a field. But books, unlike the body, pulp down to the sort of candor in which Augustine confesses that God is the ultimate absence and Blake reminds us that worlds tremble, deflate like beach balls, and crawl under things to die. The heavy blond wood tables, the unabridged dictionary on its pedestal, the smell of glue and sulfide paper all conspire to lull us into trust of antiquity. The old men move their lips as they strain through dusty bifocals to puzzle out the Greek or Latin they labored to learn in their youth. Most of them are broken-veined, bronzed from too much sun and liquor. Summers on sailboats in Maine or Nantucket and winter trips to Italy have rendered them conversant with the familiar deities of sun and sea. But the nether gods have failed to teach them that the silence of age is hard-earned, that the scars they bear are their own, that faith is difficult and pitched so low only those who've grown old and deaf in a good cause may hear it murmur in the blood-rush under the skin. * William Doreski says "My stuff has appeared in a bunch of magazines and several shabby books, most recently Another Ice Age (AA Publishers, 2007)." Saturday, August 16
New haiga by John Irvine
by
Charles Christian
on Sat 16 Aug 2008 01:20 PM BST
 * John Irvine is a regular contributor to IS&T – he is based in New Zealand with delusions of immortal failure and a cynical view of life. And check out Sunday 10 August's posting about a new publishing venture he is organising. Friday, August 15
Bobby Parker takes a haircut
by
Charles Christian
on Fri 15 Aug 2008 01:50 PM BST
The Haircut
Debbie cut my hair today. Mom paid for it, and it always makes me feel like a rotten failure that I have to rely on my mother for haircuts. For all I care it could grow and make children scream or whatever, but I suppose it makes my mom happy to be relied upon for haircuts and frozen dinners from her giant freezer in the shed. As Debbie was snip-snip-snipping away at my hair I could see flakes of my dandruff snowing all over the strange silky apron she drapes across my front; Debbie is fairly good-looking and I sometimes can’t help having a sneaky peak at her ass, but today I didn’t want to have a sneaky peek because I was embarrassed about my dandruff and who wants to be ogled at by someone wearing a strange silky apron covered with dandruff? . . . And then something funny got stuck in my head. It’s always the same when you get something funny stuck in your head and you know it isn’t the time to be chuckling like a lunatic; Debbie would think I was a nut, just bouncing up and down with the funny thing in my head and her snip-snip-snipping those razor sharp scissors right near my ears. I might end up in the Van Gogh club! ‘‘Oh yes, my ear was severed due to mirth related spasms and a fairly good-looking hairdresser with a nice ass.’’ But the funny thing in my head wouldn’t go away, my body was trembling and I was biting into my lip with tears in my eyes until I became distracted by an aggressive itch on the back of my neck, you know the type, an itch that makes your arms go all jerky before you can tackle it. And then she ran her small electric shaver quite vigorously over exactly where the itch was and I could have moaned with relief. It was over and mom paid her for the haircut. I hung my head in shame. The nice ass slipped away into a world of rain and funny things, and my head felt light and the air from an open window whistled around my ears (thankfully still intact). – Right now, I have forgotten what the funny thing was. It could have been anything. It could have been the dandruff or the thought of having a sneaky peek at her ass. It could have been anything. It could have been my life. * Bobby Parker is 25, lives in Kidderminster (England) has poems published/accepted in/by Agenda, Obsessed With Pipework, Fire, Iota, Rain Dog, Cauldron, The Coffee House, Curlew, Krax, Weyfarers, Purple Patch and Urban District Writers. Thursday, August 14
A double sonnet by Ken Head
by
Charles Christian
on Thu 14 Aug 2008 12:36 PM BST
As Good As Gone
Moonlight bright as day and cleaner slices between broken-open houses waiting for the demolition crews and a row of battered skips stuffed full of goods and chattels left behind by families who lived here not so long ago but’ve been moved on to free up space for the future. Rats skitter among heaped-up plastic bin bags shining like jaundiced black gold under the only street light, oily JCB’s stand nose to tail and the last bar, defiance blazing through steamed-up glass, stares fate in the eye from across the street. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The young nurse who asks kindly if you’ve any questions about the procedure while she double-checks your paperwork just in case, can’t be much more than twenty-four or thereabouts. No, you say, not after so many years. She smiles and in her eyes you think you see the quick connection: “When this one was first diagnosed, I was twelve. He’s been coming here half my life”. She’s right, you have, but measuring your luck afresh every time you face a new appointment still leaves you feeling helpless, hollowed-out, a promising project once, maybe, but these days getting expensive to maintain. * Ken Head's poetry weblog is at www.listeningforlight.blogspot.com and he'll appreciate your dropping in to browse and maybe leave a comment if you're passing. Wednesday, August 13
Geoff's new exhibition
by
Charles Christian
on Wed 13 Aug 2008 06:10 PM BST
 Regular IS&T contributor Geoff Stevens has got an art exhibition coming up at The Crossings at St.Pauls, in the centre of Walsall. It runs from August 23 to September 29 and admission is free. Here's one of the pieces that will be on show – and in the meantime Geoff offer some thoughts on organic love... ORGANIC LOVE Raised in natural surroundings free range no added colouring no preservatives. But would you pay more for it?
Bill West finds that every little helps
by
Charles Christian
on Wed 13 Aug 2008 12:17 PM BST
Little Helps The
house wept. Inconsolable sobbing woke them. The lights flickered on,
glared with klaxon grief then dimmed to a pallid glow. The house
computer whimpered. Tina spoke kindly to it and started to ask it
questions but Jim cut the power and rebooted the operating system.
The diagnostic screen said, “Out of love.” They looked at each other. Then got dressed and drove to Tesco's. The car park was nearly empty. Inside cheerless assistants drifted up and down the aisles. Some stacked shelves. Jim thought he knew where he could find love but this was a new store and everything had changed. So many new products -- cheaper bargains had elbowed out the commodities they had grown up with. They found the familiar blue and white branding of the value range and carefully selected and purchased two Third World orphans and an elderly Ghanaian lady to work as a Nanny. Every little helps. * Bill West lives in rural Shropshire. He is a member of the Shrewsbury Scribblers Writers Group and member of a number of online writers communities. He is group host for the WriteWords Flash Fiction One Group. His work has appeared in Right Hand Pointing, Boston Literary Magazine, FlashQuake, Mytholog, Heavy Glow, 21 Stars Review, Foliate Oak and other places. See his web page at http://www.writewords.org.uk/bill_west/ Tuesday, August 12
Helen Pletts has gone travelling
by
Charles Christian
on Tue 12 Aug 2008 04:45 PM BST
Travelling
You have been travelling with me for decades; even before you were born; your toothbrush next to mine in my suitcase, the bristles damp from the cold water in our last hotel. I tipped the porter through your fingers; your napkin wiped my lower lip; clean, white linen you had straightened by your plate at dinner. There was a fold, a crease in the napkin, like the gristle-spine of a chicken carcass springing at my touch; indelibly pressed into the fibres, like my laundry tags with your name on. * Our commisserations to Helen Pletts, who seems to have spent half the summer undergoing root canal work at her local dentists. In a comment that is an object lesson in prose writing itself she adds... "had another root canal yesterday... just in time to enhance the bruises nicely from the last one... which had started to fade slightly... more likely to be mistaken for a boxing hare currently than a mad march poet(!)... had a nice little x-ray taken at the finish... shame I cannot send you one... a real memento of the whole pain thing... dancing in the black shadow of the plates were two little strange white trots which look as if they are eerily striding out beneath two hefty molars... with curled up toes like court jesters... maybe they will up-sticks and walk off to seek their fortune soon... one can never tell with teeth...!" We'll have more novacaine fuelled tales from Helen later this summer. Monday, August 11
Fresh shortcuts
by
Charles Christian
on Mon 11 Aug 2008 10:05 AM BST
We've got another collection of short items for you today by Tania Hershman, Vanessa Gebbie and Jim Murdoch but we start with a short flash piece (as if there could be a long flash piece) by Sarah Hilary which she wrote as a modern day response to the famous six word Hemingway story (the unworn baby shoes for sale)...
Passing on (an homage to Hemingway) For sale: Exquisite enamelled box with the words, “When this you see, remember me”, framed by a garland of forget-me-nots. Hinged lid. The base is fully marked. Please see pictures. To the inner lid there is a painting of a squirrel on a branch. In a very good condition, no cracks or damage. Absolutely no restoration. The gilt edge to the lid is still bright. Current bid: £0.99 End time: 2 hours 11 mins History: 0 bids • Sarah Hilary won the Fish Historical-Crime Contest with Fall River, August 1892. Her story The Eyam Stones was runner-up in the Historical Contest. Both stories will be published in the Fish anthology 2008. www.writewords.org.uk/sarah_hilary/ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Birthday cake So many candles. Granny, make a wish! I wish you'd all go home. I wish I were twelve. I wish I'd kissed Jimmy Sullivan and let him put his hand up my dress. Come on, Granny. I shut my eyes, and there's Jimmy, his clammy teenage hand creeping up my thigh. I blow out the candles. • Tania Hershman's first short story collection The White Road & Other Stories will be published by Salt in Sept 2008. Tania lives in Jerusalem, Israel, and is the founder and editor of The Short Review (www.theshortreview.com), dedicated to reviewing short story collections. Her own stories and short shorts have been variously published in print and on the web, visit www.taniahershman.com for more. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Bromeliads I like the word ‘bromeliad’ for some reason or for no reason at all. • Vanessa Gebbie writes "I have been hard at work today, writing a poem especially for IS&T. Deep n meaningful this is." (Hey Vanessa, if everyone spent their working days writing poetry, the world would be a better place. OK civilisation might collapse and we'd probably all starve but one out of three ain't bad ...Ed IS&T) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ If Only Pigs Could Fly Poems are words pushed to the very limit of meaning and then simply driven over the edge. Listen to them squeal as they fall. • Jim Murdoch is Scottish and his blog is http://jim-murdoch.blogspot.com/ Sunday, August 10
Latest news from readers and contributors
by
Charles Christian
on Sun 10 Aug 2008 04:41 PM BST
Here's a quick catch up on what some of Ink Sweat & Tears readers and contributors have been getting up to or are planning over the next few weeks...
• This coming Thursday (14th August) Hannah Silva is taking part in the London Poetry Systems at the Flea Pit, Columbia Road, London. The event, which features Hannah plus Under Da Poetree plus Catherine Martindale (Poeticat) plus LPS poets and AV artists, starts at 7:30pm, tickets £5 & £3. For more details visit www.londonpoetrysystems.com/LPS/Events.html • John Irvine of the Preshrunk Press in New Zealand is calling for submissions for a conceptual anthology of speculative poetry and art he is publishing in 2009. If you are a poet and/or an artist and are interested, please read the attached document Call for submissions.doc at the foot of this posting. • Snappy Day is a new CD of music and poetry from the Callander Poetry Weekend, which took place in Scotland earlier this year. The CD costs £5.50 and copies are available from Poetry Scotland www.poetryscotland.co.uk • Sandra Simpson has been in touch to draw our attention to the Katikati Haiku Competition being in New Zealand... Cash prizes totalling $NZ80 in the senior section; $NZ55 in the junior. Proceeds to the Katikati Haiku Pathway project. Send 2 copies of each poem with 1 copy only including your name & contact details (if entering in the junior section also include your age). For results send ssae or include e-mail address. Results will be announced during Katikati's Mural Festival (September 29-October 4) and winning poems published in Bravado literary journal. Send unpublished poems only (broadcast or appearance on the internet is deemed to constitute publication). Deadline: in hand August 30. Cost: 18 & over: $NZ5/3 haiku or $NZ2/haiku; or $US5/3 haiku or $US2/haiku. 17 & under: $NZ1 for up to 2 haiku or $US1/2 haiku. Send entries to: Katikati Haiku Contest, PO Box 183, Katikati, New Zealand. No email entries. Sandra is also the secretary of the New Zealand Poetry Society's Katikati Haiku Pathway committee – for details visit www.poetrysociety.org.nz/katikati-haiku-pathway • New York poet & singer-songwriter David Francis (we reviewed one of his CD's earlier this year) will be touring the UK in September. Here's the provisional gig list... September 5 Speakeasy Writers' Group, Milton Keynes (guest speaker) September 7 HFM 102-3 Radio, The Dave Charles Show, Market Harborough (interview) September 8 Beehive Poets, Bradford (featured poet) September 9 City Voices, Wolverhampton (poetry reading) September 10 Monochrome Museum (interview) September 12 Kontra Roots Club, Woodford (singer-songwriter) September 14 Wilmorton Poetry Group, Derby (poet & singer-songwriter) September 15 The Golden Fleece, Nottingham (featured singer-songwriter) September 17 209 Radio 105-FM, Headstand, Cambridge (interview) September 18 Mosaic Music Club, Leicester (featured singer-songwriter) September 25 Rhythm 'n' Muse, London (featured singer-songwriter)  1 Attachments |
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