Our Fall 2013 Issue is now available featuring poetry by Dan Alter, Marcia F. Brown, Alessandro Carrera, Blanca Castellon, Sergio Badilla Castillo, David Cope, Carl Dennis, Leigh Donaldson, Patrick Doyle, Michael Estabrook, Gerald George, Myronn Hardy, Nancy Jean Hill, Petar Matovic, John McKernan, Jefferson Navicky, Marko Pogacar, Ivana Rogar, John J. Ronan, Ron Salutsky, J.B. Sisson, Victoria Surliuga, Mark Terrill, Jeffrey Thomson, and Sara Toruno-Conley.
The issue features poems translated from their original languages by Kim Addonizio, Dunja Bahtijarevic, Roger Hickin, Tomislav Kuzmanovic, Dona Massini, Anthony Mccann, Michael Palma, and Ivana Rogar.
In Memoriam
Christopher R. Cox
1955–2013
Poems
The True Self
by Carl Dennis You have to keep alert if you want to distinguish Between a man giving by nature And a man selfish by nature Who’d like to become
To My Neighbors (This Morning My Flesh is a Lowered Flag)
by Marko Pogacar Honey melts in tea, completely, unlike you with serious music, and unlike me in you, the tense wire of the never–ending
To The Gardener
by Marko Pogacar Rosehips in garden beds, no–one expresses opinions, figs, dried and fresh, both hollowed out with beaks, overhead an
Light, Something Forthcoming
by Marko Pogacar Like half of a peach in its southern sweetness. like raspberries, like peas. a cow mooing out of the white alliance of bones.
Thunder Lot
by Petar Matovic The asphalt lane of the street has kicked out the television picture, now these dimensions are mixed. Silicon pollen
Corridor
by Petar Matovic The paths spread out like a sediment from an overturned cup of coffee, chaotic visions. Automobiles in the rush hour: the sudden
Curtains
by Petar Matovic for J. Hristic In the night, if you go out to the balcony, you will not see the stars you will not see anything. Because
Sleeping Through It
by Jeffrey Thomson When the tree came down across the fence in the night and blustered its barky limbs across the lawn, missing our bed and room
When We Read
by Ivana Rogar Poems are souls on paper, Covering pages like snow, Mile after mile. Reading them we walk the poet’s paths And the paths become
Birth
by Blanca Castellón In the midst of today’s death a poem was born alone so alone its cactus body stores water for days of thirst. Translated by
From B. to B.
by Blanca Castellón ( When I lose myself ) Dear Blanca I haven’t seen you of late you’ve been insubstantial ethereal transparent and all those
Vademecum
by Blanca Castellón “To be, or not to be: that is the question” — W. S. To be a poet the main thing is to be a poet no matter if you wear a
Dark Matters
by John J. Ronan In a universe of unidentified dark Matter, no wonder you wake, Anxious in the a.m.’s Bleak bedroom, Roof exploded and you
Time
by Myronn Hardy But this is for a time. A time that slides down branches. A time seen in mirrors as a trapezoid of light in constant tremor. A
Recite
by Myronn Hardy But I thought this was love. The beginning ending the sugar maples’ first leaves. The becoming of someone else more at
Days of Tempest
by Sergio Badilla Castillo Wang Wei is confused. What disturbance makes him think of Li Yuan? Does the storm like a rat gnaw Tang Dynasty from
Thinking of Kandinsky and Gabriele Münter
by Sergio Badilla Castillo My nickname is conspicuous here in Munich’s bohemian quarter among orthodox Jews and immigrants from the East. In the
Lobby
by Sergio Badilla Castillo In Avellaneda Pizarnik surprises me with a look of devastation wrought by the sullen city’s shadows. Each of us has
End Song
by Sergio Badilla Castillo Something made Vallejo afraid in public places, on the side streets adjoining the Jardin de Luxembourg / in ’20s Paris
March
by David Cope white dawnlight thru my windows, thru fronds of cycad & spathphylum — fierce light after months of storm & sigh, turning
Storm over Michigan Avenue, Midnight Market Dreams
by David Cope unspoken sorrow of upturned faces, crowds on Michigan Avenue scurrying, whispering their quick talk staving off the night —
Maternità
by Victoria Surliuga A woman: dressed in black, sitting on a rock, exhausted from the heat, counts the grains of sand fallen from her lap. She
Zeno In Love
by Alessandro Carrera Take the act of grasping for example. It is a gesture the enclosure of the soul does not explain. No desire arises that
The Allegory of Time
by Mark Terrill The broken mirror above the cracked sink in the cheap hotel room in the ancient harbor on the other side of the island seems to
Competitive Decadence
by Mark Terrill Between these meridians where pastoral alchemy is loosened on tough afternoons these attributes of tension and release
Open-Heart Burglary
by Mark Terrill In the postbellum antechamber of an old boatyard in Dithmarschen I brush the dust off a book and read how the ancient Chinese
Star Trek Episode
by Sara Toruño-Conley Another trip along the penny’s edge dropped into the pool: swallowed water, we, bags of water. Try this. When they take you
Thrush
by J. B. Sisson The day my wife’s due back from a long trip, I’ve stumbled on the soft corpse of a thrush beside the morning paper at the door.
Uncle Barber
by Jefferson Navicky My uncle is a barber. He cuts hair with a pair of chopsticks. People don’t know the difference. It’s like he’s tossing a
Officer Johnson
by Jefferson Navicky Inspired by Harper’s Magazine, March 2013 On the night of 23 March, I was summoned to 9 Berkeley Place, the home of Mr.
Eating People
by Jefferson Navicky I’m eating leftover people. They taste worse than I thought because they sold the company just before I ate them. I used to
Tides
by Michael Estabrook So Dad didn’t die when he was only 36 Dr. Zullo gave him an experimental drug that rolled the stomach cancer back out to sea
pfeiffer park, big sur
by Patrick Doyle the three of us trampled down pfeiffer park, big sur and commented about the arid dust on the trees & shrubbery. an antique
the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you
by Patrick Doyle the reason for the trials and tribulations of Jesus Christ are not because of anything that has been told. the truth is Jesus
last time I checked I was still alive
by Patrick Doyle loving you one hundred years ago was like the last living moment of a piece of birch before it gets put on another log to get
teens
by Patrick Doyle we cackled on the playground of eternity, while the see–saw of reality launched our feet closer to the stars, and then it
crocodile days
by Patrick Doyle Over the last few days I’ve felt like I have a crocodile on my body, all jade colored and sparkling like a beautiful
You Pond
by Patrick Doyle yr freckles are like triumphant little sunburns of beauty. every one of them is a lilypad on the pond of your soul. my swarm of
existential love seat
by Patrick Doyle hunting in the trees of Maine in 1969, a psychedelic phenomenon would launch itself like a pinetree version of NASA: a curious
Figment Three
by Gerald George He just kept buying them in antique stores, the old framed photoed faces with no names on the back, so many displaced
Figment Two
by Gerald George After old Archibald put in an espresso machine, all the poets in town sat in Archibald’s Grocery and Gas drinking espresso and
Witness Tree
by Marcia F. Brown On the Civil War battlefield at Gettysburg, historians call them “Witness Trees” . . . Last week, Park officials
Fashionista
by Marcia F. Brown Too brown for winter and brittle as a wishbone, she marches through the store in ostrich boots, stilettos spiked enough to
Tomatoes, summer’s first
by Dan Alter and this one is for Michigan, for her latticed rivers, for her fireflies tickering the dark which is made of muslin, which cloaks
Flown-over and over
by Dan Alter wasn’t I the one who put on collars, dry cleaned, and walked leafy in the commuter crowd trembling like bible pages, and didn’t you
Lewis Carroll’s Corpse Poem
by John McKernan Your coffin is ready Sir Packed full of air It will weigh As much as ten million needles Sir Admit it to the grooves in
Arthur Rimbaud’s Poem About America
by John McKernan The menagerie of sunset erodes the stars Cans of tuna squid abalone in morphine Rise before dawn like a god with a machete
Down to Earth
by Leigh Donaldson Her face is contorted with love, dry, brown, cracked like coffee grains left too long in A red clay cup; cradling the dregs of
Firehouse
by Leigh Donaldson The silent group sits in front of a building made of brick and mortar that houses shiny, red, toy–like trucks. They
Dead-Dog Grief
by Nancy Jean Hill Consider, if you will, a middle–aged man scattering ashes into a wicked winter sea while his wife stays in their marital
Bloom Day
by Ron Salutsky My friend the heroin addict & recovering Catholic used to cross herself after she tied off and when the redluscious
Watching The Station Agent in Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, Republic of Costa Rica
by Ron Salutsky The dwarf came to on the train tracks after a night of heavy drinking following the part where everything quiets down and two
Reviews
Translations from the Flesh
by Elton Glaser, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2013, $15.95, 85 pages, paper, ISBN: 978-0-8229-6234-2. Buy the Book The first time I stumbled
As Long as Trees Last
by Hoa Nguyen, Wave Books, 2012, 69 pages, paper, ISBN: 978-1933517612. Buy the Book Next time I’ll crack more pepper also knead more cheese in
Poet Biographies
Sara Toruño – Conley
lives in San Francisco. She is the Poetry Review Editor for Boxcar Poetry Review, and her poetry has appeared in Ginosko, Temenos, Monday Night,
Jeffrey Thomson
is the author of four books of poems, including Birdwatching in Wartime, winner of the 2010 Maine Book Award and the 2011 ASLE Award in
Mark Terrill
shipped out of San Francisco as a merchant seaman to the Far East and beyond, studied and spent time with Paul Bowles in Tangier, Morocco, and
Victoria Surliuga
is an Associate Professor of Italian at Texas Tech University. She is a scholar of modern and contemporary Italian poetry and Italian cinema, a
J. B. Sisson
has published poems, stories, plays, essays, and translations from French, German, and Russian in Poetry, The Paris Review, and Agni as well as
Ron Salutsky
is a native Kentuckian who lives in Tallahasse, Florida. A Ph.D. candidate in English at Florida State, he works with the UFF–FSU
John J. Ronan
is a National Endowment for the Arts Fellow in Poetry, 1999–2000. His book Marrowbone Lane appeared in 2009 (Backwaters Press). He has published
Ivana Rogar
was born in 1978 in Zagreb, Croatia. She is an editor of a literary journal Quorum and a journal for cultural theory Libra Libera. She translated
Marko Pogacar
was born in 1984 in Split, Yugoslavia. He is an editor of Quorum, a literary magazine, and Zarez, a bi–weekly for cultural and social
Michael Palma
was born in the Bronx, New York. He has published one full–length collection of poems, A Fortune in Gold (Gradiva, 2000), and two poetry
Jefferson Navicky
has had work appear or is forthcoming in Octopus Magazine, Horse Less Review, Smokelong Quarterly, Birkensnake, and Hobart. His essay about
John McKernan
grew up in Nebraska and is now a retired comma herder after teaching at Marshall University for many years. He lives mostly in West Virginia and
Petar Matovic
was born in 1978, Serbia. He graduated in Serbian Literature at the University of Belgrade. He has published three poetry collections: Cameral
Nancy Jean Hill
is a grandmother from Stratham, New Hampshire. She is an active participant in the Seacoast poetry community and the author of a chapbook,
Roger Hickin
is a New Zealand visual artist and poet. His books, Waiting for the Transport and The Situation & Other Poems appeared in 2009. His Cold Hub
Myronn Hardy
is the author of three books of poems: Approaching the Center, Headless Saints, and Catastrophic Bliss. He divides his time between Morocco and
Gerald George
is a writer and editor in East Machias, Maine. He has published numerous poems in journals, magazines, newspapers, and anthologies, and his
Michael Estabrook
is finally free after 30 years of working for “The Man” and sometimes “The Woman.” No more useless meetings under fluorescent lights in stuffy,
Patrick Doyle
is twenty–three and lives in Durham, Maine with three cats who put up with him with varying success. He writes for the Southern Maine
Leigh Donaldson
lives in Portland, Maine. His work has appeared in The Montreal Review, the This I Believe website, International Poetry Review, American Legacy
Carl Dennis
is the author of eleven books of poetry and a collection of essays, Poetry as Persuasion. He is a recipient of both the Pulitzer Prize in 2002
David Cope
was born in Detroit, Michigan. He has authored six books: Quiet Lives, foreword by Allen Ginsberg, 1983; On The Bridge, 1986; Fragments from The
Sergio Badilla Castillo
practices a poetic “transrealism,” merging reality and myth. Born in Valparaíso in 1947, he studied journalism at the University of Chile and
Alessandro Carrera
was born in Lodi, Italy, in 1954. In the 1970s and ’80s he worked in Milan as a music critic, songwriter, and editor of scientific journals. In
Marcia F. Brown
is the author of the poetry collections, What on Earth, published by Moon Pie Press (2010); Home to Roost, Paintings and Poems of Belfast, Maine
Dan Alter
lives with his wife and daughter in Berkeley, California and makes his living as an electrician. His poems have appeared or will soon appear in
Artist Biographies
Reviewers Biographies
Lauren Hilger
was named the 2012 Nadya Aisenberg Fellow in Poetry from The MacDowell Colony and is a recipient of a Virginia Center for the Creative Arts
Andre Demers
is a banker by day, but a writer, actor, graduate student, and managing editor of The Café Review by night. He gives the muse her dues whenever he can.