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Economy: issue summary

September 2, 2009 Leave a comment

As the global economy has struggled to find its way to recovery this year, we decided to take a much-used word and ask artists to play around with its meaning and implication so that the word economy could be re-envisioned. We challenged contributors to send us interpretive and imaginative explorations of this one word — and our challenge was met with a rowdy, triumphant and eclectic mix of poems, flash fiction, visual artwork, and video poetry.

As editors, we had the difficult and stimulating task of selecting work we believe depicted the word beyond its stereotypical associations. We sought out submissions that weren’t so much about the news of the word but about its heart and heat. It has been a real honor to read through, select and then present the brave and beautiful work in this issue of qarrtsiluni, which engages its audience to read and think in new and wonderful ways.

Anna Dickie and Pamela Hart, issue editors

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Economy: Contributors

September 1, 2009 Leave a comment

Click on contributors’ names to see all their work in the magazine.

Holly Anderson’s poetry and prose has been anthologized in Up is Up, But So Is Down: New York’s Downtown Literary Scene, 1974-1992 (NYU Press), The Unbearables (Autonomedia), and First Person Intense (Mudborn Press). Her limited edition books Lily Lou (Purgatory Pie Press) and Sheherezade (Pyramid Atlantic) are in library collections including MOMA, Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Victoria & Albert Museum. Anderson’s lyrics can be heard on Consonant (s/t), Love and Affliction (Fenwayrecordings) Mission of Burma’s VS, OnoffOn (Matador), Jonathan Kane’s Jet Ear Party (Table of the Elements/Radium), and various other albums.

Glenda Bailey-Mershon is a member of the Nation of the Four Winds: Romani, Cherokee, Catawba, African, Scottish and Welsh, and knows a thing or two about scattering, whether rosebuds or funds. Her work has recently appeared in Appalachian Heritage and Lunarosity, and in the chapbook Calling Down the Mountain (Jane’s Stories 2008.) She is at work on a novel about Southern women entitled Eve’s Garden.

Caroline Beasley-Baker (website) is a visual artist who frequently uses words/poems in her work. She has done projects for Creative Time (NYC) and Bebe Miller Dance Company (more!) and has received grants from NYFA, NEA and Artists Space in NYC. Her poems and paintings have recently been published in MungBeing Magazine and Mom Egg. Two hay(na)ku chain poems done in collaboration with poet/writer Holly Anderson and singer-songwriter Lisa B. Burns will be published by Meritage Press in 2009. Singer-songwriter Peg Simone is recording Beasley-Baker’s poem “Trifle and Refrain (I Sang the Stars)” for her upcoming album, scheduled for release spring 2009.

Kristin Berkey-Abbott has published in many journals, and Pudding House Publications published her chapbook, Whistling Past the Graveyard, in 2004. Currently, she serves as Assistant Chair of the General Education department at the Art Institute of Ft. Lauderdale. She keeps a poetry blog, a theology blog, and a website.

Kelsey Blair is an emerging writing who graduated from the University of Brisith Columbia, in Canada, and will be purusing her masters at the University of Toronto in Fall 2009. She’s been published in Inscribed, Toward the Light, Toro, The Moose and Pussy, and Cinephile. She writes, “if I could choose any method of payment other than money, I’d go with a pound of fresh, seasonal, strawberries per word.”

Irene Brown lives in Edinburgh and has been writing since around 2002. She occasionally does public readings and has had poems published in poetry magazines but also, less conventionally, in the 2003 programme for the Scottish Boat Race, the newsletter of Women In Property, the Burns Chronicle and the magazine of the Dovecote Tapestry Studios. She had a pamphlet (chapbook) of poetry entitled Glass Slippers published in 2009 by Calderwood Press.

James Brush (blog) is a writer and teacher living in Austin, TX where he teaches English in a juvenile correctional facility. He published his first novel, A Place Without a Postcard, in 2003. His poems have appeared at Bolts of Silk, Postal Poetry and A Handful of Stones, and his essays have been published in The Journal of Pediatric Oncology Nursing and Good Gosh Almighty!

Since 1977, Peter Cherches has written short prose pieces that fall between the cracks of genre. He has recently developed a passion for finishing other writers’ unfinished and abandoned works. He writes about food, travel and the writing life at his blog.

Alex Cigale’s poems have recently appeared in Colorado, Global City, and Green Mountains reviews, Hanging Loose, and Zoland Poetry, and are forthcoming in Drunken Boat, Gargoyle, Many Mountains Moving, North American Review, Tar River Poetry Review and 32 Poems. His translations from the Russian can be found in Crossing Centuries: the New Generation in Russian Poetry and in The Manhattan and St. Anne’s reviews. He was born in Chernovtsy, Ukraine and live in New York City.

Anne Connolly is from the North of Ireland but lives in Edinburgh now with her Scottish husband. They have three children and four grandchildren. Her pamphlet Downside Up was published last year by Calder Wood Press and many of the poems in it reflect the people, places and politics of Ireland.

Kay McKenzie Cooke (website) has had two books of poetry published by Otago University Press, Feeding the Dogs (2002) and Made For Weather (2007). Feeding the Dogs won the Jessie McKay prize for the Best First Book of Poetry awarded at the New Zealand Book Awards in 2003. Over the last twenty years, she has had many of her poems published in literary magazines and included in anthologies.

Michael Aanji Crowley has a half-dozen galleries of his work online at AMP.

Stacy Elaine Dacheux lives in Los Angeles. Her visual work can be found gracing the covers of small press publications, online at her website, or lining the walls of some wonderful future gallery. She is also a writer and sometimes journalist.

Rachel Dacus’s three poetry books are Another Circle of Delight, Femme au chapeau and Earth Lessons. Her work has been included in the anthologies Ravishing DisUnities: Real Ghazals in English and Italy: A Love Story. She resides in the San Francisco Bay Area, is a contributing editor for Umbrella, and more of her work can be seen at her website, where one can also order all her books.

Anna Dickie, one of the two co-editors of this issue, was profiled in the Call for Submissions.

Susan Donnelly is the author of three books of poetry, Eve Names the Animals, Transit, and the forthcoming Capture the Flag. Poems have appeared in Poetry, The New Yorker, Prairie Schooner, The Sun and elsewhere. She lives, writes and teaches poetry in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Karyn Eisler has appeared in BluePrintReview and Geist. She holds a PhD in sociology, teaches at Langara College, and worked as a radio and television broadcaster in a past life. She lives in Vancouver, Canada.

Alec Finlay (website) is an artist, poet and publisher. Born in Scotland in 1966, he now lives in the North-East of England, in Byker (Newcastle upon Tyne).

Rachel Fox grew up in the north of England but has lived in Angus, Scotland since 2002. She has a book of poems, More about the Song (Crowd-pleasers Press 2008), a website and a blog.

Alan Girling used to write short fiction. Now it’s mainly poetry. However he has had a play produced and would be willing to write a novel if the right idea came along. He writes in Richmond, British Columbia.

Wendy Harrison from A Wee Bit of Cooking blog is a teacher living in the Highlands of Scotland. She loves cooking food, growing food, finding food and eating food!

Pamela Hart, one of the two co-editors of this issue, was profiled in the Call for Submissions.

Russell Helms is a creative writing student at Eastern Kentucky University (EKU), finally smothered in fiction. He has published a variety of poems in small journals such as Adobe Abalone, Freedom Isn’t Free, Birmingham Poetry Review, Fell Swoop and others. Needing to eat, he has authored two outdoor books, a hiking guide to Birmingham, Alabama, and a slim volume titled GPS Outdoors. He wrote a column for a rural Alabama grocery store rag for four or so years, at one time was a reporter for a small town newspaper, and is the current fiction editor for Jelly Bucket, the journal of the Creative Writing Program at EKU.

Ed Higgins’ poems have appeared in Pindeldyboz, Mannequin Envy, Word Riot, The Hiss Quarterly, JMWW, Tattoo Highway and qarrtsiluni, among others. He and his wife live on a small farm in Yamhill, Oregon where they remain unrepentant holdovers from the 70s “back-to-the-land” movement. They raise a menagerie of animals including a manx barn cat named Velcro.

Joanne Hudson is a playwright who occasionally tries her hand at poetry. Her plays have been produced at many theatres in New York City and across the U.S. She holds an MFA in playwriting from Columbia University School of the Arts and received the Fulbright in 2008 to research and write her play unbidden in Iceland. She thanks qarrtsiluni for being the first to publish her poetry.

Kate Irving began writing early but went on hiatus for a career in music as a songwriter and studio singer. Her work has appeared in BigCityLit and Press 1 and has been broadcast on WBAI. A native New Yorker, she still lives there.

Maureen Jivani has an MPhil in writing from the University Of Glamorgan. She has been published widely in U.K. magazines and journals, and her first collection is forthcoming from Mulfran Press.

Angela Koh is a new, up-and-coming writer from California. She is a poet, journalist, linguist, and newbie blogger.

Dorothee Lang edits the BluePrintReview, an experimental online journal, and currently is into collaborate works. Her work has appeared in PindeldybozEclectica, The Mississippi Review, Juked, and numerous other places. For more about her, visit her at blueprint21.de.

Rob A. Mackenzie lives in Edinburgh, Scotland. His first collection of poetry is The Opposite of Cabbage, published by Salt. He blogs at Surroundings.

Robert Mellin (website) is an architect and professor of architecture at McGill University in Montreal and the author of Tilting: House Launching, Slide Hauling, Potato Trenching, and Other Tales from a Newfoundland Fishing Village, which was published by Princeton Architectural Press in New York and won the Winterset Literary Award in 2003.

M.V. Montgomery is a professor teaching in the Atlanta area whose work has appeared recently in Conversation Poetry Quarterly and Tangent Literary Arts Magazine.

Nathan Moore started showing his poems to people in the spring of 2008. He spent seven years working full time in a photograph factory while getting an undergraduate degree in English literature at Clarion University in Clarion, Penn. He once lived in an apartment that only had three walls. Nathan writes with Dana Guthrie Martin at Mutating the Signature and shares his own writing at Exhaust Fumes and French Fries.

Alistair Noon’s chapbook At the Emptying of Dustbins recently appeared from Oystercatcher Press. He lives in Berlin.

Claire Quigley is a Glasgow based photographer. She is the official photographer for the new Glasgow poetry society Vital Synz and has provided cover photos for several of the iTunes singles produced by the independent music publishers Threads of Sound and for the recent Scottish Poetry Library volume of poems about the family, Kin. In her own photography, she is interested in exploring the effects achievable using long-exposures, reflections and alternative light-sources. She also supplies pictures to stock agencies Alamy and Arcangel Images.

Steve Rago is a publishing executive at John Wiley & Sons and is a former editor at The New York Times. His work has been shown in Manhattan and the New York suburbs.

Monica Raymond just won the Castillo Prize in political theater for her play The Owl Girl. Her poetry has been published in the Colorado Review, the Iowa Review, and the Village Voice, and her publication streak at qarrtsiluni has lasted for eight issues now.

Jane Rice lives in San Francisco and pursues her interests in poetry, art and art history. Please visit Propolis Press for information about her letterpress chapbook entitled Portrait Sitters.

William Sea is a teacher. He was born in Taipei, Taiwan and has lived most of his life in Texas and Mississippi. His poetry and fiction has appeared in The Ash Canyon Review, Penwood Review, WLT2, and is forthcoming in Two Review. He loves the South, and though he has always wanted a dog, has never gotten one.

Tom Sheehan’s latest books are Brief Cases, Short Spans, November 2008 from Press 53; From the Quickening, January 2009 from Pocol Press; a proposal for a collection of cowboy stories, Where Cowboys Ride Forever, and Out of the Universe Endlessly Calling are in the hands of publishers, and other in-process works are novels Murder from the Forum, Death of a Lottery Foe, and An Accountable Death. His work is currently in or coming in Ocean Magazine, Perigee, Rope and Wire Magazine, Halfway Down the Stairs, and numerous other journals, as well as in the anthologies coming from Press 53: Home of the Brave, Stories in Uniform and Milspeak Anthology.

Don Skiles is the author of Miss America and Other Stories (Marion Boyars), and The James Dean Jacket Story (Cross+Roads Press). He lives and works in San Francisco.

Prize-winning photographer Anne Morrison Smyth (website) grew up in Ripton, Vermont and in Cambridge, Massachusetts. She moved to Belchertown in 1999 after living in Amherst for 30 years, where she raised her four children. Anne’s love for wildernesses of all kinds informs her work with an intimate, unflinching celebration of the diverse small realities that create a larger truth.

Jessamyn Smyth (website) is a writer in all genres. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and recognized in Best American Short Stories 2006; her plays have been produced by Naked Theatre Northampton, Arena Civic Theater, The Shea Theater’s Festival of New Work, The Country Players, and others; her essays have aired on Public Radio; and her poetry and short prose have appeared in various electronic and print journals. She co-edited qarrtsiluni’s Transformation issue with Allan Peterson.

Merry Speece has published two chapbooks of poetry and been a recipient of a state arts commission fellowship in prose. Her Sisters Grimke Book of Days (Oasis Books, England), which one reviewer called a prose poem, is a work of fragmented historical scholarship.

Rick Spuler’s writings have appeared in numerous literary magazines. Someday he’d like to write a book.

Gregory Stapp is a librarian by day and a writer by night, living and breathing in the middle-western wilds known as Oklahoma.

Karen Stromberg has recently turned to writing flash fiction and the 10-minute play. When not writing, she resuscitates books in the back room of a San Diego County Library.

Elizabeth Kate Switaj is the author of Magdalene & the Mermaids (Paper Kite Press), Shanghai (Gold Wake Press), and The Broken Sanctuary: Nature Poems (Ypolita Press). She edits Crossing Rivers Into Twilight and Gender Across Borders. For more information visit her website.

Pia Taavila is a Professor of English at Gallaudet University in Washington, DC. Her collection of poems, Moon on the Meadow, was published by the Gallaudet University Press in 2008. Recent work has appeared in storySouth, The Southern Review, PoetryMagazine.com and The Bear River Review.

Eileen R. Tabios has released 16 print, four electronic and 1 CD poetry collections, a novel, an art essay collection, a poetry essay/interview anthology, and a short story book. Recipient of the Philippines’ National Book Award for Poetry, she recently released a new poetry collection Nota Bene Eiswein (Ahadada, 2009) and a conceptual project disrupting the form of biography, The Blind Chatelaine’s Keys (BlazeVOX, 2008). She blogs as the “Chatelaine” and edits Galatea Resurrects, a popular poetry review journal.

Ray Templeton is a Scottish writer and musician, living in St. Albans, England. His poetry and short fiction has appeared widely on the web as well as in print, most recently in Eclectica and Loch Raven Review. He is a regular contributor to Musical Traditions and a member of the editorial board of Blues & Rhythm magazine.

Judith Terzi (website) lives in Southern California where she taught high school French and college writing for many years. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous journals, most recently in Eucalypt, Ginosko, HazMat Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Raving Dove, and Red Rock Review.

Meredith Trede writes, “When I’m paid with money for my work I’m a management consultant. Otherwise I’m a poet, parent, publisher.”

Nico Vassilakis is a multimedia artist, poet and writer. His visual poetry videos have been shown worldwide at festivals and exhibitions of innovative language arts, and his writings have appeared in numerous magazines, including: Ribot, Caliban, Aufgabe, Chain, Talisman, Central Park and Golden Handcuffs Review. His latest books are TEXT LOSES TIME, staReduction, a vispo essay and recently, a collection of visual poetry, Protracted Type.

Julene Tripp Weaver (website) works in HIV Services, and has a chapbook, Case Walking: An AIDS Case Manager Wails Her Blues, based on her work. A poem from this chapbook was featured on The Writer’s Almanac. Her poetry has been published in many journals and anthologies, including Main Street Rag, The Healing Muse, Knock, Arabesques Review, Nerve Cowboy, Arnazella, Crab Creek Review, Pilgrimage and Letters to the World: Poems from the Wom-Po LISTSERV.

Holly Wehmeyer grew up on a farm in northern Illinois and now writes poetry in Chicago. She has worked for both lawyers and tax accountants. Someday she hopes to recover from this. She has been published in qarrtsiluni’s “Journaling the Apocalypse” issue  and in righthandpointing Issue #22, “Why Is It Starting Now?”

An Edinburgh-born poet and publisher with a scientific background, Colin Will (website, blog) now lives in Dunbar. He has always played an active part in developing Scotland’s poetry organisations. His fifth collection, The Floor Show At the Mad Yak Café, is due from Red Squirrel Scotland in 2010. His own publishing house, Calder Wood Press, specialises in poetry chapbooks.

Steve Wing (PBase gallery) is a visual artist and writer whose work reflects his appreciation for the extraordinary in ordinary days and places. He lives in Florida, where he takes dawn photos on his way to work in an academic institution. His work recently has also appeared in Flutter, Perigee, Pequin, BluePrintReview and Eclectica.

Christopher Woods is the author of a prose collection, Under a Riverbed Sky, and a collection of stage monologues for actors, Heart Speak. He lives in Houston and in Chappell Hill, Texas. His photography can be seen in his online gallery, Moonbird Hill Arts, which he shares with his wife.

Rachel Woolf says, “Food and words are essential provisions. Middle Eastern cuisine has songs to sing. I prefer words and music or words and images to just words — just as food and company is so much more than just food. I am an advocate for the lullaby genre, which was the way I started writing and is still my first love. My two main stamping grounds are London and the shores of the Firth of Forth.”

Gerard Wozek’s first collection of poetry, Dervish (Gival Press, 2001) won the Gival Press Poetry Prize. He teaches literature and creative writing at Robert Morris University Illinois in Chicago. His most recent book, Postcards from Heartthrob Town (Southern Tier Editions, 2007), is a collection of short travel stories.

cupboard’s bare

August 31, 2009 4 comments

cupboard's bare, by Michael Aanji Crowley
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by Michael Aanji Crowley

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Economies

August 29, 2009 2 comments

This must happen
after death: the gold

out of the teeth,
liver broiled instantly,

but the loins smoked and saved
for the long journey.

This must happen:
the heart, wrought solid,

kept for a grinding stone,
crescents of nails

filed clean for amulets.
What falls down

must fall down, but we take
what we need.

We try to use
all that’s left.

Sinew for harp strings,
scrimshaw from the long bones,

retina caged
and set singing.

by Monica Raymond

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Recession: A User’s Guide

August 28, 2009 16 comments

Your outlook should become more depressed over
the budget. If banks implode, search for some anodyne
that could ease forgetfulness. As for your television,
leave it in your front yard until a neighbor comes to argue
its price. Avoid paying for small items — especially
those that are not behind glass. In the meantime,
anonymous benefactors may offer you loans via the Internet.
Make sure your car is easy to hide and your name is fake.

*

Your anguish should become more apparent over the telephone.
If collections calls, ask for flexible managers who can learn
to fuck themselves. As for your microwave, store it in your garage
until a neighbor comes to cook a burrito. Avoid
making payments — especially those that are not life threatening.
In the meantime, strangers may mysteriously eat your money
via the Internet. Make sure your hair is combed and your identity
is somewhat intact.

*

Your children should become savvier about the market.
If jobs open in coal mining or textiles, it could lead to steady
income. As for your credit rating, employed dependants
guarantee a high score. Avoid selling your children
outright — especially those that are not unskilled.
In the meantime, reproduction may bring you a decent
profit via the birth canal. Make sure your calendar is planned
and your wallet is open.

*

Your expectations should become more yielding over the years.
If standards relent, look for sleeping arrangements
that could lead to someone’s basement. As for your hope,
burn it for warmth until the neighbor comes by with kerosene.
Avoid math problems — especially those that are not coin-related.
In the meantime, your desire for religious salvation through costumed oath
and strange prophecy may be satisfied via the Internet. Make sure your robe
is clean and your doubt suspended.

by Nathan Moore

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Recessional

August 27, 2009 2 comments

Everyone’s on promotions now —
bogof, twofers, reduced for quick sale.

It’s what we war babies always did —
scoured for bargains, secreted pleasures.

An inheritance of thrift became habit,
even in later soppy days of plenty.

I splurge on things never then imagined —
books, music, a house to hold all,

education for the children, ambitions
grafted on totipotent lives, a plastic future.

by Colin Will

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Pearl, Lantern

August 26, 2009 Leave a comment

lovelessness
broken necklace
the Asian markets
opening lower
the fall
the fall of
the American dol-
lar
a light in China
Americans with pearl vision
as American as mini pearls
seed pearl
seed money and seed purse
plant case for the plant seed
it looks like a paper lantern

by Merry Speece

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Balance

August 25, 2009 2 comments

Are you able to catch that blackbird’s song?

You know fine well my higher hearing’s gone —
controlled explosions and pneumatic drills.

So I try to tune him first to soaring trills
then see-saw notes of warning as the cat
invisibles his predatory self in under-
growth; how the molasses of his song
meanders nightfall when the threat moves on.

Hey look! A golden eagle way up there!

No chance hawk-eye! Marking jotters till dawn.
You know I’m blinder than a cricket ball.

And with his own precision he gives me sun
on the edge of a wind-span throttled back sweet
to find ungainly land in the lee of morning
while I slit my eyes to hear the young call.

by Anne Connolly

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401(k)

August 24, 2009 Leave a comment

Icarus-like nearing the sun
contrail streak
falling

        fa
           ll
            in
              g
waxed wings
me
    lt
      in
        g
wildly
in the grieving sky.

by Ed Higgins

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A 92-Degree Day

August 22, 2009 Leave a comment

“Look,” Mullins said — we were by that time crossing the very busy and wide intersection at Van Ness and Market Streets, a trolley clunking and wheezing  by us, cars speeding in all directions, like pinballs gone berserk — “I don’t know what it means. You understand me? I’m a writer, and if I don’t write, I don’t feel good. You know, I read somewhere Dylan said if he didn’t work he didn’t feel good.”

“Oh?” I said, in an uninflected tone befitting the sheer banality.

He went on. “I suspect it’s that way with a lot of writers. I mean, you can’t do much with it, can you? Maybe a job teaching in a two-bit college. A sinecure.”

He said the word contemptuously. We had reached the other side of the street in one piece, and I found I was dusting myself off, literally.  It was a brutally hot day for San Francisco. The illuminated, flashing thermometer on the side of the bank building read “92.” I mopped my brow, my dripping wet, uncharacteristically so for San Francisco, brow.

“God! There are too many damn writers in this town,” he said. “I bet you every fifth person we’ve passed today is some kind of writer. Or wants to be.” He turned to me. “Why is that?”

I had no answer. Instead I thought about my first sinecure.

It was 1967 and I was hired on the telephone, wham, bam, interview and job offer in under fifteen minutes, that’s how it was back then. My call came early in the morning, around 8:15 San Francisco time, but it was 10:15 out there in the Midwest. I had just completed my masters at San Francisco State, which at the time had one of the most respected English faculties in the country. And it was in San Francisco, damn it, the adopted home I had fallen in love with.

Well, I found myself in September of 1967 living in a new apartment on the middle floor of a three-story concrete apartment building in a godforsaken university town in the northern Midwest, a town whose main distinction was that barbed wire had been invented there. The mansion of the inventor had become a museum, dually honoring the man’s life and his greatest achievement.

It didn’t last very long, that first sinecure in the town with the barbed-wire museum. One year. Nine months, actually, and those nine months were the longest year of my life, and the winter the coldest.

After that, a short stint at a small college in Pennsylvania, in a not unpleasant town, and this one with a museum dedicated to Little League baseball. But I wasn’t cut out for two-bit sinecures, I guess, and I returned to San Francisco where I worked a succession of jobs over the years, some good, some bad, some awful. Eventually, though it took quite a number of years, I found my way back into teaching, and without leaving the Bay Area. In all that time I had never quit writing.

“I don’t know,” I told Mullins, finally, without inflection, as I mopped my brow again, a Sisyphean task, it seemed, especially in San Francisco.

by Don Skiles and Peter Cherches

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My Lady Copia

August 21, 2009 Leave a comment

 

Perhaps because I can get so tongue-tied, I am not naturally economical in writing.
Cut half of what you write, advises my father, who is something of a raconteur.
Drop your last paragraph to avoid appearing argumentative, counsels my lawyer,
himself a gladiator. True, E.B. White held a good school. The English language is
naturally redundant: “to be” constructions, excessive nominalizations, clichés—all
deservedly banished from the Republic of Letters. Adjectives and figures of speech: 
never use when an action word will do. And by god, throw away your thesaurus.

It is always surprising, though, when the Occam’s Razor falls on poetry: We cannot
consider poems of more than twenty lines.  We ask that you kindly sum things up and

get to the point. Of course the poem itself may have been the point: the vent, the spill,
the tendril, the brave search party sent out after other words. (Pardon my pleonasm.)
The safest course is to unloose the diction only when it’s certain to seem appropriate.
A eulogy? You can get away with that sort of thing. Trash-talking with friends?
Of course you must play that game. An affectionate letter? Even those I have been
encouraged to tone down. Don’t pontificate, don’t come on too strong, don’t jinx things
with your exuberance. So I end here. It is, as they say, a wrap.  Ad FinemVale.

by M.V. Montgomery

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blown by the wind

August 20, 2009 Leave a comment

blown by the wind, by Michael Aanji Crowley
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by Michael Aanji Crowley

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New Poem Breathing

August 19, 2009 3 comments

Curry a new poem
with a wire brush

toss vanity aside
when you dare to

hit it two or more swipes
with the same scrub brush

your mother kept the kitchen
clean with, drag with a fine tooth comb

the kind she sought out nits
with when school was overrun

the way ant hordes might come
yet, fire ants from Brazil’s interior

the Amazon bone-dry
old wells besieged

silence the final
architect

by Tom Sheehan

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An Economy of Language

August 18, 2009 5 comments

They wouldn’t even pay him off in pennies,
said his poems wandered far too long:

too many synthesaurus additives,
too many old growth words chopped down.

Strapped him to an ankle monitor
that somehow read his thoughts,

buzzed all night when he tried to sleep
and garnished away his dreams.

Hollow-eyed and somber silent, now,
he hoards his words in a coffee can

buried out back beneath the pine, planted
in days when all the things had many names.

Sometimes he spreads his words out,
arranging them in patterns on the grass,

building shapes of presidents and snakes
before burying them in the earth again,

hidden from the hungry mouths of singers,
linguists and bright-eyed myna birds.

by James Brush

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An Economical Fairytale

August 17, 2009 Leave a comment

Princess Eileen once lived.[1] She sat in a room of neutral hues.[2] Unlike her counterparts, who twiddled their thumbs in giant towers, grew their hair out, or experienced great hardships, Princess Eileen went to school. She buried her nose in books and ambition.[3] She studied free trade, and the stock market. She also studied art, deciding all concepts were the same level of abstraction. It was all a bit of a slog, the testing, the memorization, but Princess Eileen didn’t have a choice. In truth, she too was a lady in waiting. A Prince[4] was supposed to be part of her story.

Prince dreamt of saving, but spent most of his time looking at clouds.[5]

“I hate my job,” said Prince one day.

Princess Eileen said, “Well, why not find a new one?”[6]

The prince gasped, “Have you seen the economy lately?”

The princess hadn’t.[7] “What’s it like? The Economy?”

“Like a dragon, only it can be prettier.”

“Do you like pretty things?”

“Only if they stay that way.”[8]

He was supposed to save her. In fact, he was supposed to have saved her three years prior, but, at the time, he’d been too busy with his profits. Then, he’d been rather swept up in his new-found love of squash. Six months ago, it was simply impossible to help ease Princess Eileen’s need for new colour coordination because he was trying to focus more on fixing his bad habits.[9]

She tilted her head to the side, “Are you ever going to save me?”

“Of course!” said Prince, standing up full force, getting a head rush, and quickly sitting back down.

Princess Eileen titled her head further to the side, getting up slowly and taking a walk of the castle.[10]

In the forest, Princess Eileen ran into a wise person.[11]

This person spoke eloquently on many subjects. “I, too, used to be royal.”[12]

“How did you end up here?”[13]

In listening, the princess learned a lesson.[14]

She returned to the castle and went rummaging through the garage.

Days turned to weeks, which turned to months. Princess Eileen went back into the castle, a dash of red along her forearm. While skipping through the hallway, she ran into Prince.

“I am going to save you,” he said bravely.

Princess Eileen tilted her head at him again.

“Eventually,” he mumbled, “have you been out there lately? Things are crashing. Numbers falling from the sky. Executives too.”

“I have been out there. The sky wasn’t falling,” she responded simply, “Oh, and I no longer need saving.”

“What?”

“If it’s not the economy, it’ll be an evil witch.”

“Witches are difficult to deal with. They possess all sorts of powers. Dark powers. Is that blood on your arm?”

“No, it’s paint. I’ve been redecorating. My tower was quite drab. I’ve decided to become a designer.”

“You’re supposed to be the decoration”.

“No, I’m supposed to be saved, but you aren’t coming.”

“Well, I mean the economy.”

“Yes, the economy, the witches, the dragons. Regardless… I don’t need saving. I do however need more paint.”

So ends the story.[15]

by Kelsey Blair

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NOTES

1. For the sake of space, time and context are irrelevant. Safe to say she lived, or is living; verb tense is of no matter. [BACK]

2. Setting. It should be inferred her life was dull, boring, and in need of help.  No one who paints a room “cream” is filled with passion. [BACK]

3. Character traits which demonstrate Princess Eileen’s desperate state: education is, as we all know, exceptionally dangerous for the rich. It is also dangerous for the poor, but far less accessible. [BACK]

4. Despite his generic title, the Prince is very important; hence, capitalization. Also, Prince and Princess Eileen are not related. It’s very difficult to root for incest. [BACK]

5. Conflict: Prince vs. Princess. Unlike Princess vs. Evil Stepmother, all creatures, including excessively small persons, horses with horns, and inanimate objects with the power of speech will be useless to advancing the plot. There is no room for comic relief here. Even very witty relief. [BACK]

6. She raised her eyes from the large book she was reading and tried to flip her hair. It was an action she didn’t practice often. Needless to say, it went badly, and Prince furrowed his brow in a confused way. As has been noted, Prince wasn’t very bright. [BACK]

7. Princesses are consistently badly acquainted with their enemies. Some sort of genetic flaw? [BACK]

8. This answer is unfitting. Clearly, the Prince had things to learn. There isn’t time for that here, but the record notes: maturation needed. [BACK]

9. A pattern has formed. Lengthy, but necessary, like a long journey. [BACK]

10. Clearly, no room for descriptors. However, safe to say, the grounds were large and lush. The forest, located near the back gate was rarely attended to. Past the gate, which was made of a kind of steel so strong it was luminous, were trees. “Trees” is a bad descriptor, suggesting something mundane, found on street corners and window sills. These plants manage to create space while also seeming to hug anyone who enters them.  It is a place children dream of getting lost in, full of bright coloured insects and crickets that seem to sing instead of chirp. Not that any of this is relevant. [BACK]

11. For the sake of equality, the person will not be gendered. For the sake of discrimination, the person will not be a peasant or old. Class and age are not factors here. [BACK]

12. Princess Eileen had met one other being who claimed to be royal. She’d never since like the taste of frog legs. [BACK]

13. The story, was, of course, long, winding, and only moderately exciting to listeners. [BACK]

14. This is ever so important. You are supposed to learn this lesson too. Did you? [BACK]

15. Normally, there would be a review of the moral, but space is not permitting. For reassurance sake, Princess Eileen did live, even relatively happily. She made a business for herself, painting castles, saving others from unsatisfactory colours. She waited for no one. [BACK]

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