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Index: Poetry & Fiction

‘Demarcation’ and three more poems.

Pui Ying Wong: ‘The air took on the color of acid paper
where poems that once shone
receded into oblivion.’

Pastoral.

Adam Kosan: ‘I am on my back in a cradle, I am cradled in memory’s time from shin-splitting physical forward time, in my valley of the world I rehearse catastrophe, enthralled by an overgrown hand and belittled hill that together have established a new natural form.’

Two Sequences

Anthony Howell: ‘Nikos and David were an exemplary couple. As I recall those days, they came to everything, and in the most natural way they acknowledged, supported and encouraged their literary and artistic friends.’

Versions.

David Plante: ‘A boy, you trusted the Gods to save you
From harm, and the Gods did,
Playing in sunlight and shadow in the orchard.’

Fire Poems.

David Plante: ‘So the globe will burn up, and the mind will burn up,
And leave space, in which the final fire
Is pure…’

Central Park.

Tim Suermondt: ‘Not many people out
and I feel as if I have a country
all to myself. But a country that’s mine,
every path I’m sure I’ve traveled
coming and going to almost call it home.’

The Marriage by Hart’s Crane of Faustus and Helen.

John Matthias: ‘But Hart’s father was
The man who invented Life Savers, the

Ubiquitous candy in everybody’s pocket.’

Young Wystan.

Alan Morrison: ‘Young Wystan—
Graced with the cloistered face of a scholarly
Twelfth-century friar, carved eyes bevelled
With the belfry-dark of meticulous craft…’

Selfies.

Rupert M Loydell: Gout —’It isn’t red wine or red meat, it is excruciating pain and hobbling down the stairs. Is feeling old before one should, is finding it hard to focus on something else.’

Parisian poems.

César Vallejo:’ Everybody has left the house, in reality, but everybody has remained in truth. And it is not the memory of them which remains, but they themselves.’

‘Interior’ and three more prose poems.

Linda Black: ‘Foreground, middle ground, background. Sail beyond the coastline one colour at a time. Mudstone, siltstone, shale. An undesirable brown.  A clime, a climb. Meadows populated with tubes of paint. (I have missed the planting season – what should I do?)’

My Mother’s Dress Shop.

Jeff Friedman: ‘His former lover no longer tried to reconcile their differences and move back in with him, so she didn’t notice that he was missing. Kroner’s sister, his remaining family member, lived far away and rarely spoke with him; as far as she knew, he was at home, doing what he always did.’

For Britney (or whoever).

Fran Lock:
‘i’m not going to tell you you are beautiful. no one is. get over it. the beauty is over.’

‘Gli Ucelli’ and two more poems.

Michael Anania: ‘they talked Italian politics/ laughed at Il Duce’s plan
to give cash bonuses to parents
who would name their babies after him’

Two Icelandic Stories.

Gyrðir Elíasson: ‘He was attempting to write, though without much success. He looked around him, at all the books on the shelves: no one else seemed to have any problem putting words in the right order.’