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Index: Poetry & Fiction

Poems and prose poems.

Geo Milev: ‘Today …

speak: do you see through the lie
of these destructive dreams?’

The Gearagh.

Katherine Meehan: ‘Whatever agonies speak
deep in the marrow, do not
on the surface of this evening.’

Out-takes.

Paul A. Green: ‘The lights of the town seem to be shrinking, swelling, pulsing. ‘A circlet of God’s silver tapestry spread across Nature’s Night.’ Even bad poetry is better than no poetry at all.’

Awkwardness that is visible.

Rupert M Loydell: ‘Team up with the supernatural in order to escape people you once trusted.’

Florescence.

Brian Swann: ‘I don’t know where, it almost feels sinful having no purpose,
Naturalized nowhere and everywhere as I ease through…’

Seamarks.

Kelvin Corcoran: ‘I remember from your hospital bed the sky
and the high window opened a little,
far below the tide rolls back and forth
but this is just one-way, though not a word lost.’

A Life in Poetry: Peter Robinson.

Peter Robinson:’I’m a northerner, but not a ‘proud’ or ‘professional’ one. Liverpool, where my mother still lives, as do two of my dearest friends, is the only place I can call my hometown.’

‘Summer’s Surface’ and two more poems.

Marc Vincenz: ‘we slip through
the noose of home
and prance out’

Seven poems

Hoyt Rogers: ‘Still, it is only a mask over mild, imperturbable eyes: you enfold our farthest horizon. Kindly, you cock your head to one side, refulgent as the harvest moon. Your touch is in the residue of things, “our lives and our loves”; the chance design, flitting for a second on the screen; the accidents, the plan; the worn-out clothes; the knuckles, the elbows, the spine.’

Sundry Updates.

Richard Foreman: ‘It’s wispy.  I’m a concept.  So many people – 40%ers – have thought of me that I began to feel like I could just begin to exist.’

Words in the Dark 3.

W.D. Jackson: Flattering, complaining, wrangling, he
Waged life like a one-man guerrilla war
Against a Romantic century:
Destroyed but undefeated, he bore
A lot of painful poetry –’

Sailing Ashland Avenue.

Robert Archambeau: ‘Thinking of your old school in Omaha.
Outside your office window red clouds sailed,
Menacing the Ashland sky like prairie dust in Texas.’

All This While.

Michael Anania: ‘I return, as always,
to light and shadow, strains
of familiar music, lyrics
filled with love and absence…’

13 Ways of Looking at Light in Chicago.

Garin Cycholl: ‘pistol flashes into neon;
the cop show calls for extras’

For Jens.

Kriatian Leth: ‘And you won’t read this poem
I don’t say that because I know something
but because you never read poetry’