Monday 6 August 2012

Michael H. Brownstein

The Water Lillie Contemplating Suicide 
The flower rickshawed through her,
a water blossom yellow and strong
like a plank of wood, smooth and narrow,
a one by two, only true as if true
could ever be exact or honest
or even a deity worth dying for.
The stem of her body fluid and full,
her root work deep and philosophical
as if the voice of pain could ever be a flower,
the thick trunk of a tree, a nearby stream
bubbling over river rock, the carcasses
of the dead fish who swim there.
Michael H. Brownstein has been widely published throughout the small and literary presses. His work has appeared in The Café Review, American Letters and Commentary, Skidrow Penthouse, Xavier Review, Hotel Amerika, Free Lunch, Meridian Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, The Pacific Review, and others. In addition, he has nine poetry chapbooks including The Shooting Gallery (Samidat Press, 1987), Poems from the Body Bag (Ommation Press, 1988), A Period of Trees (Snark Press, 2004), What Stone Is (Fractal Edge Press, 2005), and I Was a Teacher Once (Ten Page Press, 2011). He is the editor of First Poems from Viet Nam (2011).

Thursday 2 August 2012

Christy Hall

Later, You Returned to the Sea

To the coast, what other setting but by the shore.
We crept along the promenade holding hands,
staying close in the cold.
You were reluctant to step onto the sand
in canvass shoes, so I piggy-backed you
towards the surf, and the bank of wet stones.
A sprig of seaweed, typical litter, a twig.
I set you down there, safe
and threw a rock or two seawards; you laughed.
Hooking yourself to me and using my feet
as stilts to keep out the damp.
I leant in. You turned back.
The wind now whipping hard at our necks
and I can taste the salt of the chips we had.

Christy Hall is the tenant and manager of a pub in Beverley, East Yorkshire. He is a graduate of the Creative Writing Master’s course at Hull University. He has had poems published throughout the U.K as well as in America. He hopes one day to publish his own collection.

Wednesday 1 August 2012

Ivo Drury

Atavist's Statement #23

You asked for a paragraph or two about my paintings,
but what’s the point?
You like them or not.
You understand them or not.
Your opinion is equal to, greater than, less than mine.
Nobody really cares – they come for the cheese and the chardonnay,
but chiefly the chardonnay

Ivo Drury workshops words in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Recent work has appeared in Liliput Review, Conium Review, Curio Poetry and Elimae.