Poetry Special – (September 2014 / 14.18)

Poetry Special – (September 2014 / 14.18)

Graphing by Claire Ibarra

Graphing by Claire Ibarra

Artist, Claire Ibarra’s fiction and creative nonfiction have appeared in numerous literary journals, including The MacGuffin, Natural Bridge, Boston Literary Magazine, Blink-Ink, Amoskeag, Foliate Oak, The Broken Plate, and BluePrint Review. She is also a contributor to the anthology An Honest Lie, Vol.2: Delusions of Insignificance by Open Heart Publishing and the upcoming anthology Dreams of Duality by Red Skies Press.
 

***

Laurie Kolp

Forbidden Fruit

I cradle time in arms of steel
your smile, your eyes, your hand in mine

crossing bridges, autumn leaves
a pile of clues I refused to see

the paws you dug beneath my shirt as shears,
breasted heaviness, your tongue.

I thought fruit signified love,
but you threw apples at my feet.

Laurie Kolp lives in Southeast Texas with her husband, three kids and two dogs. Her first full-length poetry collection, Upon the Blue Couch, was published in March 2014 through Winter Goose Publishing. She blogs at lkharris-kolp.blogspot.com/ and lkkolp.wordpress.com/.

~

John Grey

No Escape

I need a respite from poetry.
I cut open my chest
to reveal my innards.
How many times can I do that
before I bleed to death.

I should sit in my veranda chair
for an hour or two,
observe the sparrows, finches at the feeder,
the towering maple,
even the sprouting weeds along the back fence.

Take it all in
but don’t let it out…
that must be my credo.
Let nature remain inexplicable.
Feel the connection
but don’t break it with words on paper.

But it never works out that way.
Birds fly because I can’t.
Trees are here forever
and I’m not.
Weeds sprout
and I too am defiantly out of place
in a close cut even world,

“What a beautiful day,” my wife says.
That’s the first line in how ugly it can get.

John Grey is an Australian-born poet. His work has recently been published in International Poetry Review, Sanskrit, and the science fiction anthology, The Kennedy Curse, with work upcoming in Freshwater, Paterson Review, and Nerve Cowboy.

~

Lorraine Caputo

TexaSong

Over silhouetted brush, a slivered
crescent moon, gilded-cinnamon
sinks into the coming night, deep blue
deep magenta muting

          & the Earth sings
agave, live oak, spanish moss, mistletoe
          The Earth sings
hills crescendoing to the west
          The Earth sings
late-autumn-cooled nights & warm
sunny days, breeze staccato-ing
leaves across patio stones
          The Earth sings
spicy aroma of burning piñón
          The Earth sings
water bubbling in a garden
pond where koi swim & gulf
coast toads mate
          The Earth sings

& my Spirit raises
its song of thanksgiving
to this land,
for its inspiration
its lessons & amistades,
echoing amidst a rainbow of skins
a melody of languages,
echoing among white-washed homes
& morning song roosters

Lorraine Caputo is a documentary poet, translator, and travel writer. her poetry and narratives have been published in over 100 journals in Canada, the US, Latin America, Europe and Asia, such as Drumvoices Revue, Canadian Dimension, In Other Words: Mérida (Mexico), A New Ulster (Northern Ireland), and Open Road Review (India). Her works have also appeared in eight chapbooks of poetry, five audio recordings and ten anthologies. In March 2011, the Parliamentary Poet Laureate of Canada chose one of her works as poem of the month. For the past decade, Caputo has been traveling through Latin America, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth.

~

George Korolog

The History of Dead Leaves

Leaves speak to me. They flutter with their stories
of dangling desperation and giddy chippering
through coarse October storms. Sometimes, they
speak to me of their dark foreboding, the dread of
the future, of carefully raked stacks, of burn piles,
of the final separation, spinning down to the ground
in a not quite flat way, because flatness does not
inhabit the world where veins are inscribed with thick
narratives, stretching out in every direction laden with
memories of sprout and bloom, the affection in the
warm slip of the early spring breeze and the profound
green, above all, the profound green that saturates the
world with imagination. They know. Their world is
full of bowing from beginning to end, looping and twisting
into and out of the curve of time, twirling, each into its
own destiny if one dares to watch, if one can dare to watch,
to the very end, back up into the exposed branches, naked
with the illusion of unfilled hope, waiting to be born again.

George Korolog is a Bay Area poet whose flash fiction and non-fiction have been widely published in over forty print and online journals such as Word Riot, Forge, Naugatuck River Review, Poets and Artists, The Journal of Modern Poetry, Red River Review, Connotation Press, Grey Sparrow Journal, and many others. He has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has also received a Best of the Net nomination. His book of Poetry Gods Vengeful Concubines has been short listed for the Able Muse Poetry Prize. Korolog is the author of Collapsing Outside the Box (Aldrich Press, 2012) and Raw String(Finishing Line Press, 2013).

~

Kate Lutzner

Sentimenatal Journey

I match you to a tee, arms and legs,
tiny little vocal chords at the back of our
throats. I loved you once, in a trailer
in New Mexico, a donkey peering in
as if it lived there. The true inhabitants,
a man and his wife, how complicated
it all is now. I am not at liberty to discuss
the details of their union,
only to say I saw them once
in a hotel room south of Moriarty,
a bed-full of pies from the only
restaurant open at night.
After someone dies, there are
rituals. It was like that
in that room, only without
the death. I knocked shyly
against the glass table, ran into
it as gently as I could.
This reminded me of childhood,
trying to go unnoticed. I don’t believe
in ghosts, but when I think of that
couple, I wonder whether they were
fully alive. She was ethereal,
dressed in white, and the dog that ran
between them, between the chair where she
sat and the corner where he stood,
all of it like the sort of dream you have
after cheap sex. I will miss
their certainty, how they loved
long into the night, the pies
having been cleared away,
the bed neither a rival nor a foe
for what they did there.

Kate Lutzner’s poetry has appeared in such journals as Antioch Review and Rattle. She has been featured in Verse Daily.

***

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About bluefifthreview

Blue Fifth Review, edited by Sam Rasnake, Michelle Elvy, and Bill Yarrow, is an online journal of poetry, flash, and art.
This entry was posted in Art, Poetry Special. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Poetry Special – (September 2014 / 14.18)

  1. Pingback: Three by Five Presents Laurie Kolp Part I | Vicki Hudson

  2. Pingback: Three by Five Presents Laurie Kolp Part II | Vicki Hudson

  3. Pingback: Three by Five Presents Laurie Kolp Part III | Vicki Hudson

  4. Pingback: Three by Five Presents Laurie Kolp Part IV Bonus | Vicki Hudson

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