| May 2004 | Café Society's Poetry News Update |
| May 2004 | Café Society's Poetry News Update |
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Tyler Wiseman
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| From the tender age of three, I've been fascinated with the literary aspects of our world. Although beginning as most do on Firstbooks, I had moved onto Greek mythology by the age of 5, consuming voraciously the likes of Samuel Butler's translation of the Odyssey, and Bernard Evslin's comprehensive approach to the Greek and Roman mythologies. At 8, my father gave me my first poetry book, Richard Brautigan's masterful work 'Loading Mercury With a Pitchfork.' This was the Catalyst to my future aspirations, I remember the lightning flare, and the epiphany that I would be a poet! Later I was to meet his contemporaries, first in Woodstock, NY, which had a never ending supply of old Beat poets rolling through the Colony Cafe, and later at the City Lights 50th Anniversary in North Beach. Unfortunately he had been dead nearly a decade before I had to opportunity to even travel in the Kerouac-esque mode, but it was wonderful to hear the reminiscences of those old poets of him and the other greats from times spent. Some of the achievements I've held of particular note are being self published in all 50 states and a handful of countries through the sale of hand crafted poetry by the age of 21, hard copy litmag publication in the US 50 by 22, national television broadcast of a poem at 23, subsisting for over 6 years (in 6 to 8 month intervals) on my poetry alone through such means, surviving the 9-11 aftermath after hitchhiking from Woodstock to volunteer, being appointed co-moderator of both the Woodstock Colony Poet's group and the New Pleiades, and being published in both our respective magazines (Autumn Leaves, Poetry in Emotion; which is to feature my poetry exclusively for the summer issue, and with Kedco) and some prestigious extraneous magazines such as Poetic Voices, Above Ground Testing, The Sidewalk's End, and Babel.
I've also had some of my work sampled by popular artists on occasion, and have had a long term, although somewhat belated, artistic relationship with Jewel. She was an invaluable impetus in my travels some years back, and continues to be a near inexpressible inspiration for the future. Speaking of the future, I have plans to have a cross country walk in upcoming years from Tyler, North Dakota to Tyler, Texas, to finish hitchhiking the 50, of which four remain, and am mad to spend my energies on Europe. Currently I am disposed to handling the poetry groups of my responsibility and writing to fine magazines such as Poetry Life and Times!
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Other than that, historical poets are all measurably satisfying, having read the Iliad and Odyssey in 2nd grade must've been intrinsical in the pursuits of my "poetry life and times." Dylan Thomas, Bukowski, the beat poets in earnest have been historically inspiring peers whom I greatly admire.
North Beach had a reminiscent upsurgence from the 40th anniversary celebration of City Lights, so I suppose beyond the norm there was more of a bohemian feel in such context. The finest poets of the time, yet alive, were at the gathering, and it gave a wondrous sense of poetic presence. Soaking in such events is certainly the best way to get a feel for the old standards.
I am well aware that successful authors, and especially poets, must break down emotional barriers in order to project the fullest discretion with an audiences dialogue. This is the cornerstone of celebrity, and the enactment of literary endeavors in it's noblest purpose. Ultimately I expect in a few years to be able to bear my life with a greater entirety, but for now, respect the wishes of thine own father.
It is my sincere conviction that the fashion of God is that precise essence which transposes the abstract and concrete. Formed of both the superstitious need to elaborate such things as death and birth, so well as the applied standards of reason and deliberation in fixed sciences. This poem was ultimately meant for the masses which are, sum and composition, the molecular and metaphysical constitution of God.
I believe every poem, no matter how novice, is a pure expression of the writer and to throw a poem away is essentially to cut away a part of the soul.
The great tragedy, to my thought, of the online poetry community is a massive watering down of the craft. Where in purist days one would require sincere quality crafting in order to get a hard copy print, now all one needs to do is offer a work to vanity presses and have immediate gratification. Writing is truly likening to le petite morte, in some way, for the greatest poems allow a varied, though regimented, rhythm until the critical moment of the epiphany.
Poetry L & T: I gather from your bio that it was Richard Brautigan's book 'Loading Mercury With a Pitchfork', which first inspired you to write poetry, at the age of 8. Which sections of the book did you find the most enjoyable or inspiring?
Tyler:
Well, I do recall one prominent note in which Richard muddled the writing and put in parenthesis '(incomprehensible, too drunk)' Something about that sort of honesty struck me, how he could simply use the poem for it's existing merits and follow the Beat 'First Thought, Best Thought' philosophy. I also recall a poem in which he extoled the virtues of woman, beginning with, 'oh, if I could be anything in this world, it would be woman.' That kind of hetero-oriented appeciation for the womans virtues truly inspired my reverence.
Poetry L & T: Who are your favourite poets?
Tyler:
I am especially fond of such contemporary poets as our very own Richard Vallance, yourself, Robin Ouzman and other New Pleiades members, all of whom have precise form and prominent subject matter, and at the least a notable thirst to improve the craft beyond mundane standards. Extraneous contemporaries include Jane Mead, who is brutally honest in paternal matters, Both Phillip Levines, one of whom sets standards of expression both poignant and humorous, and the other who makes such a plethora of quip poems as to make him a true categorical professional. We had many great nights where he hosted at the Colony cafe in Woodstock.
Poetry L & T:
What is it about places like Woodstock, N.Y., that
inspires poets and songwriters these days? Is much of
the bohemian charm still evident?
Tyler:
Woodstock, NY and North Beach, 'Frisco are two of the finest places I've been to in regard to literary support, however, as all things come to pass into, the evolution of such antiquated sentiments as the true bohemian leave them as legacy. You gather a taste of it in the little corners, but as the world turns, so do artistic aesthetics. Previous to 9-11, Woodstock was buoyant, they said it was to be the new 'summer of love' just two months before the attack. Suprisingly, the notarized happenings a few year previous had put into perspective certain principles which had been lost to a degree because of "The Biggest Little Town's" capitalistic turning. The charm was flowing down from Magic Meadows in those fine Indian summer months, for certain.
Poetry L & T:
Are there any subjects that you find hard,
emotionally, to write about?
Tyler:
Once again, I admire Jane Mead for her Paternal verse, which I find near impossible at the current juncture. My father slowly dies (So says Plath!), he has suffered from cancer within the last year, the imprisonment of my brother, and has had a lifelong weight problem. However, he has implicitly made wishes that I not write of him, so I must wait on it until his demise, or for my projected book "Tyler" which will detail life happenings along a cross country walk for Tyler, North Dakota, to Tyler, Texas.
Poetry L & T:
I was interested to read your poem "Villainized"... I
agree with the sentiments, having enjoyed some great
times in rock clubs down in Brighton, England - the
hippie or biker look is of course just a style really,
associated with music. Do you generally see poets as
having an important role to play in breaking down
society's prejudices?
Tyler:
It is incontrovertible that the poet is a key player in altering the standards and prejudices of every society. In the fundamental essence that the finest language is considered poetry and ipso facto alters our conventions we find such examples. Martin Luther King's dream speech was poetry, as was the Emancipation Proclamation, Kennedy's national address was certainly influenced by the great poets of the time. This very poem was prominently influenced by Ginsberg's Howl,
which I had perused on the top floor of City Lights a few months previous.
Poetry L & T:
Your poem "Love Letter to the Supreme" fascinated
me... is it a kind of love message to God? Or to a
kind of abstract idea of what, or who, God may be?
Tyler:
Simply stated as much, this was a love message to the higher beings which we claim as a God. Of course, as applies to greater theologic standards, it also is intertwined in the human psychoses; as ultimately our conceptions are the base ground for the _expression of what a deity is, it is also a love statement to the ideals of our human condition, to the evolutionary standard which projects our hope for the creation of a perpetually potent force.
Poetry L & T:
Is there anything in contemporary poetry, especially
online, that really, really annoys you?
Tyler:
Naturally, like any devoted poet, I find the gushing reviews of certain forums to be most irksome. There have been numerous forums which I've visited which consider critical assessment, citing both positive and negative points for the poem, to be a personal attack on not only the poet, but the very institution in which it is displayed. Likewise, some forums go the extreme opposing polarity, with a few Cerebus critics giving reviews such as "This is complete garbage, I'd throw this poem away".
Poetry L & T:
I like the vivid descriptions in your poem "Victuals
for the Mind"... it made me very hungry. Good poetry
speaks to and from the senses - which this poem does
very well. Do you often write about food and drink?
Tyler:
Food for the soul, it is said, sustains us beyond all hungers. I don't make poems of subjective standards to such things, although there are examples, such as
in which I give the elaboration of wildberry pie, chocolate cigars, and a fine apéritif, in order to enunciate the deliberation of the moment. Naturally, while purely subjective poems are good as appetizer literary pieces, I feel that the application of such standards are more valuable in compliment to finer moral or environmental tones.
Poetry L & T:
How has the internet helped you, as a poet?
Tyler:
I honestly feel that the Internet affords only limited opportunities in some traditional mien. It is my sincere belief that the numerous travels and features on stage are more beneficial than the quantity exposure which the Internet affords. Naturally, the online pursuits are a valuable tool in progressing the multimedia realm of the poet, however, my first national feature was out on the street, and the lion's share of my promotion has happened either through stage and street readings or the dissemination of my hand crafted works throughout the 50US.
Poetry L & T:
I know that you are a big fan of Jewel... do you have
any romantic poems about her that you would like to
share here, or a link to a poem page dedicated to her?
Tyler:
I would be more than delighted to offer both, there are numerous poems at your disposal, first will be Jewel I, the first hard copy publication I achieved:
Beyond this, One can find J-03 at February's Autumn Leaves, and Glitterdust Prophecy, which was adapted for her song 'The New Wild West' in 'This Way,' at my authorsden.com/poetry.
9-6-00 Jewel
(My first published work, in Santa Cruz' Essay)
Such sufficing grace
as to precede creative desire
The essence of beauty
held within my sight
How can I be brave
when my only fear is losing this moment
Love falling upon me like summer rain
So many colors resound within
this heart made fragile by caution
like a crystalline tuner
her voice reminds me
of a lily lined flute
The soft willowy warble
sweet melodic reverberation
The soft full sound
What sweeter words I know not
than I love you
Poetry L & T:
Do you think that poets sometimes disclose a little
too much of their secret selves, and have you ever
revealed something in a poem that you regretted later?
Tyler:
I don't believe that, through base principle, the poet can be overly discursive so long as the work is done tastefully, or at least strikingly. To such ends, I have no regret in writing a poem, my only regret is for the lost poems in any given instant which the world takes or disallows the crafting of.
Poetry L & T: Finally Tyler, what is your main ambition for the future?
Tyler:
My primary action for the future, come spring thaw, is a cross country walk, as aforementioned. On it I shall reminisce of my salad days in Cali, my post 9-11 volunteering, and the bevy of experiences in being a modern troubadour, there should be a corresponding poetry book which compiles the poems in the Biography.
Poetry L & T: Thank you for the interview, Tyler.
Tyler: As ever, it is a delight to correspond with such esteemable folks as dwell here, enjoy the poems!
 | NEW - in our merchandise store: the Poetry Life & Times Poetry Journal... click image to find out more.
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| Dear Poets, Welcome to the May 2004 issue of Poetry Life & Times (For those of you reading this on a mirror site and not poetrylifeandtimes.com, click here).
This month's interview features Tyler Joseph Wiseman, published poet and co-moderator of the Woodstock Colony Poet's group and the New Pleiades.
Featured Poets this month include Eli Jones, Ward Kelley, Robin Ouzman Hislop, Jim Dunap, Richard Vallance and Jan Sand.
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In the Vallance Review for May 2004, Richard's Review No. 33 is part two of the special Vallance Review on Alan Seeger's sonnets: "Alan Seeger: a True Romantic at Heart".
Fans of The Perils of Norris cartoon: now you can buy Norris merchandise for home and office, including a stylish wall clock, plus a new poets' journal with Norris on the cover and ruled pages inside for your notes and poems... Click here to visit the store, which is located at CafePress.com. More goodies will be added as soon as we design them! You can also buy merchandise with our Poetry Life & Times logo.
My own poetry can be found mainly on AuthorsDen, these days. The links in the left-hand column of my pages include books and articles as well as poetry. Some of the articles give advice on making chapbooks, or finding publishers - and there is even an item on ghosts.
My latest e-book: Worlds Inside The Head, is now available, featuring animated html poetry pages, short stories, video & audio recitals, plus pages in PDF format. Click here to scroll down to the animated ad at the bottom of the page, and click the link to find out more. The animation shows images from the CD.
Any comments on this issue or back issues can be emailed to me on the link at the bottom of the page. Announcements are always welcome (brief if possible), you can also promote poetry books here.
Poetry submissions should be in plain text in the body of an email, with a small jpeg author picture attached, also a bio, with the URLs of any ezines mentioned, so that they can be shown as links. This increases the chance of inclusion, especially for late submissions. Pictures are best at a maximum of 520 pixels across, otherwise they take ages to arrive by email, especially in bitmap or TIFF format. I recommend that poets click the submissions link on our main page, for full guidelines, and please, always use a spellchecker.
Poets can submit previously-published work here. If another editor likes it, there's a chance we'll like it too.
Best Regards,
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Richard Vallance reviews sonnets, both classic and modern.
Featured Poets this month include Eli Jones, Ward Kelley, Robin Ouzman Hislop, Jim Dunap, Richard Vallance and Jan Sand. Many thanks to all contributors.
Click title below for this month's Vallance Review feature
ELI JONES
Eli Jones lives in Tasmania after years of wandering here, there and everywhere and then finally coming to the conclusion that travelling is often used as a substitute for living, a substitute that frequently fails because regardless of how hard we try, how far we go, we can never outrun ourselves and at the end of the day, wherever we are, it is ourselves that we have to live with. He has therefore ceased travelling and has extricated himself from society as much as is practically possible in order to confront as directly and as honestly as is allowable all that he feels he may be.
He is 28 but feels as if he has been here for an eternity. He has tried to fit as many lifetimes into one as is possible and to inhabit as many archetypes as is possible. There are many entities within his head.
He has been writing in a haphazard fashion for just over a decade. At first, in the throes of his insecurity, he wanted to be an artist with a capital A but has since come to terms with his place in the scheme of things and is now satisfied with being a small a artist, and he doesn’t even desire that any more.
He has become very wary of the reason for arts existence and sometimes considers art, which is a representation of reality and not reality itself, to be for those incapable of dealing with life in a direct fashion so they therefore huddle behind that which is a few steps removed from reality, aka – representations of reality, or art.
Nevertheless he submits poetry to magazines because he hates to see resources wasted and even though he is somewhat disturbed by the reason for arts existence, over the years he has leeched inspiration etc from the art of others and would therefore like to give something back through his own offerings.
So far he has had poetry published by -
- Australian Poetic Society
- Famous Reporter
- Snow Monkey
- Megaera
- Enfuse Magazine
- Numbat
- The Coffee Press Journal
- Cordite Poetry Review
- Gangway
- The Write Stuff - Showcase of Tasmanian Poetry
1. So many people to love romantically when it’s not even romantic love that I desire to embrace, So many intriguing people to talk to when it’s not even people that I eagerly crave, So many mountains of money to work hard for when it’s not even all of the earths gold that I want to accumulate, So many lurid sexual unions awaiting realization when it’s not even with my own hand that I want to masturbate, So many awe inspiring vistas ready to be devoured when it’s not even through Gods all seeing eyes that I desire to behold the spectacle of space, So many shimmering symphonies awaiting aural serendipity when it’s not even monumental music that my ears anxiously await, So many opulent mansions to dwell lazily within when it’s not even luxurious security within which my flesh wants to be caged, So many smorgasbords of sumptuous food to consume with either need or greed when it’s not even such sustenance that my tongue desires to taste, For if I can’t make it on my own and through great art create a universe for you and I to reside within, If I can’t make it on my own and this narcissistic need for art placate, Then I have no right nor reason to live and may as well through deaths waters swim, For to capture love in all of its convoluted forms and communication bothy sprightly and forlorn, Money in all of its mirth and madness and sex in both its bliss and deviance, Vision either pretty or appalling and sound both cacophonous and serenely sprawling, The quest for comfort and solitude and the dripping nectar of golden food, All the drives the wants and needs Oh to capture all of these and more is the only reason why I continue to breathe, To create the great flower of art heavenly by appearance yet born from a human seed, This is all that I desire to bequeath, Oh yes to capture and not just be a slave this is the solitary purpose for which the artist is made, To capture and not just be a slave to give and to take destroy and create and the great gods emulate, This is my only reason for living my only hope amidst the wreckage of all of these cut throat feelings, For creativity is the key to meaning the spring from which all life flows, Art being the high priest amidst the faceless droves that marries all things awake to all things dreaming, To capture and not just be a slave this is the sole reason for which I was made, But I am a barren and desolate wasteland the phoenix nest lays empty, My tongue is sober and staid my every utterance is hollow and lifelessly clichéd, And I have no doubt that I a desperate and darkened cave will forever remain this way, So my only place now in the scheme of things is not high up upon the Muses wings with pen or paintbrush in hand, But six feet under in my artless grave buried beneath my lacklustre legacy dull and bland. 2. Enraptured by the convoluted clichés of the strange urban tale where with DNA for sale in halls filled with snakes chameleon faces laugh weep and wait, Whilst store mannequins awake and dance the humanoid waltz in deep tarmac trance through these alien heartlands, Where the mother ship has been lost to evolutions natural cost as hands in the shadows grope for your pulse, Whispering, “Follow me, Follow me to the palace of the gods” as we reap with impetuous sight virgin stereotypes that languish within the loop of life, Their orbit forever breeding juxtaposed molecules of oxymoron mind that sleep in our beds for we’re one of their kind. 3. As I stretch out my wings in the ethereal realm of the mindscape I glide mesmerised and free through the nebulous void of inner space, Which turns inside out and becomes my outer face as the early morning freshness leaves me breathless and with more than a mouthful to swallow, And in this hypersensitive headspace I hear far off birds chirping happy harlequin songs which I in reply reflect back across the kaleidoscopic sky, While all’st the while evolution grows roots through time as we never knowing what next will shine into our eyes and throughout our minds throw dice that dictate the next beat of rhyme. 4. Beside the bed lamp hid whispers dark and revamped, As menacing molecules drank and begat, Wheeling and dealing upon promiscuity's lap.
 WARD KELLEY He is a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee whose publication credits include such journals as: Plainsongs, Another Chicago Magazine, Rattle, The Chaffin Journal, Midstream, Zuzu’s Petals, Poetry Life & Times, Ginger Hill, Sunstone, Pif, Whetstone, Melic Review, Thunder Sandwich, Potpourri and Skylark. He was the recipient of the Nassau Review Poetry Award for 2001. Kelley is the author of two paperbacks: “histories of souls,” a poetry collection, and “Divine Murder,” a novel; he also has an epic poem, “comedy incarnate” on CD and CD ROM.
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THE FRICTION OF YOU © Ward Kelley |
ROBIN OUZMAN HISLOP
Born UK. Childhood in Lyme Regis & Poole Dorset. Lived Scotland &, Scandinavia, The East & Spain. A great deal of my life has been spent out of England, where I was born and spent my childhood in Lyme Regis. I lived in Scotland, which was my mother's side, and take the name Hislop, as writer's name from her family.Bachelor in Arts (Hns). Philosophy & Religion. Manchester University. Resident at Pakistan, Lahore. Studies at Punjab University, New Campus, Lahore: Sufism (Tasawuf), Jalal-U-Din Rumi & Ibn Arabi. Sheffield University. Spanish & Latin American Cultural Studies. Resident in Spain from 1985 until December 1998 (Madrid and Salamanca): Resident at Salamanca , 1996-98: English Language teacher and translator for “El Ateneo”. Organisation of bilingual poetry readings at Casa do Brasil, Madrid Complutense University, Escuela Oficial de Idiomas, (Madrid Official School of Languages), Cafés Manuela and Magerit, O’Connors Pub, Madrid, El Ateneo and El Corrillo in Salamanca.
Translations of 1927 Spanish Generation Poets, selections of F.G. Lorca, Luis Cernuda, Rafael Alberti, M. Altolaguirre, Miguel Hernandez and Vicente Aleixandre’s poems have been some and the Chilean poet Andres Fisher, las Diosas Blancas an Anthology edited Ramon Buenaventura, an anthology of poetry Alchemy by Tessa Duncan and James Stephens Fairy Stories into Spanish are more recent activities. I hope to feature these, as well as introducing new translations with originals on my web page soon to be opened IBIS. I am interested in revivalist movements in modern poetry.
Appeared in Dawn Millenium Anthology published by Kedco Studios & this year appeared in their Crystal Dawn Anthology. Frequently featured in the Ezines Poetry Life and Times, Autumn Leaves, Sonnetto Poesia, Canadian Zen Haiku, appeared on Artvilla, Poetry Repairs, the Celtic Poetry Journal Imbolc and Ancient Dawn amongst others. This year will publish own anthology which will incorporate performance, on web cam and voice recital with Kedco Studios. Mystic East publishers are now in process of editing my anthology After the Cave, the Comet for publication later this year and am pleased to announce our forthcoming 2005 New Pleiades Anthology which will feature its own list poets, where I am a co editor.
http:www.authorsden.com/robinouzmanhislop
1.) i. Parque Quintana. Feb 3rd. The waxed moon tilts her face like a bird in flight at incredible height. The pl aza´s ferns bend like crooked witches sniffing under passers by. Beneath wrapped up stars futile cries of battle subside from tumult Risen to acclaim new glories from horizons never to be born on the moon´s orisons. ii. Gleadless Valley. March 3rd. Walk in the woods, trudged Feet in clotted mud, Sky so blue & cold. Half moon young or old Companies mental debate, My fervour of love & hate, My poor distress of state, Moon neither early or late, Whether I am a self substituted Or more lonely yet & liberated, I the flesh & I the word, I deed & heroic sword. Silver white it proffers no sign But being there this afternoon. iii. lady of the lamp. in soft silt sheen, a luminous vacuous sphere, sightless she hangs shauled in white lace her veiled intent of innocence. a faceless bubble of glass, a beacon without a shore, a satellite from outer space she over floats the floor. phantom nun, moon to her deathless night, bland lamplight her zombie kiss, a rustle, dry scratch soft on the face & darkness in night´s draperies, where the cobwebs of her shauls crawl in white lace across the walls. iv. nemesis to see earth naked at dawn, to hear the wild geese lune gaia rules earth & heaven, now must be another time. once her throne had been overthrown by the heavens, the heavensthen warred on against each other alone. our paper boats afloat jade, now informed words fade, we tilth earth as slaves paid for our taskmaster´s parade. still the crowd roars blood, its gory lust never is sated nor sates their god created, there´s the rub, sod & cud. out there, a world of fears, tormented laminated tears wrought of tyrant authority, a masque knows its enemy. thus is the multitude tobe fed, each closed & sealed as dead in a necropolis of necromania, nemesis on the tomb of gaia. v. Extra Time. you´d seemed to me, again i remembered, when first i became the one who was wooed, a child´s heart led to the wild, it heard what it could not speak, was a faun pursued. you seem to me now, when the world´s risen to claim its own gain, yet has it not done, was it not always so, still my prison, you seem to me, you were always, the one. & who was i ever to know more than why should sublime be unbelievable, after you´d gone & left but shell of man? is he who´d be king for a day, a fool? be sure i´ll play his joker wild extra time as your lover & child. vi. Genesis. when i will be in paradise with you, the serpent shall entwine us in embrace, our apple to core shall be bitten through & genesis the beatific face under weeping willow of orpheus & honey kiss of sweet ambrosia in the memory mists of eleusis, flesh on flesh, light on light, i your lover. when i will be in paradise with you, the music from my heart´s harp in eden´s garden shall anoint in love´s fervour true every flower, every tree to gladden with your names & open time´s sacred womb, born risen to paradise from earth´s tomb. vii. Black Moor black the moor closes in to nightmare´s arising. feet tramp ground trodden on mysteries´ remains but memories´stolen by life´s strife´s stricken as the sky is fading. the yellow crackle corn grass broken, hedgegrown, twigs bracken nesting in bramble bush thorn; yellow gorse of spring sprung spring time in death day evening. across plains come bay rowan galloping mares & stallions. silence the scream in distant drowning highway din, human insane what´s your theme? then highway dream headlight night on beam him into thing, into shadow nothing & black the moor closes in. viii. in the likeness of you. in less than a flick of eye lash, less than the blink of an eye or speck of morning dew, can be a lifetime, in the likeness of you. all realms, all domains, your apparel, human & inhuman, as i am too, in the likeness of you. stars disappear in old skies, to reappear anew & every flower in every hour blows on the threshold of moonlight tides, where fairie & jinn, diabolic & sublime, conceal aons until the land of no return, where creatures from the deeps are kept by celestial spheres of the myriad triple world, in the likeness of you. ix. High Coombs. it matters not how bright the day is, it´ll be no more than a tale. a rainbow in my window often repeats as a small miracle. clouds kiss like classical lovers framed on canvass & disperse pretending innocence, remorseless, relentless, as though they´d wanted to erase the poetry they´d written with an endless substitution. Copyright robin ouzman hislop 2004
Click here for May 2004 Featured Poets page 2 -->
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LOIS CRANSTON POETRY PRIZE CALYX announces its third annual Poetry Contest.
Prize: Publication plus $300. Deadline: March 1-May 31, 2004.
Fee: $15 per entry.
Entries can include up to three unpublished poems, no more than six manuscript pages.
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THE PERILS OF NORRIS
THE PERILS OF NORRIS, #44 - Norris and Mad Mary get to know each other in the asylum...
NEW: The Poetry Life & Times StoreYou can now buy Perils of Norris Merchandise online, including mouse mats, clocks, tote bags and postcards.
Click here to visit the store... ...or the clock image --->The Perils of Norris started in August 2000. To catch up on past episodes, click the links below, then your browser's Back button to return.
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Email us with comments, articles or poetry news, by 25th May for the June 2004 issue.
