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Issue 7

January 13, 2015

 

THEME: Tree/s

 

FEATURING: Craig Brandis, Joanna M. Weston, Janeswaree Sweta Maloo, J.D. Isip, Fred Zirm, A.J. Huffman, Paula Schulz, Janet Garber and David Subacchi

 

Wintering Over

by Craig Brandis

 

the wildlife refuge

has old oak trees

 

the way we

have relatives

 

gathered in clans

and spending decades

 

not

speaking

 

Biography: Craig Brandis is a singer-songwriter living in Portland, Oregon. His poems have been published in the Camel Saloon and the Friends of William Stafford newsletter.

 

The Leaf

by Joanna M. Weston

                        

grab it

before the tree falls

 

catch that last falling memory

before it rots and leaves you high and dry

 

lonely

stuck waiting beside the passing train

holding one yellow leaf

 

Biography: Joanna M. Weston is married. She has two cats, multiple spiders, a herd of deer, and two derelict hen-houses. Her middle-reader, ‘Those Blue Shoes', published by Clarity House Press; and poetry, ‘A Summer Father’, published by Frontenac House of Calgary. Her eBooks found at her blog: http://www.1960willowtree.wordpress.com/

 

Dreaming Bark

by Sweta Maloo

 

A lone Pink Pigeon sat by -

witnessing life defile,

in half-sipped breaths, zinging to the call of Death,

feeding Black River, in dripping drops.

“Stop!” And coupling Calamindas clouds bumped

into their front’s back - then, faded quickly.

Two twining twigs soared

to Sega with the gusts - but failed lamely.

Wait became a warm infested blanket;

lasting so long that pariahs eating my soul hollow

were now common friends - when I saw

a chopped-off bark, dreaming of being

a full-grown Ebony tree again!

Its dead leaf was not so dead either.

I felt its tremor,

like a derelict carcass filled with vigour.

And if luck’s caress was not misplaced,

a pale consolation breathed in the cove of pain,

nestling the tender birds’ loveseat, albeit stained.

Then suddenly, I was a loose compass,

yearning to revive the Dodo with incantations,

ignoring cyclone Carol’s bad eye,

weaving tempestuous dreams anew.

Only dry laughter dropped wet sorrow

from my fading forefather’s absent bone-marrow.

 

Biography: Sweta Maloo is a young writer from Mauritius. She writes poetry as a hobby. She has been published by The Rainbow Rose and Dead Snakes namely.

 

Planting a Fruit Tree

by J.D. Isip

 

Plunging fingers into dirt – feel for life, soft soil

lifted like a prayer – to make the hole.

 

Moved topsoil, the spoiled elements, earliest emptiness –

Fingering potted lavender stocks to look interested, to look

unempty, unlonely, unaffected –

Filling time with lilacs and primrose, long projects, long

hours without connection…

 

Plant perennials – they last all year – sturdy, reliable

like the friendships, pets and God of the past

years when I didn’t notice gardens.

 

Border plants, dwarf shrubs, not all flowers – some story

being told in plants on the front lawn of each house

I never noticed –

How suffocating the void is.

 

Biggest hole so far – the first tree, a fruit tree

the gift of whole seasons of waiting:

growth spurts to gab over, blossoms for snap shots,

an hour each day to celebrate – the reason

dying couples get pregnant.

 

Pouring fistfuls of dirt, filling the loose spaces

packing every crevice, every moment.

Packing.

Every.

Packing.

Moment.

 

Biography: J.D. Isip’s poetry, plays, and short fiction have appeared in several online and print journals. His poetry collection Pocketing Feathers will be released by Sadie Girl Press in 2015. J.D. is a professor living in Plano, Texas. He is a California native who misses Disneyland very much. He is the editor for Ishaan Literary Review.

 

A Hazy Shade of Spring

by Fred Zirm

 

The leaves start as the lightest green

fog, caught in the trees’ bare branches,

then condense into darker clouds

summoning spring’s perfect storm –

the sudden shower of birdsong,

bright lightning of the newborn sun,

and the comic thunder of the frogs.

 

Biography: Fred Zirm is a recently retired English and drama teacher with a B.A. and M.A. in English from Michigan State and an M.F.A. in playwriting from the University of Iowa. His poetry and flash fiction have been published in Voices de la Luna, Still Crazy, and The Rejected Quarterly. He lives in Rockville, MD and is also an avid cyclist who has scaled many of the major climbs of the Tour de France.

 

The Tree Outside My Window

by A.J. Huffman

 

is a ghost, a hollow

echo of what it once was.

Graying decay, disintegrating

in wind’s bare breath, falls

in time to the chimes of midnight’s tolls.

 

Feigning sleep

in the perceived comfort of my room,

I listen to my own roots turning.

Will anyone hear me

when my limbs meet the floor?

I am sure the answer is buried somewhere

in the lack of ash, left

as we both disappear.

 

Biography: A.J. Huffman has published nine solo chapbooks and one joint chapbook through various small presses. She also has two new full-length poetry collections forthcoming, Another Blood Jet (Eldritch Press) and A Few Bullets Short of Home (mgv2>publishing). She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and her poetry, fiction, and haiku have appeared in hundreds of national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, Bone Orchard, EgoPHobia, Kritya, and Offerta Speciale, in which her work appeared in both English and Italian translation. She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press.  www.kindofahurricanepress.com

 

Tree Talking

by Paula Schulz

 

What I like best about trees is their voice—

above all high color and heavy fruit, their

staticky chatter.  They’re always passing

secrets to each other in a kind of

percussive music.  This is what birds first learn

 

rocking in their airy cradles-- what they work

all their days to embellish.  Leaves lisping, 

in spring sliding lithe bodies past each other,

or in autumn, reaching with arthritic hands

to applaud their lives one last time.  They speak 

 

as maracas, scuttling down the sidewalk

with a raspy good-bye.  Stepped into grass,

they shatter to a broken symphony,

and blending back to earth, they say to us: 

this is the joyous song of becoming.

 

Biography: Paula Schulz lives in Slinger, Wisconsin with her husband Greg. She has spent countless hours loving the trees in her backyard.

 

Trees in a Hurricane

by Janet Garber

 

We can take anything you can throw at us

That’s what we were always taught.

Bend. Sashay. Flutter. Shimmy.

Do what you have to.

Beckon. Sway. Stretch out an arm.

Do the Cha-cha.

Play the fool –

Don’t forget what you learned in school!

 

The wind may blow

And lightning strike

First thing you know

The ground may move.

 

The mud may swirl

So plant your feet

Your roots will curl

Sink to your knees

But always dance for all you’re worth!

 

Biography: Janet Garber lives on the outskirts of NYC with her husband and two cats and whichever children happen to be visiting. She has published in several literary journals:  Bohemia, Caesura, Contrapositions, Heyday Magazine, Minerva Rising, Newtown Literary, Up, Do Anthology, When Women Waken, Writing Tomorrow.  Her poem A Cat and Two Aspirins in the Morning was nominated for a Pushcart Prize after it appeared in the Velvet Paws anthology.

 

Wild Cherry

by David Subacchi

 

In the end we took the saw blade to you

You bent it in defiance and the small

Domestic chain cutter suffered

The same treatment

From your enraged branches

You were not for yielding

 

With a sweet fruit prey

To every bird and mammal

A trunk that seals its own wounds

To exclude insects and infections

Toughness was a quality

Inbred in you from the outset

 

A stubborn hard presence

Crossing my neighbour’s boundary

You had become the object

Of unwelcome attention

An obstruction to goodwill

 

Reddish, brown wood

Prized for cabinet making

And musical instruments

For smoking foods

And tobacco pipes

You clung fiercely to life

 

And when finally

We prevailed with brute force

And deadly technology

You groaned loudly in protest

As we struggled to sever each limb

Our faces red with the effort

 

And with the shame

Of what our sticky hands

Had accomplished

Prunus avium, Wild Cherry

Rest in peace

Forgive our barbarity.

 

Biography: David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK). He was born in the medieval walled town of Aberystwyth on the West Coast of Italian roots. He writes in both English and Welsh and performs his work regularly. Cestrian Press has published two collections of his poems. ‘First Cut’ (2012) and ‘Hiding in Shadows’ (2014) and David has been widely published internationally.

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