March 2022 – Page 2 – Fevers of the Mind

2 Poems for Lou Reed by Robert Frede Kenter : Variance (2 parts)

Variance

Thinking of Lou Reed. and New York City

that was and is /now gone…gone….so
still …the fragile shards of some unreasonable flower from half empty pockets torn from old coats ….entwines and blooms so there still this vibrant pulse ….the fleeting skein of some dense architectonic memory….always leaving, yet inside the vein beneath my skin and at twilight you are still there too and leave a card beside the wall on a scattered table….the pulse, the pulse….that I think is….though also ….gone….

For Lou Reed (1978)

fragile unreasonable flower
old full-length black autumn coat with pockets
dogeared post card against a wall
drifts from a scattered table
books letters notebooks
bloom inside the entwined half-full
shards inside this midtown Manhattan
SRO hotel

In the cold
In the cold vibrant twilight
In the cold vibrant
In the twilight
In cold twilight

5 poems inspired by Leonard Cohen by Robert Frede Kenter (Before I Turn Into Gold Day)

Poem for a Russian Grandmother in Exile by Robert Frede Kenter w/ A Painting by Moira J. Saucer

4 poems from Robert Frede Kenter in Avalanches in Poetry

An Interview with Robert Frede Kenter of Icefloe Press

4 poems by Robert Frede Kenter published in Fevers of the Mind Press Presents the Poets of 2020

Wolfpack Contributor: Robert Frede Kenter

Robert Frede Kenter is a 2020 pushcart nominee, poet, visual artist, editor and the publisher of Ice FloePress. Currently living in Toronto, work is published widely, incl. Floodlight Editions, Cypress, Burning House Press, Anthropocene, New Quarterly, Grain, Prairie Fire, Going Down Swinging, Fascist Panties, Cough, Fevers Of. The hybrid, Audacity of Form (2019), is available from Ice Floe Press. Check out Robert’s latest book “Eden” with Floodlight Editions.

Eden is a selection of hybrid pareidolia poetry which glides within abstract visions. Robert Frede Kenter’s mirrored shards dangle inside sensory gardens. Smoke encircles words communicating raw politics and myth through jazzy vibrations twinkling in the shadows. Kenter’s poetry contorts paint, collage, drawn figures, photos, and found text. This imaginative collection, along with his other works and collaborations spanning more than three decades, solidify his place in the experimental poetry scene.

— Margaret Viboolsittiseri

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1081912272/eden-robert-frede-kenter

Poetry by Catrice Greer: Come Home

Come Home a poem for George Floyd (June 7, 2020 Catrice Greer)

These wombs, sacred,
we build placenta worlds of blood and bone
cord by cord, cells churning with life
a zygotic landscape

s .. a .. f .. e

safe from gunshots, lethal force, blue bias, blows
safe from bent-tongued accusations, chokeholds, grief
tears and pain light-years away
the amniotic sac aglow
you hear only my voice

Mommy …

I walked with you, my love, my sun
floating close to my own heartbeat
tethered in the mitochondrial house
we are one
my peace, your peace

my child, to lose you to this world
that does not know you
never carried you
is not the deep-rooted tree of life I birthed
a premature exit is not the afterbirth of my labor

Call my name
when the end is near
I will come again for you
I will come again for you, my angel
my sweetness
you will reside here with me, rest in peace.
Come home.

breathe
breathe
breathe

Wolfpack Contributor: Catrice Greer

Fevers of the Mind Interview Catrice Greer w/poetry “Yearning Through the Fog” & “Cortical Cartography”

A new poem by Sarika Jaswani “Silkworm”

Silkworm

I'm the casualty
in tragedy of your dissolution

A vantage point
where eyes stay foggy
perception a little blurry
air raw-bone emphysematous

Days slip on snail's trail and gloom runs derby on hothoofed years bending time

Life worming on mulberry leaf, cocooned in silky spun shell of your memories

Wolfpack Contributor: Sarika Jaswani

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Sarika Jaswani (artincrochet)

 Bio: Doctor by profession. I'm a Crochet Artist, Art Tutor Writer of Children's Stories, Philanthropist. Poet. Published. Passionately reads & writes poetry. Art Lover. Bird lover. Dreamer and blogger.Published on 'Tide Rises Tide Falls' & on Medium with A Cornered Gurl @ACG @Scittura  

Fevers of the Mind Poetry on WordPress 
Silver Birch Press 
The Organic Poets  
A frequent VSS prompt writer on twitter 
My poems run on theme of love, reflection and philosophy of life.
 ArtinCrochet on Twitter @sarikajaswani

3 Poems by Paul Brookes in Fevers of the Mind: Her Fiftieth, Her Fur Elise, A Black Bead

HER FIFTIETH

You would have been

fifty this mayday, sis

five in the car, you drive.

nail in the tyre, too much

wine last night you celebrate

a workmate’s birthday

drive down the motorway

to pick up your son from school

a bottle of wine a night

amasses fat in your face

a business built from zilch

debts you hide from view

grieving for a mother

dead three years

bumps in the road

nails in your tire

car leaps over reservation

somersaults onto bank

and back again

the other four crawl out

sit on the bank

watch firemen cut you out

your excess weight

squashed against steering column

the only one to die

only thirty five

finally, with mum

I celebrate your fiftieth

my dear, dear love.

Her Fur Elise

I awake to Beethoven as Mam taps the upright

Piano downstairs in the through lounge

where morning light highlights dark brown dining table

And varnished coffee table both polished

with Pledge until you see yourself. Later

chemo will make her petite fingers fat,

Fur Elise break into fragments as disease progresses

and piano sold as her hands come to rest.

A Black Bead

I was given in Fifties by an Indian guru

in Madras with advice “Keep this

and you’ll be alright.” Correctly guessed

I had two girlfriends.

Eighty one now with asbestosis

a cough that hacks

at his body more each time we meet.

-You’re so thin dad?

-He said I’d be dead at eighty two.

-Where is it?

-I can’t find it.

-I’d best start preparing now.

-It’s a joke,

he says and spits

into his half full spitbag.

I find the blue paper

he wrote the prophecy on

dated 1962

the year I was conceived,

and take a photo of it with my mobile.

I give it to him

in the hope he’ll notice

it says he’ll die at 84.

He died at 83.

BIO: Paul Brookes is a shop asst. His chapbooks include The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley, (Dearne Community Arts, 1993). The Headpoke and Firewedding (Alien Buddha Press, 2017), A World Where and She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017, 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Port Of Souls (Alien Buddha Press, 2018),Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018)

Forthcoming Stubborn Sod, (Alien Buddha Press, 2019), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). He edits The Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

The Unresolveables (An Heroic Crown Sonnet Sequence) by Paul Brookes at (sonnets 1-15)

Anthology Post: Finding a Wonderland in Alice by Paul Brookes (poetry)

Wolfpack Contributor: Paul Brookes

Published poetry by Robin McNamara from “Under A Mind’s Staircase”

The Devil’s List

Demon dogs howl at the moon’s rise.
The room is readied with incense of
Frankincense and myrrh.

Have the angels fled?
A shadowy figure moves slowly;
Almost elevated.
The grass is scorched from hooves
Of the called.

As the devil thrills a captive audience,
With his splendid playing of the violin.

‘Such gusto! Bravo sir!’
— How the fires are stroked.
Such glow cast upon faces.

‘Care for a margarita?’
To watch the burning
Of the Testament.

For the poet hasn’t arrived yet with a rebuttal. Dare he try?
He lays at the Devil’s
Feet— like a faithful dog.

The crowds dance like mistresses
To music of the Devil’s symphony.
Have the angels fled?

The sounds cascade down their writhing bodies- The fiddle has them captivated.
It’s inside them/possesses them.
How they moan...

In a dream-like state, the music of the Stradivarius wraps its trilled embrace round me.

The angels have fled.

Happily Ever After

In this house of ours,
We (you) picked out
The new wallpaper in this
Sitting room of silence.

The pictures on the wall
In the hallway near the door
(Which once promised freedom)
Seems somewhat... incongruous,
To what the separate bedrooms entails.

Two unfulfilled souls in their
Own Les Misérables.

Frowns, sighs and shrugs
Are reiterated daily.

From blossoming beginnings:
You’re so lovely!
Ah stop, I’m blushing!

To the happily ever after of:
Did you put the bloody bin out?
Where’s my socks?

Hedgehog Poetry Press (c)

Blurb for “Before the Bridges Fell” upcoming book by me (David L O’Nan) on Cajun Mutt Press from Robin McNamara

2 poems by Robin McNamara : New York city ain’t you just so & Holy Fires of Religion

Poems by Robin McNamara : “Here in the Woods” & “Sandpaper of Shame”

3 new poems from Robin McNamara

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Robin McNamara

Wolfpack Contributor: Robin McNamara

Bio: Robin McNamara has over 145 poems published worldwide in America, Canada, Ireland and in the UK with Versification, Pink Plastic House, Daily Drunk, Full House Literary Magazine, Dream Journal, Second Chance Lit, Literary Heist & Ephemeral Elegies. A regular contributor to Poetry Ireland and Black Bough Poetry poetry prompts. Robin’s forthcoming debut chapbook, Under A Mind’s Staircase, published by Hedgehog Poetry Press, UK is available to purchase now at: https://robinmcpoet.com/