Holiday Interlude by Ankh Spice from Avalanches in Poetry Writings & Art Inspired by Leonard Cohen

Every morning she’s down there
on the verge, barefoot and swaying her weight
like her holy soles are slow-burning

The light here is an old violin, cracked
varnish music
scratching bars through the watcher’s window
and her grey head bows angel time while she dances
if that’s what this is

By the eighth morning I’ve composed her life
from scraps, quilting her song
with real wild bright minors
I toast her with coffee
and sing her down ribbons

The day I leave she treadles the gutter
stormwater, kicks up sticks and feathers
cursing the rain
cursing the pigeons, the windows, the watcher
wearing a whole different heart
and the light is more hammer than strings

Photo by (c) Ankh Spice

@seagoatscreams on Twitter

2020 Pushcart Nominee

Ankh Spice is a poet from Aotearoa (New Zealand), who has an abiding love of the sea, and story-songs that include small mysteries. His poetry has been recently published in Black Bough Poetry, Burning House Press, and Pixel Heart Magazine, and has recently completed his first chapbook.  @SeaGoatWhoScreamsPoetry on Facebook.

 

 

 

2 Poems False Prophet & Violet Contact by Michael Igoe

False Prophet
His reign comes to power,
when he parts from a duo.
He’s seen as handsome,
in the shelter of eaves,
shriveled in the nooks.
His lonesome patron,
working in a gallery
adheres to bold lies
in a forest of logic.
In the passage,
turnstiles click
with a thin kiss
from detentions.
He wears his best shirts
plastered with bluebirds
prizes from the auction.
He’s sure to adore them.

Violet Contact
It seems at Dawn
they are bringing
jars of grenadine.
They are finding
frightened sources
ensuring the fair trade
of a downtown widow.
I might dine
on old bones
while I sleep.
Old bones arranged
by a similar gesture.
I’ll be just as fat
as bank teller lies.
These exact words
come from inmates
as well as sweathogs.
Two bits buys the scenes
before a captive audience. Next to suburbs,
of a shining hut
belief says goodbye.

Michael Igoe,neurodiverse city boy, Chicago now Boston, recovery staff at Boston University Center For Psych Rehab. Many works appear in journals online and print. Recent: Spare Change News(Cambridge MA), thebluenib.comminerallit.com. Avalanches In Poetry Anthology@amazon.com. National Library Of Poetry Editor’s Choice For 1997. Twitter: MichaelIgoe5. poetryinmotion416254859.wordpress.com. Urban Realism, Surrealism. I like the Night.

Featured photo by Chantal & Ole on Unsplash.com

Poetry by Ivan Peledov: Places They Don’t Mind

Twisted alphabets of winds and forests
slightly change with each mile one walks
until they become pure nonsense like time and space
in the twilight composed of countless suicidal bicycles.
Clouds and leaves cover the sky like too many slovenly mothers,
and travelers happily discard their pasts
absorbing the dreams of bottled water.

Ivan Peledov lives in Colorado. His poems have appeared in Impspired Magazine, Ponder Savant, The Collidescope, Eunoia Review, and other publications.

New Poetry: Wittenberg by Kieran Wyatt


I don’t believe him
he will uv known girls
in wittenberg
can see them clearly in my head
pearly white teeth
straight too
everything about them is straight
they take
confident strides
about campus
smart as anything
well-read, intelligent
wittenberg girls know what to say
I realise, I haven’t said anything
in a while, so
I tug at Hamlet’s tunic
pull him in for a snog
he keeps his eyes open
I release him
the rest is silence

Kieran Wyatt lives on the Fylde Coast. He is co-chair of GenSex (@GenSexResearch), an interdisciplinary research group, asking probing questions about gender and sexuality. His work has been published by Eunoia Review, The Art of Everyone, Small Leaf Press, and Lothlorien Poetry Journal. He graduated from Edge Hill University in 2018 with a degree in Creative Writing.  

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Poetry: 2:01 A.M. by Angelo Letizia


The price of these memories
Is blood
Red like traffic lights
Refusing to change
Refusing to admit me on the highway
A lonely teacher
With no skin left
Or cells
No teeth
Just information
That his students need
Scooped like tuna fish
Or dirt
It diffuses
As perfume would
Clings to wrists
And necks
Begs to be let in
I pulse in the heart cables
Invisible currents
Surging through flesh
And imagination
Causing questions
I have finally transcended the skull
I have become
Electrical

Angelo Letizia has been published (or is forthcoming) in a number of literary outlets including Tales from the Moonlit Path, Bewildering Stories, The Atlantean, Sirens Call, Red Planet, AHF Magazine and Bowery Gothic to name a few. I also have two books of poetry forthcoming with Silverbow press The Starry Devil and Other Unwanted Poems (2021) and The Pilgrims of Infinity (2022).