Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Art Blog

Our twitter is @feversof eic @davidLONan1 Facebook Group: http://www.feversofthemind.com Fevers of the Mind Poetry & Arts Group

Submissions e-mail: feversofthemind@gmail.com 

Please send in word doc format and mostly traditional styles for easier translation to the page if possible. If not pdf will work. Google docs don’t always work so well.

Donate to our paypal also at feversofthemind@gmail.com (anything helps to keep the site going)


We are doing an online anthology on the blog for Langston Hughes. Send poetry submissions inspired by Langston to us by February 10th.

In addition We are open for Poetry Showcases for anyone to send 3-5 poems/prose. If not all pieces are accepted. I will post the 1 or 2 poems but will not be considered a showcase.

We are unable to provide compensation at this time contributors. We have to reach out through the year for donations just to keep the site going. This is for the art of poetry, music, art & other creatives.

Some poetry/art published on this site will periodically be taken down if space is running low. You will be guaranteed at least 6-8 months exposure on our website. No promises after that and don’t take it personal.

Themes we are Looking for Poetry/prose/articles/other styles of writing are for Adhd Awareness, Mental Health, Anxiety, Culture, History, Social Justice, LGBTQ Matters/Pride, Love, Poem series, sonnets, physical health, pandemic themes, Trauma, Retro/pop culture, inspired by music/songwriters, artist, inspired by classic & current writers, frustrations.

Online Submissions could include Poetry, Art, submitted Book Reviews, culture pieces, rants, pre-published poetry from self-published materials, defunct lit mags, pieces from other lit mags/books/blogs with permissions. We prefer 3-5 poems sent unless you are sending for a writing prompt. There could be exceptions to this rule of course. If we take 3-5 or more poems from you will we feature you as a poetry showcase on the website.

We prefer submissions with a bio to help promote your work. Please let us know if something has been previously published, we will make a judgment call on whether able to include. I don’t love the idea of sending rejection letters.  If you don’t receive acceptance assume we passed up this time and send something else. If you have simultaneous submissions out there, please keep this in mind. If not accepted at first, Just try again…We will not accept pieces that we deem racist, sexist, homophobic, or have pornographic themes, photos, or any type of nudity in submissions.

About writer/editor David L O’Nan

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.

My newest book released October 2022 “Cursed Houses”


Out now the Deluxe Edition of “Before the Bridges Fell”

https://amzn.to/3ftkxNX for a copy on paperback or kindle (U.S.) please check availability in your country. Some countries take awhile for the paperback to be released. It could be a few days to a couple months until available.

A Prose Piece about Poet Bill Sovern by Joan Hawkins

Cut-up Bill Sovern in the Manner of Glissant

It’s been a long hard week, waiting for a poet I love and admire to die. He was in a car accident and within days was taken off life support. Gracie Strange stayed with him, day and night, reading the posts and poems people sent, playing him music. I couldn’t post anything. Just news about his condition. And the obvious observation that my heart was broken. That I sent love. That I was in a fury against the universe.

I lost my datebook. Full of passcodes and important numbers, so I was frantic. A young couple found it, outside the Good Will, and brought it to me in the kind of downtrodden car you rarely see anymore. None of the doors opened and they had to crawl in and out through the windows.  She was swathed in cloth because, she said, she is allergic to the sun. I gave them an envelope containing $100, and thought of Bill. “For gas,” I said. And wondered what he would poetically do with such a dire affliction– being allergic to the sun.

My internet connection died in the middle of a medical phone call. My insurance refused to pay for a prescription. I saw two friends and nearly quarreled with each of them. Afternoons tipping down into depression after coffees that should have been fun– or at least interesting.

I heard the news about Bill’s accident at a picnic. All around us people were laughing– and Tony said, “have you heard about Bill?” Now at my age, that’s never good. Prizes and honors are announced with flourish, right in the lead. “Have you heard about” always means the world has tilted on its axis. The strong full moon in Aquarius has exerted some maleficent influence. Even though I don’t believe in Astrology, I always check the signs and this week the signs have not been good.

On April 20, 2021 there was a freak Tuesday evening spring snow. Tony and I were invited to read at the Bokeh. Light dusting of snow as we walked into the bar, building into a real storm, throughout the evening, visible through the windows behind the stage. We worried through tacos and tequila, and Bill moved us up in the reading queue, so we could leave before the roads got too bad. Even so, it was a gnarly drive. Tony sitting ramrod straight in his seat, me making deals with God all the way to Bloomington. Poetry is a dangerous business in Kentuckiana, Ohio, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri. We commute long distances to readings– bookstore to bookstore, bar to bar. Shit happens. Cops pulls us over and dangerous blue-haired poets are arrested for pot. There are flat tires; there are accidents. “It was snowing & the cold wind was blowing,” Bill posted the next day, “but there was a full house at the Bokeh last evening. Want to thank everyone who performed.”

The FBI raided Trump’s place in Mar-a- Lago–looking for classified documents. The war in Ukraine has come perilously close to a nuclear power plant. The Arctic is warming faster than predicted. Heartbreaking pictures show polar bears floating on chunks of ice that look like the saucer snow sleds we had as children. Just big enough for an 8 year old. There was an impromptu reading in Bill’s honor. People feeling they had to do something to mark the vigil, to send some kind of energy out into the universe. Bill’s energy– the kind that always says poetry matters- no matter what the fuck else is going on.  I can’t be there. Read the poems and tributes, hoist a glass in his honor. And am quietly glad when I read that the Senate has finally passed a bill supporting medical treatment for Vets. Salvador Dalì is dead.

I could go on like this forever. Pictures posted on Bill’s facebook page, show a tall thin man-sometimes bathed in colored light. Beat poet. Jazz poet. When I knew him, he always read with the Monkeys’ musical accompaniment. “Beyond each gentle thigh of curve/ technicolor roadkill pulsating/ on the blue collar horizons truck stops framed like/ oversized Hopper paintings” -That quote from “Blue Highways” posted alone. His facebook wall is peppered with posts from Tuscan poet Giulio Tedeschi, hinting at an international dimension to the man who liked being called “Hoosier Bill.”  Reminds me of Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Before it was translated, Tedeschi’s most recent post read “Deceduto l’altro giorno.. Che la tiera ti sia lieve Bill!” “Died the other day, may the earth rest lightly on you, Bill.” And on Tedeschi’s own wall, messages of grief at the news–from all over the wide world. Another poetic night at the Bokeh. From Gonzo Fest, the motto from the statue of liberty. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses- yearning to be free.” The paint on the banner hanging behind Bill has dripped, so the words look like they’re crying.  

The day Bill died, Salman Rushdie was stabbed 10 times onstage. If he survives, they fear he will lose an eye and the use of an arm. It is open season on writers. And the universe has gone mad. Words.  I need words. I need millions of words. Words that turn you on. Words that turn you off.

Words. The poetry reading on the 16th at the Bokeh Lounge will be a celebration of life. I will scatter his ashes at the curve of the Muddy River near the city that was his Patterson.

Full house at the Bokeh last night. I want to thank the poets.

 It’s official. Rest in peace.

Bio: Joan Hawkins is a writer and spoken word performer, who focuses mainly on creative memoir.  Her  poetry and prose have appeared in Avalanches of Poetry, Fevers of the Mind, the Performing Arts Journal, Plath Profiles, and Sand.

Two poems are forthcoming in a special poetry issue of The Ryder Magazine. She and Kalynn Brower have co-edited an anthology called Trigger Warnings, which contains one of Joan’s stories; it’s currently under consideration by Indiana University Press. “My Writing Teacher”  comes from a manuscript in progress– School and Suicide.

Joan lives in Bloomington, IN with her cat Izzy Isou. She is currently the Chair of the Writers Guild at Bloomington.

The return & revised version of “New Disease Streets” by David L O’Nan Poetry and stories


The poems & stories in this collection is a representation of the hovering stain of the year 2020. A year filled with disease, greed, hate, depression, moments of unity that only feel empty being overseen by a world of dictators. The sadness, the lies, the deprived. That is the New Disease Streets Collection.

Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog.

Poetry from David L O’Nan in the Famous Poetry Outlaws are Painting Walls and Whispers

Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today!

Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Sascha Engel

with Sascha Engel:

Q1: When did you start writing and first influences?

Sascha: I started writing for publication in 2011. My initial writing experience, amateurish though it was, was in an academic context and heavily influenced by the reading I had done in philosophy for a few years prior. Particularly, I’ve always been fascinated by Jacques Derrida’s work (especially his Grammatology), arguing that speech and ultimately everything that has meaning is an instance of a form of writing – or writtenness. Teasing this out has been my project ever since; first in academic publications and now in experimental writing. You could say that Dada/Letterism is as big an influence, although it was indirect, and a strange, anarchically refracted Hegelianism.

Q2: Who are your biggest influences today?

Sascha: In terms of my experimental prose, I think I am most influenced by reading manuals and handbooks for computing machines – that is, for 1950s and 60s computers. There’s something laconically inhuman about their precise prose that influences me every day. (To what extent it shows, though, I can’t say.)

Q3: Any pivotal moment when you knew you wanted to be a writer?

Sascha: In undergrad, when I first encountered philosophical thinking. The idea that the whole world and everything we perceive is irreducibly broken down by a prism of language made me realize that that’s what I want to do: make such a prism of my own, and maybe share it with others.

Q4: Who has helped you most with writing?

Sascha: Every time I have a conversation, however short, with anyone who shares my interests, that helps a lot. The latest of these was with Jonathan Deasy, my good friend and co-editor in Strukturriss, who helped me past an impasse and so contributed to finishing my work on artificial intelligence.

Q5: Where did you grow up and how did that influence your writing & have any travels away influence your work?

Sascha: I’m originally German, and due to my parents’ occupation moved about all over the place, from Bavaria to the Netherlands, to West Germany and then to former East Germany, and then back to West Germany. I think this has led to the realization that there isn’t really a ‘home’ per se, nor a ‘place’, but only a set of identities that shift about. When I went to the U.S. to teach in academia, and then again when I returned to Europe after dropping out of that, I think that reinforced this.

Q6: What do you consider your most meaningful work you’ve done creatively so far to you?

Sascha: The “Twenty-One Computations” that just came out in Beir Bua Press are the culmination of five years of reading ‘ancient’ computing manuals and thinking about the humans projected by them. I think both in terms of experimental prose and philosophical statement, that’s my most meaningful work to date, not least because it helps me grapple with the existential meaning of being tethered to a smartphone all day every day…


Q7: Favorite activities to relax?

Sascha: I have a place a few kilometres from home where I go to turn everything off and unwind. And I am unreasonably obsessed with the Star Wars universe.

Q8: What is a favorite line/stanza from a poem/writing of yours or others?


Very difficult to choose from so many, but I think pride of place belongs to a passage from Derrida’s Writing and Difference, which guides how I conceive of what I do: “Wanting to say the miraculous overcoming, from which thinking announces itself, terrorizes itself and, at its height, attempts to insure itself against its destruction and drowning in madness and death. At its highest point, the hyperbole, the absolute opening, the uneconomic expenditure is always surprised by, and taken back into, an economy. This constitutes a relation between reason, madness, and death,” and that relation is writing.

Q9: Any recent or forthcoming projects that you’d like to promote?


My “Twenty-One Computations” are out from Beir Bua Press: https://beirbuapress.com/2021/07/25/twenty-one-computations-by-sascha-engel/

I also publish ruminations on artificial intelligence on a regular basis at the Centre for Experimental Ontology: https://centreforexperimentalontology.com/author/thinkcontinuum/

And I’ve just launched a website! http://thinkcontinuum.eu/ This has forthcoming work as well.

Twitter: @Thinkcontinuum