Feversof Promos: Getting to Know Michigan Author Ron Riekki

Ron Riekki is a poet/writer/editor from Michigan and has been published by several publications such as Juked, The Threepenny Review, Wigleaf, Akashic Books, Beloit Poetry Journal, Spillway, Rattle and many more. He has produced/written films that have been submitted to the SooFilmFest Screenings in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan. This years festival dates are currently September 15-19th. This year “Thank You For Your Teeth” is his submission to this film festival directed by George ve Gänæaard & Horia Cucută. He has written several shorts & screenplays.

https://www.soofilmfestival.org/sff_festival/2021_films/11_tunes_and_toons.html#thank

To see all the listings for this event check out the Soo Film Festival page here https://www.soofilmfestival.org/

Ron has compiled and has written several poetry & fiction books included a book of essays based on "Stephen King's It" titled "The Many Lives of It: Essays on the Stephen King Horror Franchise"

Another unique concept for an anthology that Ron has edited is “The Way North” Collected Upper Peninsula New Works which is a collection of writing from several contributors that are writers either from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, or are based on the territory. Writers such as Steve Hamilton, Catie Rosemurgy, Keith Taylor, Jonathan Johnson, John Smolens, and Ellen Airgood are included in this Michigan Writing collection.

The Way North: Collected Upper Peninsula New Works (Made in Michigan Writers Series) Kindle Edition

“My Ancestors Are Reindeer Herders and I Am Melting in Extinction” is a book of stories and poetry through the eyes of a Saami-American that deals with struggles of today’s world through metaphors and verse.

My Ancestors are Reindeer Herders and I Am Melting In Extinction: Saami-American Non-Fiction, Fiction, and Poetry by [Ron Riekki]

https://amzn.to/2WcDbAj

An anthology edited by Ron “Undocumented: Great Lakes Poets Laureate on Social Justice” is a nice collection of Great Lakes region poets and writers that speak on diversity, social justice, and poet laureates of the region putting out some of their most meaningful works. Poets such as Rita Dove, Lauren McClung, Karla Huston, Joyce Sutphen, Zora Howard, Wendy Vardaman, Marvin Bell and much more are included in this collection.

https://amzn.to/3kfRpbJ

For more books and collections by Ron please follow the Amazon link to his books of poetry, fiction, non-fiction, essays.

https://amzn.to/2XADt4e

Links to Interviews, Poetry & more:

https://www.apprenticehouse.com/?p=1629

https://pleaseseeme.com/issue-6/poetry/three-poems-ron-riekki/

https://www.splitlipmagazine.com/7-ron-riekki

https://theamericanjournalofpoetry.com/v6-riekki.html

http://unbrokenjournal.com/2019/09/23-ron-riekki/

https://oneartpoetry.com/2021/02/03/five-poems-by-ron-riekki/

http://www.jokesliteraryreview.com/2-poems-ron-riekki

https://causewaylit.com/2017/05/23/2017-poetry-contest-honorable-mention-my-ancestors-by-ron-reikki/

http://theadirondackreview.com/interview-riekki

2 Poems about George Floyd by Ava Tenn

George Floyd, Mural, Houston Texas

George Floyd, Our Hearts Still Wear Your Tears

George Floyd, one year
Yet, it feels like today
A knee in your neck
Left you breathless
A picture unforgettable
“I can’t breathe” 
Can’t be unheard
Mama
That word 
Touched our souls
Cried with you then
Today our hearts 
Still wear your tears
Always remembered
Never forgotten
Rest In Power
My brother
BLM

When I Place My hand In My Pocket

Now, when I place my hand in my pocket
I see the horrific picture of a knee in George Floyd’s neck
Now, when I place my hand in my pocket
I hear the words ‘I can’t breathe’

Now, when I place my hand in my pocket
My mind is flooded with the inerasable picture of the cold 
Evil and cruel death of my brother
Now, when I place my hand in my pocket
I can’t say I’ve never seen a man take his last breath

Now, when I place my hand in my pocket
I see the murder of all my black brothers and sisters 
Who are dead because of the color of their skin 
Now, when I place my hand in my pocket 
I am angry and I am sad 
I’m overwhelmed and I am mad

 Because for too long we have suffered at the minds 
And hands of hate, cruelty and injustice
And for too long, too much blood has been shed 
Too many bodies have been buried
Too much heartbreak have been endured
Too many mothers, too families have suffered

Now when I place my hand in my pocket
I feel no contentment, no peace, no comfort, and I cry
Because now when I place my hands in my pocket 
I see George Floyd a face my mind can’t erase 
And I hear the words I can’t unheard “please! I can’t breathe”
So now, I no longer place my hands in my pocket.


Twitter: @empressof


Bio: Ava Tenn is a Poet and Freelance Writer.
She believes that poetry can penetrate your heart and speak to your soul and with its balm it can change the world.
She has had publications in the Toronto Sun, Good News Toronto
and Planet Africa magazine. She enjoys learning, reading, dancing and helping people. Ava believes in prayer, peace and unity and creating awareness through words that inspires and motivates. When she is not writing poetry and articles, she’s writing songs wishing she could sing.
She resides in Toronto where she is currently working on her manuscript.






Juneteenth Morning by Maggs Vibo

Juneteenth Morning

I slept
wet, drenched, dripping
splashed into a pool of hot water
boiling
Had to feel the bubbles
rising
from the bottom
hot waterbed
head towards
‘A look’ but not the sense to know
slow dreams
(on my own) clock
stop time
not wrinkles or
Father Time, but appreciation
(these words are mine)
I’ve learned enough to know
Jack Crap
and that’s a fact
check these turning words into
Poetry…give thanks and glory
to Hughes, Angelou and Gorman
for this

Wolfpack Contributor Bio: Maggs Vibo

Poem: Injustice: Can You Say Her Name? (Pouvez-vous) by David L O’Nan

man in black and white shirt wearing sunglasses
photo by Maria Oswalt (unsplash)

The Spring air hit Kentucky on just another day

The bricks lay by the fields

The cities and the horses meet

To run from the prairies to the streets.

And hooded servants like that of Ankou –

Fill up with artillery and the monsters within reach into pockets

And can’t say her name

Because to them she didn’t have a name.

The fascists jockeys that ride onto fainting thoroughbreds –

To pray surrounded by a predatorial illness

To pray-in what you want your ideal to be

To not match the ideal of thee.

Who is your God? Where does your Paraclete emerge from?

The bubbles of blood you create,

The dream of the young dissipates,

You wear the skin as the badge,

The prized buck that sits bodiless on your wall.

Le reve des jeune, elle s’appelle Breonna.  Pouvez-vous?

Cowards can you say her name?

The helicopters, the earthquakes, the fireworks,

The guns pop, and you scatter

Away like the cowards,

Hiding behind.

The fury of the streets, the siren’s beat.

Asleep in your dead skipping song

When we yell, Say her Name!

When they yell, Say her Name!

The sunshine peddles away behind your ant shaped clouds

The rest of us are mice that’ll find the cowardly lion.

The roar hiding in dresser drawers.

To peek out, to hear if you’re still being talked about

Just want it to go away, watch the ink decay on newspapers.

Every now and then

Several racing moments in your dead skipping song.

Move forward,

Backtrack to forward, stagnate

Incomplete.

Was really looking forward to the chorus that we can never get to,

Because

You can’t say her name!

You can’t say her name, You can’t say her name

A policeman arrived in the every man’s cloth.

The bloodshed, and you fall to the God

You fall to the Holy spirit, you fall and have failed at freedom.

Il sangue versato e fallisci per l’umanita

Now say her name

Ora di il suo nome

Maintenant dis son nom

Ahora di su nombre

Jetzt sag ihren Namen

Breonna

In any language

Say her name

Give her justice

Wolfpack Contributor EIC Bios: David L O’Nan & HilLesha O’Nan

Poetry by R.D. Johnson : (Not Just On) Juneteenth

(Not Just On) Juneteenth

Been a little over year
Of people having to be reminded of what black is
A reminder of the anger and a reminder of the sadness
Still the fact is
It shouldn’t take a trauma for you to understand a trauma
Only thing we are doing is piling it up
Adding a comma
Some try to be empathetic others will just call it drama
And God got something for they ass
I’m a call it karma
What goes around comes back around
And let’s just use it to describe 2020
We traded chains and shackles 
For cuffs and death
Something we saw too many
A nation went from uniting like minded people
To further put a division between everyone
To the point that folks can’t even be subtle with their racism
So what can one do?
We continue to be a voice
We continue to be the change
We continue to persevere
We have to…
We have to withstand any and everything
Now so those that come after us don’t have to as hard
Just as generation after generation had to
Just remember me as the bridge
Someone on the journey to a better life
I’m black
I’m proud
Give me my flowers while I’m here
And not just on Juneteenth
Everyday 
And don’t forget me when I’m gone

Bio: Follow R.D. Johnson on twitter @r_d_Johnson                            Check out his work on the Poetry Question with RDJ's Replays https://thepoetryquestion.com/category/replay-rdj/                  Read His work on dailydrunkmag.com                                             R.D. Johnson is a pushcart nominee, a best of the net nominee for Fevers of the Mind  "(Not Just On) Juneteenth"