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Wandering Hermit seeking chapbook length submissions

October 23, 2014 – 6:53 am | No Comment

Wandering Hermit seeking chapbook length submissions
Wandering Hermit Press is now open for contest submissions of chapbook length poetry, fiction and nonfiction manuscripts. You will find a description of what we …

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Spirit of the Bat

October 30, 2014 – 5:54 am | No Comment

Spirit of the Bat
by Peggy Shumaker

Hair rush, low swoop—
so those of us

stuck here on earth
know—you must be gods.

Or friends of gods,
granted chances

to push off into sky,
granted chances

to hear so well
your own voice bounced

back to you
maps the night.

Each hinge
in your wing’s

an act of creation.
Each insect

you snick out of air
a witness.

You transform

into sounds,
then dodge them.

Social Butterfly

October 29, 2014 – 5:01 am | No Comment

Social Butterfly
By Christopher Barnes
Frowners Department Store
Milton Keynes 2056 6251166

In Those Years

October 28, 2014 – 5:22 am | No Comment

In Those Years
by Adrienne Rich
In those years, people will say, we lost track
of the meaning of we, of you
we found ourselves
reduced to I
and the whole thing became
silly, ironic, terrible:
we were …

My Soul

October 27, 2014 – 5:55 am | No Comment

My Soul
by Reed Posey
My Soul My Soul
Balloon up under my skin
Attacking sharks of sex gas
Angel feather touch of crass poesy
And mechanical in form of popular expression
A lock of hair with …

The Woman

October 26, 2014 – 5:03 am | No Comment

The Woman
by David Meikeljohn
Like the woman who finds work manufacturing prosthetic limbs on an assembly line and enjoys it until losing her right forearm to the clamping gears. Like the …


October 25, 2014 – 6:26 am | No Comment

by Pat A Physics
My peace pipe froze on the way up the hill. The apprehension is
plain and the ponies are stultified. Acting with new purpose,
I rub my hands …

Pinecones in the Green, Green Grass

October 24, 2014 – 4:13 am | No Comment

Pinecones in the Green, Green Grass
by Amy Poland
On Thursdays I mow my
parent’s lawn.
My mother warns me
not to hit pinecones
with the mower.
I like the sound they make.
They bark,
a sharpish sound,
like …


October 23, 2014 – 5:21 am | No Comment

by Francisco A. De Icaza
Beneath the evening gold,
above the golden corn,
the mill moves slow
its jagged sails.
Above the golden corn
hugely it shovels down
from sky to earth
the evening hoard.

there is no winter here

October 22, 2014 – 5:14 am | 2 Comments

there is no winter here
by Dirk Michener
it’s become warm all year round
and night time is a nightmare
my diathesis withered
and porch turned pale
a large patch of carpet has a big red …

shelly in the desert

October 21, 2014 – 5:11 am | No Comment

shelly in the desert
by Dan Odell
hey you hot dog,
workin’ hard in the dessert
karma relief is near
i took that fellow to the Getty yesterday. it was transcendental.
he’s a burnt out alky …

images of the walking falls

October 20, 2014 – 5:56 am | No Comment

images of the walking falls
by Josiah Bomburger
images of the walking falls
through me into the black fortress of Yoni
the death was glass
a sarcophogus made with webbing
and the rhythm was haunting
a clock …


October 19, 2014 – 5:51 am | No Comment

by Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois
You taste of cigarettes. You always forget to brush your teeth. I have to remind you. It’s part of our illicit ritual.
My wife tastes of pesto, …

First Skate

October 18, 2014 – 5:33 am | No Comment

First Skate
by Dean Smith
Anticipation builds as I near the pond
Mixed with anxiety–waiting so long
Every fall I look forward to gliding
O’er this frozen oval on steel blades riding
Tis a beautiful, blissful, …

a night in a small boat with a book of recipes

October 17, 2014 – 6:05 am | No Comment

a night in a small boat with a book of recipes
by Eric Sterling
I carved your initials in my leg with
a kitchen knife
and didn’t wash it
before putting it back
so that when …

3 Haikus by Jose Tablada

October 16, 2014 – 7:08 am | No Comment

Haiku of a Day
by Jose Tablada
Tender willow,
almost gold, almost amber,
almost light…
The geese on their
clay trumpets sound
false alarms.
Royal peacock, slowly fulgurant,
through the democratic barnyard
you pass like a procession…

spare rod

October 15, 2014 – 5:02 am | No Comment

the spoils of childhood
by Halifax
bend over
hold still
stop fidgeting
I haven’t even
touched you yet
move your hands
or by God
I’ll hit them too
I don’t want to hear it
you had this coming
so quit your sobbing
oh …


October 14, 2014 – 5:53 am | No Comment

by Clinton Van Inman
Engines lie
Rotting and rusting
In the sands
Roar no more to the
Sounds of freedom to
The flock of birds under
A carbon sky.

Last Call

October 13, 2014 – 5:19 am | No Comment

Last Call
by Anthony Liccione
I was in Maine when you called
with troubling words,
a frog in your throat
it must have been a struggle
to find me unlisted. Then push those
eleven digits slowly, when …

The Disease

October 12, 2014 – 5:48 am | No Comment

The Disease
by Michael Avellar
It always helps to start at the beginning and it is at the beginning in which we all wish to start. However it is of the …

Inside Every Vending Machine It’s 1979

October 11, 2014 – 9:45 am | No Comment

Inside Every Vending Machine It’s 1979
by Mary Biddinger
There’s no such thing as nostalgia
for artificial wood grain, especially when the color
mimics a wet pig yard in April. Nevertheless
we’re trapped in an …

Who to Name, Who…

October 10, 2014 – 5:38 am | One Comment

Who to Name, Who…
by Scott Peirce and Travis Catsull
“What a gate, fucker,
the fortress in lockdown
and you’ve severed my wire,
On the table
a black buttercup pie
and the electric owls
scream through the kitchen
And …


October 9, 2014 – 5:31 am | No Comment

by Wendell Berry
It’s the immemorial feelings
I like the best: hunger, thirst,
their satisfaction; work-weariness,
earned rest; the falling again
from loneliness to love;
the green growth the mind takes
from the pastures in March;
the gayety …

Work Boots: Still Life

October 8, 2014 – 5:01 am | No Comment

Work Boots: Still Life
by Jim Daniels
Next to the screen door
work boots dry in the sun.
Salt lines map the leather
and laces droop
like the arms of a new-hire
waiting to punch out.
The shoe …

The Bald Headed Doll

October 7, 2014 – 5:32 am | One Comment

The Bald Headed Doll
by Hal Sirowitz
When I was five years old, Father said,
I ripped the hair out of my sister’s doll,
& used it as a wig. I took my violin
& …

The Radius of Touch

October 6, 2014 – 4:18 am | No Comment

The Radius of Touch
by Arthur Sze
Rising over granite cliffs in an aerial tram,
we view the rippling lights of Albuquerque
and volcanoes to the west. At the summit,
the circumference of peaks dissolves
when …


October 4, 2014 – 4:06 am | No Comment

by Heather Allen
So still at heart,
They respond like water
To the slightest breeze,
Rippling as one body,
And, as one mind,
Bend continually
To listen:
The perfect confidants,
They keep to themselves,
A web of trails and nests,
Burrows …


October 3, 2014 – 3:13 am | 3 Comments

by Shannon Baker
bricklayer lays himself down upon
his body. builds a better way
flapnasty foliage, orbital dirt.
space dust come to rest and we
sucking fruitmeat on some perching-porch.
airing out our animal, lest film-filthy
flesh …


October 2, 2014 – 4:48 am | No Comment

by Juan Gelman
he was born on the brink of a disastrous day
face to face with another just like it but
in the …

Our Neighbor

October 1, 2014 – 5:21 am | 2 Comments

Our Neighbor
by Ivan Hobson
Every family that lived in our court
had an American truck
with a union sticker on the back
and as a kid I admired them
the way I thought our soldiers
must …

Review of Evening Sun: A Widow’s Journey

October 1, 2014 – 2:13 am | No Comment

Evening Sun: A Widow’s Journey is a poetry chapbook by Aline Soulesl
Review by Carol Smallwood
Andrew Benzie Books (May 29, 2014) 38 pages, $3.79
Aline Soules’ work has appeared in journals, e-zines, …

Ephram Pratt Delivers on Silence

September 30, 2014 – 5:26 am | No Comment

Ephram Pratt Delivers on Silence
by Jack e Lorts
The Druze influence
begged a certain indifference,
spanning the islands
along the coast
as well as incidental
fingers reaching
into a false aftermath,
liquored up like
loggers locating
dying rebels
alone in colorful
jerseys, …