Issue 10.1

Mexico, 2016

By Mark Wyatt

6000-07357-02-1100_Mexico, 2016

San Miguel de Allende.

 

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Mark Wyatt has been photographing the unfamous on city streets since around 1980. He posts his photographs to mwwyatt.wordpress.com, usually one or two a week. Each image shows all of what the camera saw at the moment that the shutter was tripped; they are never cropped and are minimally processed.

NYC, 2015

By Mark Wyatt

6000-03038-02-946_NYC, 2015

Brooklyn.

 

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Mark Wyatt has been photographing the unfamous on city streets since around 1980. He posts his photographs to mwwyatt.wordpress.com, usually one or two a week. Each image shows all of what the camera saw at the moment that the shutter was tripped; they are never cropped and are minimally processed.

France, 1980

By Mark Wyatt

3229-0011-03-1200_France, 1980

Jardin des Tuileries.

 

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Mark Wyatt has been photographing the unfamous on city streets since around 1980. He posts his photographs to mwwyatt.wordpress.com, usually one or two a week. Each image shows all of what the camera saw at the moment that the shutter was tripped; they are never cropped and are minimally processed.

Turkey, 1980

By Mark Wyatt

0512-0005-02-1100_Turkey, 1980

Istanbul.

 

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Mark Wyatt has been photographing the unfamous on city streets since around 1980. He posts his photographs to mwwyatt.wordpress.com, usually one or two a week. Each image shows all of what the camera saw at the moment that the shutter was tripped; they are never cropped and are minimally processed.

Irony

By Edward Butscher

The morning struggle to focus

a mind’s transparent eyeball

after eluding (yet again)

the death one cannot conceive of

when alive is the crutch distance

that compensates us with art

enough to transcend dark matter.

 

Jewish construer of a Christian

universe, born blind in Gaza’s

unchained eternity, Einstein was

compelled by vulture-hearted

legions to flee Viennese circles

for suburban-square New Jersey,

there to see his fierce desert god

collapsing in quantum laughter.

 

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Edward Butscher is the author of first biographies of Sylvia Plath and Conrad Aiken, as well as shorter books on Adelaide Crapsey and Peter Wild, much criticism, and several books of poems, most recently, Eros Descending.

Paranoia

By Edward Butscher

It is a quiet, noisy, injured thing

chained inside a forehead’s high white cave,

streaming the stage performances of people

who can never be embraced or trusted.

 

It is murder by degree and decree

a Dutch or Russian uncle, predator sly,

Stalin’s problem-solving gulags, slaughters,

as if death alone could annihilate death.

 

It is a furtive, infantile rage clenched

in a father’s quick fist like graveyard dirt

or a roll of coins, his uncaged wife listening

to a dead radio for plots against their son.

 

 

——————–
Edward Butscher is the author of first biographies of Sylvia Plath and Conrad Aiken, as well as shorter books on Adelaide Crapsey and Peter Wild, much criticism, and several books of poems, most recently, Eros Descending.

Echoes          

By Edward Butscher

If an experiment can be repeated

it proves itself, as may a name sung

by steeple bells in a mind’s Norway.

 

Language and consciousness echo

one another, a scholar reasoned.

I think I said I said I think I said I.

 

Edvard Munch’s sequences of lovers

and screams and self-portraits (set

between a clock and Van Gogh’s last

 

bed) retrace his global scream,

ringing out in cartoonish ripples

that ululate into a cosmic ocean.

 

Say it again, again and again, knees

exposed to rocks and shame in short

pants, finally shed for knickers, then

 

long pants, and a detached boyhood

of tulip trees and their visible roots

clawing at sky and armies of the dead.

 

Ordinary shapes paint in awareness,

walls, doors, women walking away

on high heels, repeatedly framed by

 

long slow days after broken nights

at the far end of an island and a life

that replicate what art once saved.

 

 

——————–
Edward Butscher is the author of first biographies of Sylvia Plath and Conrad Aiken, as well as shorter books on Adelaide Crapsey and Peter Wild, much criticism, and several books of poems, most recently, Eros Descending.

The Walls

By Eric Greinke

You put your solemn

walls together, fitting

solid stones to solid

stones, the grapefruit

size, the basketball

size & the occasional

overripe pumpkin.  The

ubiquitous baseballs are

small enough to hurl

through enemy windows,

large enough to do some

real damage.  The biggest

stones are difficult to

move, as heavy as empty

rooms.  They each have a

special place in the

long argument of your

humble walls.  They fit

together as one solid

thought on the established

border between two neighbors.

 

 

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Eric Greinke‘s most recent books are Poets In Review and Zen Duende – Collaborative Poems (with Glenna Luschei).   His collaborative poem, Lone Bones (from Zen Duende, published originally in Forge 9.2), has received a 2017 Pushcart Prize. His work has been published in The Aurorean, California Quarterly, The Delaware Poetry Review, Gargoyle, Ginyu (Japan), The Green Door (Belgium), The Hurricane Review, The Journal (UK), Main Street Rag, New York Quarterly, Paterson Literary Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Poem, Prosopisia (India), Schuylkill Valley Journal, The South Carolina Review, The University of Tampa Review, and many others.

Gypsy

By Eric Greinke

In the grasping hands of snow

Beneath the ancient astrodome

Beside a cat with an empty belly

An old woman sat alone

On a soapbox of divinity.

Her eyeglasses flashed

Like metallic windows after dark

Before the fires sputtered & died

In all the great world libraries

From which we crawled, evolved

After centuries of soft neglect,

Beyond bones & muscles & blood.

Her breaths rose like chimney smoke

To shatter like cold glass on the stone floor.

 

 

——————–

Eric Greinke‘s most recent books are Poets In Review and Zen Duende – Collaborative Poems (with Glenna Luschei).   His collaborative poem, Lone Bones (from Zen Duende, published originally in Forge 9.2), has received a 2017 Pushcart Prize. His work has been published in The Aurorean, California Quarterly, The Delaware Poetry Review, Gargoyle, Ginyu (Japan), The Green Door (Belgium), The Hurricane Review, The Journal (UK), Main Street Rag, New York Quarterly, Paterson Literary Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Poem, Prosopisia (India), Schuylkill Valley Journal, The South Carolina Review, The University of Tampa Review, and many others.

Mickey

By Eric Greinke

When I was eight, after Dad left,

my mother got me a kitten.

I named him after a famous mouse.

He was black & white, & very cute.

I’d hurry home after school

to find him waiting to play.

Full-grown, he fought the other male cats,

heroically defending his territory

from atop a garden fence post.

Everyone was amazed that he came to me

when I called him from the front porch.

He came, reliably, on the first call.

 

After a few years, another big cat

became a serious territorial contender.

Mickey began to come back with chewed up ears,

or with open bite wounds on his neck.

Although he often lost, he never quit.

He still came faithfully when I called.

Then one dark evening in late summer

I called him but he didn’t come right away.

Then a raw cat moan came from the bushes.

He’d dragged himself there, a bloody mess.

Mother took him to the vet but returned alone.

I named the next kitten Buddy, after my father.

 

 

——————–

Eric Greinke‘s most recent books are Poets In Review and Zen Duende – Collaborative Poems (with Glenna Luschei).   His collaborative poem, Lone Bones (from Zen Duende, published originally in Forge 9.2), has received a 2017 Pushcart Prize. His work has been published in The Aurorean, California Quarterly, The Delaware Poetry Review, Gargoyle, Ginyu (Japan), The Green Door (Belgium), The Hurricane Review, The Journal (UK), Main Street Rag, New York Quarterly, Paterson Literary Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Poem, Prosopisia (India), Schuylkill Valley Journal, The South Carolina Review, The University of Tampa Review, and many others.