The Sleeping Gypsy It is the witching hour. It is Sunday, July 11th, 1897. S. A. Andrée is about the happiest man in the world and if not the happiest, perhaps, detrimentally, the most confident. Tucked in, asleep in his bed in Sweden, gathering his energy, he dreams, not of Örnen, his balloon, but of himself – himself as an African man in simple drag. Exhausted after having flown his village, he decides to crash. Feet swollen from the joyous flight, spreading himself out beneath the full moon, he smiles at his freedom, the luxury of the open path, the exhilaration of the unknown. He begins to drift. Floating in the space between consciousness and unconsciousness, at the door of the subconscious, that is, the sub-subconscious, his young friend Frænkel, covered from head to toe in the hair of the sun, approaches him from the north, and attempts to speak. Where words are intended a roar escapes in which is heard the crunch of snow beneath boots wrapped in the winds of the uncharted Arctic, that shadow of white. In a dream-logic, Andrée’s bones interpret this as an auspicious omen and for an instant, everything is frozen in place, which is to say, both past and future, the present’s determiners, lose weight. There is no better condition in which confidence can know. Sacha Archer Sacha Archer is a Canadian writer residing in Ontario. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in journals such as filling Station, ACTA Victoriana, h&, illiterature, NōD, Experiment-O, and Matrix. His most recent chapbooks are Detour (Spacecraft Press, 2017), The Insistence of Momentum (The Blasted Tree, 2017), and Acceleration of the Arbitrary (Grey Borders, 2017), with two chapbooks forthcoming: TSK oomph(Inspiritus Press) and upRoute (above/ground press). One of his online manifestations is his blog at https://sachaarcher.wordpress.com
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One Viewer’s Response to Emily Carr’s Red Cedar That is one mighty leg jutting out from beneath her flouncy green skirt! All sinew and ropy muscle, it supports a woman of lofty ambitions — and heaven help the man who stands in her way! Bill Waters This poem was written for the Surprise Challenge, ekphrastic poetry on Canadian paintings. Known primarily for his Japanese-style micropoetry, Bill Waters also writes ekphrastic poetry, found verse, book spine poetry, and all manner of short prose. He lives in Pennington, New Jersey, U.S.A., with his wonderful wife and their two amazing cats. Eva Gouel’s Last Tango with Picasso "Women are machines for suffering."-- Pablo Picasso For all the machismo of your slashing diagonals you cannot bear the absence of our close embrace, the demise of your dominance. So on canvas you dance your denial: one primal stroke dissects the curve of my neck you slant the slope of my shoulders into the flatline of the future. The breasts you once kissed, the womb you might have rounded are in your hands half-moons burdened with the guache of grief sisters of the love-sick moon who illuminates the anguish of your blank stare. You make certain no one else will caress the flesh you slice from my thighs that my dismembered fingers will grasp no other shoulders in a sudden lunge submitting to another’s will. The love letter you write —J’aime Eva— where your angles part my legs shortens the single step between love and death between the red-green-yellow-blue of children’s toys with which you paint my moods and the black of your bladed lines. And while you remake my mind into an empty latticework my eyes remain open but unseeing lips still and silent. With this dance of death your genius flowers yet transforms me-- partner, playground-- into your milonga, the scene of an immortal crime. Jennifer Hambrick This poem was first published in A Rustling and Waking Within: Poems Inspired by the Arts in Ohio, ed. Sharon Fish Mooney (Ohio Poetry Association Press, 2017). A Pushcart Prize nominee, Jennifer Hambrick was a winner in the 2017 international Golden Triangle Haiku Contest and received prizes in the 2017 Montenegrin International Haiku Competition (English) and the 2017 Kaji Aso Studio International Haiku Competition (Boston). Her debut chapbook Unscathed (NightBallet Press), was nominated for the Ohioana Book Award. Her work has appeared in the Santa Clara Review, Third Wednesday, Mad River Review, Heron Tree, Pudding Magazine, River River, Muddy River Poetry Review, the major Japanese newspapers The Asahi Shimbun (The Morning Sun) and The Mainichi (The Daily News), Modern Haiku, and many more. Jennifer Hambrick is founder and editor of the International Women's Haiku Festival. A classical musician and public radio broadcaster and web producer, Jennifer lives in Columbus, Ohio, USA. Her blog, Inner Voices, is at jenniferhambrick.com. A Sharpshooter's Last Sleep
He lays on a mattress of hard earth as if he has fallen asleep, one knee bent, arms resting comfortably by his side the way he might have lain at home in his own bed. Leaves of a mulberry stir in the morning breeze. The sounds of battle have faded but traces of black powder smoke sour the air. If I could kneel down with my ear close to his, I might hear his mother's voice calling him to morning chores before breakfast, a call that will not rouse him today. David Jibson David Jibson grew up in western Michigan near the dunes and shores of Lake Michigan and now lives in Ann Arbor. He is retired from a 35-year career in Social Work, most recently with a Hospice agency. He is a member of the Crazy Wisdom Poetry Circle and co-editor of the literary and visual arts magazine, Third Wednesday. Surprise Ekphrastic Challenge: Rene Magritte
The recent poem by Andrena Zawinski on Marilyn Monroe and Magritte provides a perfect segue to our new surprise challenge. I am amazed still, thirty years after first standing in front of Magritte's paintings of bewildering dreams, by his ability to surprise. Especially intriguing is how there always seem to be paintings we have never seen! Magritte hated to be called a surrealist, which I suspect was a combination of conviction and a clever bit of showbiz and tongue in cheek. His paintings are the very definition of surrealism, but the artist wanted us to think beyond labels and how they directed our conclusions. Your challenge is to use these ten prompts to write some poetry, prose, or fiction. Use one or try them all. See where contemplating Magrittian mysteries will take you. There are no rules. Any form, any length, any genre, any painting. And any other Magritte painting, should you be hooked and want to go for more. But please, send only your best as submissions for possible publication in The Ekphrastic Review. Deadline: We always take late submissions, because we will consider work responding to any artwork at any time. So if you are coming upon this challenge after the fact, you aren't excluded. But try to send your responses by the deadline. August 1, 2017 I can't wait to see what you come up with! Lorette C. Luzajic, editor, TER Read my essay, "What is the Artist Trying to Say? Nothing, Says Magritte" published earlier in The Ekphrastic Review, from my book Truck, and Other Stories About Art. Dreamboat (Thinking of Marilyn Monroe after viewing Magritte's white dress in Philosophy in the Boudoir) So here she comes again, that big blonde dreamboat sailing onto the scene, polished to a sheen, heady and haloed by seabirds, sails at her mast billowing like a finger crooked and calling you to her. And you move toward her, just on the chance she may ask you to enter some cabin holding a geography of mounds in breasts and buttocks, and where in the closet hangs a perfect white dress, dreaming her body breathing inside it. Andrena Zawinski This poem appeared previously in Eating Her Wedding Dress: A Collection of Clothing Poems, edited by by Vasiliki Katsarou, Ruth O'Toole, and Ellen Foos, Ragged Sky Poetry. Andrena Zawinski’s latest poetry collection is Landings. She has two previous award winning collections and four chapbooks. Her poems have received accolades for free verse, form, lyricism, spirituality, and social concern. Zawinski runs the San Francisco Bay Area Women’s Poetry Salon and is Features Editor at PoetryMagazine.com The Birth of the Virgin, circa 1627
Gathered taffeta curtains frame the birthing scene. Recumbent, tucked in blood red flannel, Anne sags into her bedclothes, oblivious to offers of consommé and sweet loaves from her girdling attendants. Linens cascade down shoulders, pour out from the hamper’s lip unstained. Mary mews, hearty in the midwife’s arms. Uninvolved in the slow commotion, aglow in blue and mustard organdy, a patron meets Zurbarán’s gaze. Her widow’s peak pronounces rank and age. She poses crimson-cheeked, laden with gifts: a chest, a basket. Her eggs intact. Christina Lloyd Christina Lloyd's work appears in various journals, including Canadian Woman Studies/les cahiers de la femme and The North. She is currently pursuing a PhD in creative writing through Lancaster University. A Stellar Fingerprint
Its fingerprint of astral trace singles out sidereal face amongst the heavenly array of stellar orbs in star ballet that dance in metamorphous space. The light dispersals limn with grace celestial body in its place for earthly mortals, to portray its fingerprint. Yet nature’s flux persists in pace, as death takes all in vast embrace despite what star one’s cast to play, plus humankind will fade away and time shall by and by erase its fingerprint… Harley White This poem was first published by the Astro Poetry Blog of Astronomers Without Borders. Harley White is a born word-lover and has written works dealing in fairy tales, musicaltheatre, many genres of poetry, and awakenings, as well as a book titled The Autobiography of a Granada Cat – As told to Harley White. For many years, she has been a follower of the Buddhism of Nichiren Daishonin and its practice of Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. http://harleywhite.awardspace.com/ Canada? Boring? What If? The artist asks “What if daily life in Canada is boring?” an impossible question, it’s too complex, and so to parse it I ask myself “if I were a province, which one would I be?” Alberta comes to mind. I’m thinking mountains and nature when I say that, not oil fields and pipe line conservatives. The same way I envision Yellowstone grizzlies and bull moose, not gun-toting white supremacists when I think of Wyoming. Then again there are the coastal provinces, and I’m big on the ocean. I could be a mix of big city BC -- Vancouver and laid back little Nova Scotia. But back to the question Canada? Boring? What if? It’s too much. My big city friends wonder if daily life is boring where I live here in small town Vermont. I could tell them, but that wouldn’t be the answer. When it comes to big questions the only answers that count are those you find out on your own. Charlie Rossiter This poem was written for the Surprise Challenge, ekphrastic poetry about Canadian paintings. Charlie Rossiter's popular poetry podcast can be heard on the first and third Fridays of every month. http://www.poetryspokenhere.com/ Get his free ebook, Poems People Like, here: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/39347 On Seeing Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase
Splintered, fractured, loosened, you began a free fall -- a bundle of firewood with untied strings, slipping from one loose end, scattering… like spilled water in a frozen frame. Nude, stripped from all signs of life -- no trace of green, no scent of freshness, no moisture or growth of the forest you once belonged to -- dried and ready to turn into cinder in the fire… yet somehow still bouncy and alive -- as if all the cutting, stripping and splitting that had been done to you only unleashed a new life -- a life doesn’t seem to be what it seems, descending the stair -- but to where? Robert Y. C. Hsiung Robert Y. C. Hsiung: "Born in China, attended colleges in US, received degrees in architecture from University of Illinois and MIT. Five decades of architectural practice, combined with teaching and watercolour painting. Wrote poetry during teens, again briefly at age 60, in Chinese. Resumed poetry writing at age 81, in English. This is my first attempt for publication." |
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