2013 Released Chapbooks
Hurricane Drunk by Laura Bogart
Three stories, three characters, three predicaments.
Laura looks at life and the ordinary when it is just a little off. click on the cover for more information and to order. Family Affair by Shaun Rouser
Three short stories revolving around the meaning and missives that are family.
click on cover to order Escapologies Click on Cover to Order
A Brief/Infinite Summer Of Playing House
you ask me how I could just turn my heart off like that, like a thing with wings & fur, sideshow circus freak, no built-in egg timer. as if we weren't automatic machine slave to our circuitry: exquisite knot of wiring & meat & motherboard, all sagging light sulfuric pain to pinch the nerve. & why I can't just love you the way Cousteau loved his sea, Lennon his Yoko, Van Gogh his south of France. the way this poem cradles its words as rocking-horse children in the night while rubber bullets rain in through windows, pelting our soft bodies to sleep, machine-gunning our squishy heads. & how I could not decipher the hieroglyphs etched into your spine, the cartography of your burning church, your inverted steeple, plastic pews all out of row like exploded teeth. the choir of your tongue speaking sun-drenched song while I tap-dance underwater humming coral-jazz, scooping fistfuls of sand building pyramids for all those dead mermaids. let horses drag our bodies up & down the Icelandic wilderness, you say, just tell me why. there is a stampede of gazelle in your chest & you need to know the name of the lion, the shape of the wildfire, the sobering slash of the wind spreading flame through your fruitless reaping. you ask me how I could just turn my heart off like that, so I answer: everyone is hungry for something everyone is full. no matter how hard you squint those green lights are changing all the time. don't blame the car crash. Also available as ebook. Smashwords.com |
Sound Points by Andrew Jarvis
From Sound Points
Corn Rows Planted seeds in the rain, a rowing of plants that grow into great yellows and whites of branching corn cobs. Some will be ground. Some will be shucked. All will be crushed for cows, for cars, for cooks, the oils and kernels of life destalked. Try pulling an ear and roughing the row. See how it breaks the spine of the stalk, stopping the pace running to sky. Andrew Jarvis has published poems in Stylus at the University of Maryland, PennUnion at Johns Hopkins University, and The Federal Poet. He is a professional writer and editor, and he holds an M.A. in Writing (Poetry) from Johns Hopkins University. He has been an adjunct professor of English at the University of the District of Columbia. Andrew was born and raised in Seattle, Washington, and he now makes Arlington, Virginia, his home. Dark Stars click on cover to order
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This is a limited edition "star" book, featuring 11 poems by Elena Cisneros and 6 corresponding paintings by Susan Solomon. The book is designed to open to form a star. |
2012 Released Chapbooks
Sequences: Dark and Light Click on Cover to order
by Nolan Zavoral
Nolan Zavoral spent 25 years writing for newspapers. He quit to write the kind of poetry found in Sequences: Dark and Light. He has published two books, one of poetry, The Heretic Hotel, from the Laurel Poetry Collective, and one of nonfiction, A Season on the Mat (Dan Gable and the Pursuit of Perfection), from Simon & Schuster. Nolan lives in St. Paul, Minnesota. YOU POOR BABY (4) Don't bother turning it on. It's already on. It's always on. Take this blank sheet of paper and slide it behind the roller and turn this knob and scroll up the paper. Drop the bar over the paper. There: an 8 1/2 x11 screen-saver. Now, start keying in something — typing, we used to call it. Note the robust, affirmative thwack sound — first heard 140 years ago in Kleinsteuber's Machine Shop in Milwaukee, where Christopher Latham Sholes (Home-Row Sholes, as we call him) sat on a work bench before a contraption he and two friends had hammered and hair-pinned together, and tapped out "the quick brown fox," or its approximation. O, the beautiful, bountiful progeny! The first Underwood, heavy and black, reeking dependability, its strutting oval keys to become today's cuff links. And the sleeky, cheeky Blue Royal, with its rounded-off keys. And the first Corona, with a fold-away space lever, midwife of the prose of Pyle, of Hemingway. And look: I carried this green Olivetti Underwood — light as a postage stamp, tough as a sewer rat — to countless press boxes...but why go on? The IBM Selectric, with its evil silver tumor pivoting to slap print on the page, begot word processors, which begot computers. Computers! Let us bow toward the West and Bill Gates! Let us lose our files and our minds in our misguided march from machines that never, not once, forced us to do either. BIRDING
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By Lois Welshons
Poetry with illustrations by Eleazar Albin, Chester A Reed, Ernest Seton Thompson, and John J Audubon. Lois Welshons lives with her husband John in the St. Croix River valley, which abounds in birds. She sometimes thinks Emily Dickinson had it right when she said, I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven. Welshons’ book Where the Moon Is was published by Laurel Poetry Collective. Other work has appeared in Water-Stone. On Any Given Day
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by Yvette Nelson
Yvette Nelson was among the founding members of the Laurel Poetry Collective, where she published Once a World. Her work also appeared in the Collective's three chapbook anthologies and a book-length anthology, Body of Evidence, published by the collective. Her first book, We’ll Come When It Rains, won the New Rivers award for emerging poets. Other work has appeared in Water-Stone Review and the New Rivers anthology, Talking of Hands. She resides in Minneapolis where she keeps in touch with the prairie. an industry of yearning
A collection of poems by Robert Levy
from an industry of yearning A Capella In the manner of the chapel Watching my son and your daughter sing last night reminded me of that spare church where we spoke our vows so many years ago and of the ruined sacrament we made. All the sad duets we composed together in those tense years when neither faith nor forgiveness salvaged us from our graceless selves. What fraught music we made as, accompanied by doubt, we sang our dirge of denial. Listening last night to our children sing, I was caught in a net of glorious sound. In love again, briefly, with what we were at our best, when the music finished and the applause died down I was reminded of the silence that ensued between us in those waning years of dark fumblings. Last night was the coda of something sad and sweet, an apartness that can never be breached, and a strange affirmation. A capella: It means singing sans accompaniment, and over decades we have done just that. Sotto voce, unheard by each other as we navigated the remainder of our lives with desperate hymns, through disparate days, hearing our children sing our songs for us as they became our instruments of praise. The Journey Home
By Richard Walker
Five Stories
Short Fiction by Renee Beauregard Lute
From North Haven Island Matthew held the note between his thumbs and forefingers as though it might have broken. He walked it slowly into the kitchen, and set it down on the table. He thought for a very long time, and picked up his blue pen. I like reading what you write to me. I would like it if you kept writing. When we plant our dandelion field I will surprise you sometimes with a kiss and I will point out every butterfly in the field to watch you smile when you see them. - Matthew T. Oaken Five Stories is also available in ebook formats. Go to Smashwords.com for more information. Breaking Edges
Poems by Anita Endrezze
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Eighteen Poems To God and a Poem To Satan
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by Francine Marie Tolf
Francine Marie Tolf’s poems and essays have appeared in numerous journals. She has published three poetry chapbooks, two full-length collections (Rain, Lilies, Luck, North Star Press of St. Cloud and Prodigal, Pinyon Publishing) and a memoir (Joliet Girl, North Star Press of St. Cloud). Francine lives in Minneapolis. Visit her website at www.francinemarietolf.com. From Eighteen Poems to God and a Poem to Satan II The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. (Ps. 14:1) Trust me, you say, and I will feed you. Delight in me and I will give you your heart’s desires. How often have I knelt – prayed for a morsel – remained empty-handed. Disappointment hasn’t chiseled my words into blades. Still, I think Emily – that God-torn poet – and I could talk about you like old friends, laughing harshly enough to wipe away tears. The Second Book Of Pearl: THE CATS
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by Pearl Vork-Zambory
Pearl is a daily blogger at “Pearl, Why You Little…” where she reports on commuting via the city bus, corporate cubicle-ism, the abuse heaped upon her by her cats, and, infrequently, the state of her laundry. She was the recipient of a mentorship through Intermedia Arts in 2004 and has read and spoken at Metro State University, where her first chapbook I Was Raised to be A Lert has been used as a textbook. From THE CATS: Heeeere Kitty, Kitty, Kitty, Kitty People say to me, Pearl, they say, you're not really what I think of when I think of people who talk about their cats. You don’t have anything cat related on the walls, you don’t have any items of clothing with pictures of cats on them, you don’t dress said cats... That's not true, I say. I dress them. Just not against their will. Rockets and Blue Lights
Poems by Rhett Watts Rhett Watts has had poems appear in Spoon River Review, Sow’s Ear Poetry Review, Ekphrasis, the Cape Rock, Yankee, and other journals. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize in Poetry. Her work has been included in the books Knitting into the Mystery: A Guide to the Shawl-Knitting Ministry and The Best Spiritual Writing 2000. Rhett leads AWA (Amherst Writers and Artists) workshops in Connecticut, where she lives with her husband and cat. She received her MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She is particularly fascinated with the interplay between visual and written arts. Living is the Spin Cycle
Prose Poems by Howie Good RSVP I looked for the house while also trying to watch the road. The slower I drove, the harder it became. Up since sunrise, the bride was still combing her thinning brown hair. A guest had left a dead bird on the porch as a gift, curiously without any blood or marks of violence on it – nothing, the groom thought, a war can’t fix. Everyone felt exiled from everyone else, but the minister after a few drinks greeted each of us familiarly. He seemed surprised that this was all my arms could hold. Living is the Spin Cycle is also available in ebook format. Go to Smashwords.com for more information. Notes from the sad true Tales of J. Strait
XIII planes trick me at night I think they are sliding stars off to some planetary playground in the wake of the crescent moon I long for a fishing pole I blame my mother she made me love things like the moon Between Sunlight and Shade
Poems by Ted Hovey
from Ars Poetica Poetry brings joys and fears to light. In my eighth decade now, a life lived long, I want transparency to be my way. To tell my tales, to sing my songs; to show my happy days and darker nights -- all my joys and fears from yesterday. So I tip my hat to Poetry, for all that it can do -- to help me face life honestly, and see it all anew. For Her With No Regrets
by Duane Niatum
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