Literary

Sándor Kányádi/1929-2018

Hungarian-Romanian poet and iconic spokesman of Transylvania, Sándor Kányádi, dead at 89   by Paul Sohar Contributing Writer Sándor Kányádi (1929-2018) was born in a small Hungarian village in Transylvania, Romania, the son of a small farmer – more commonly called a...

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Gardner Dozois: In Memoriam, by Jack Dann

I don’t need to tell the reader that Gardner became one of the most important editors in the genre, as influential and essential to the mature state of science fiction as John W. Campbell was to its earlier formation. He was fine tuned to talent; he loved developing it in other writers; and that ability to nurture and develop so many writers, that ability to focus and shape the field…that was genius. Less known, sadly, is that he was a brilliant short story writer. The short form was his métier. Although he lamented that he wasn’t really comfortable with novel lengths, his oeuvre of what I think of as perfect short stories are second to none in or out of the genre. They are true expressions of the poetry that circulated through him like blood.

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Reme Terrelonge/Poetry

Songbird’s Strum Storm Anaphora happens at the beginning. Anaphora is a prelude. Anaphora has not started to move. Anaphora is shaky. Anaphora shines obliviously. Anaphora introduces it anew. It is the birth.   An enigma is contained by small spaces. An enigma crawls....

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Tongue-Threaded Shuttle/Book Review

Homo digitalis moves to the modern implementation of 1s and zeros to explain the contemporary means of communication and understanding. “The electronic web that connects/computers, ussers,/sounds, images, texts,/in all languages and fields of knowledge/has been called the Aleph,/the point that contains all the places of the world/seen from all angles/without superposition or transparency,/the sphere without a circumference/whose center is everywhere.” A no more beautiful or fitting description of what we might find in an afterlife that unites us with the universe (unless we’re already there), as that center moves from one place to another while always remaining at the center.

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The Second O of Sorrow/Review

  The Second O in Sorrow Format: Kindle Edition Size of the file: 552 KB Number of pages in the print edition: 104 pages Publisher: BOA Editions Ltd. (April 10, 2018) Sold by: Amazon Media EU S.à r.l. English language ASIN: B07BTDVZ84           The Second O in Sorrow...

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Vanishing Acts/Chapter One

                                                                          Vanishing Acts Chapter One – Buddy, 2011   "Chapter One -- Buddy, 2011, " is the first chapter in the latest book from Jaimee Wriston Colbert.   by Jaimee Wriston Colbert [dropcap...

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Carol Smallwood/Bill Luvaas Interview

Photo by Blake Wheeler on Unsplash   ***   Dancing the Writer's Two Step An Interview with Bill Luvaas   with Carol Smallwood Contributing Writer Welcome to Saint Angel  is the fourth novel of this multi-nominated novelist honored with such nominations as the National...

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ÁRPÁD  FARKAS/Poetry

Poems by ÁRPÁD  FARKAS Translated from the Hungarian by Paul Sohar   Let There be No Silence (Csak csend ne legyen) Let wispy little voices spring from blocks of dumbstruck dawns, let them flood the borders of glistening fields, let them ring out on the plates of...

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Arthur Shattuck O’Keefe/Fiction

He stopped, turned, and looked at Yugo. For the first time ever, he smiled; the very faintest trace of a smile. But neither mocking nor malicious, no. Yugo felt a sudden sense of kinship and empathy in this smile which both attracted and repelled him, and he knew in that moment that the man with the umbrella would not die today.

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Alice Mazzei

Black Rooms and Oracle Bones   Black rooms lie littered with bleached bones sterling white like plated silver tibia and fibia, Their dainty curves drawing the eye across them as a mathematician's compass draws truths In leaden lines on carbon paper negatives. The...

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Emily Stephenson/Poetry

Modern Family Poem The widened arms of the marina stretch below the fourth-story balcony. Briny winds waft into the open door, into the small apartment. She sleeps through the noon-bells, her nocturnal employment awaits. The atmosphere seems heavy and oppressive. It...

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Dorothy Zeisler, Poetry

  Works:   Mother monarch treads water, Floats gently, to pretend her feet touch the ocean floor, Her tired mind distributes a headache, pounding against her skull like waves. The ocean spray masks her strongest tears As she works to raise her own, up above the...

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Mario Moroni/Poetry

 *** Intermezzo by Mario Moroni     Recitare le ceneri Ciò che rimane del giorno, ciò che non si vede più o che è stato mal visto, quel giorno quando John Trevor era uscito in strada, scese le scale: “Cielo quasi blu dalle mille forme scure” aveva commentato, sguardo...

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Bill Yarrow/Poetry

RUN OF HUNTERS The leaking state. Comparative possum. The crushing sound of conjunction. Like eating a meal of attenuated steam. I am passionately committed to palisade market shares. Time is the bebop of the spheres. Your self insists you take inverted sides. What’s...

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Anum Kamran Sattar/Poetry

by Anum Kamran Sattar   Arrogance I wanted to participate in our class discussion on a scummy pond, so I said the water was not filled with bacteria, but some aquatic plant. But my professor dismissed my observation. He thought that nitrogen–containing waste from...

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William Crawford/Flash Fiction

  “It’s like a heat wave…”    A Kool, Kool Fool From The Rock ‘N Roll School Shares A Frigidaire Nightmare.   pulled into El Paso along about half past dead. The weathered wall thermometer hit 99 in the red!...

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Steve Dalachinsky/Poetry

the stone age   i’m lost - they’ve knocked me back to the stone age - this sick skin in a dream populated by science fiction literates - this terribly lonely dream populated by people into their own heads - gin drinkers & young girls sitting around 4 legged bathtubs...

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Adele Kenny/Poetry

2 Poems by Adele Kenny   Past the Waterline (After Lake with Dead Trees by Thomas Cole) This could be any day, anywhere—either one of us could be the other, momentary deer where the water ends and the forest begins. Whatever hard things we’ve seen—what we’ve fallen...

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Fiction/Leslie Brown

  WALKABOUT   by Leslie Brown In the summer of 1969 I told my mother II was going to sublet an apartment in the Cass Corridor. I’d always wanted to live near campus, and this was my last chance, my final quarter of graduate school at Wayne State University. Mama...

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Ken Wetherington/Fiction

One Night in Las Vegas   Jackson and I pushed our way through the crowded casino to the table where Marcos dealt blackjack.  We stood among the spectators, watching as his deck diminished.  When a dozen or so cards remained, he scooped up the discards and began to...

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