Sunday, May 30, 2010


Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Donal Mahoney

Someone to Talk to

Two evenings a week
I go to Melissa’s,
to talk and to fuck.

We talk first,
we fuck later.
Summer, fall,

winter, spring,
nothing distracts us.
We are to each other now

what we were at the start:
someone to talk to,
someone to fuck.

Tornadoes in the Parlor

Tornadoes in the parlor,
in the kitchen, in the bathroom, too,
churned every hour that Pa was home.
Sis could tell you more because
she'd help Ma board up the house
when I'd walk out the door
and ride my bike around the block.
If you find Sis today,
she’ll tell you funnels
tore the basement, too.
So what, you say?
Well, Dad’s been dead
for seven years and I know
Sis is somewhere.
She needs to know
good weather here
is still a squall.

Two Mutes in the Press Room

The two mutes we hired
to wheel hot type
are bickering again

Their fingers
quicker than beaks of cocks
tear the air

with perfect curses
tongues never utter
ears never hear


Donal Mahoney, a native of Chicago, lives in St. Louis, Missouri. He has worked as an editor for The Chicago Sun-Times, Loyola University Press and Washington University in St. Louis. He has had poems published in or accepted by The Wisconsin Review, The Kansas Quarterly, The South Carolina Review, The Beloit Poetry Journal, Commonweal, Public Republic (Bulgaria), Revival (Ireland), The Istanbul Literary Review (Turkey), Rusty Truck, Deuce Coupe, Opium Poetry 2.0, Asphodel Madness, Calliope Nerve, The Beatnik (U.K.), Pirene's Fountain (Australia) and other publications.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Sarah Ahmad

Glittering and a far

The leading stature of celebrity
dedicated to the morphing lights,
complete with a lot of action
exhibit elegant sighs
as the flight of a petty ball
messes up
the feigning
symphony of style.


Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Wayne Russell

on my way to you

and on this long and winding road
forlorn am i
thumb levelled in the racing vengeance of drunken night
hitch hiking in droll stopper

i can't wait to see her face
to embrace her soft slender frame
to kiss her rose petal mouth a flamed
in morning dew

and for now that is all i have to go on
thoughts of her ivory palace
warn asylum
raven haired goddess of my dreams

just making my way back to her in torrential rain
their is no love out here
in the black ink circumference of miserable earth

ties that bind
winding roads inclined
i await that mercy ride to you

Wayne Russell 2010 ©

Wayne Russell’s Bio

Wayne Russell is a native of Tampa, Florida, that now resides
in New Zealand with his wife of ten years and his two children.
Wayne has been writing poetry and being published
in various books, and Zines over the past few years including
Eviscerator Heaven, The Cannon's Mouth Cannon Poets Quarterly,
Iclement, Shoots & Vines, and Poet's Espresso Anthology Moon Mist Valley.

You can read more of Wayne's poetry at

Thursday, May 06, 2010

DURABLE GOODS (issues 15 and 16)

Durable Goods is a microzine. The whole thing can be held in a large hand (I tried). Each issue features three poets, one of whom is Aleathia Drehmer, the designer and editor of the zine. Which is fair enough: it's her project, and she sits perfectly well with the other poets, who are -- in these two -- Jim Knowles, Tammy Foster Brewer, Darci Morris and Howie Good.

I'm not terrifically active on the small press scene right now, living as I do in English seclusion, with my new love, and no money, writing my increasingly huge novel Penny's Farm (let's give it a plug), so those names may be newer to me than they are to you, dear reader. But each is a goodie, remarkably free of  banality, and a couple of the poems would grace any collection, so full of wit and striking images are they.

If you're interested in knowing more, go and have a look at the Durable Goods blog at . And do me a favour, tell 'em Junior sent you.