- Barnacles by Samuel L. Rubinstein
- My Girlfriend Asks Me to Write About Pride by Julianna May
- I Settle in You by McKenna Graf
- Renaissance Needed: Poets Please Apply by Propaganda Poet
- Talking to Myself by Jon Lawrence
- The Summer They Killed the Spanish Poet by Ron Kolm
- What I Aspire To Be by Florence-Susanne Reppert
- Sun Poisoning by Magnus Mateo
- Milkweed & Alder by Frogg Corpse
- From the Window by Daulton Reppert
- Touching From a Distance by Jessica Ann Silva
E. Lynn Alexander is a writer, artist and long time organizer of poetry events and independent publishing, as well as organizing with the board of a local book festival. Her latest book of poetry, “Find Me in the Iris”, is available and she is currently working on new books and an anthology for Collapse Press which will be released this summer.
Each year I put together a curated issue. This is yet another of those issues. Here you will find poets and friends who are close to my heart as well as newer friends whose work I greatly admire. I typically try to draw one or two representatives from various writing communities across the U.S. and as such this issue spans New York, New Jersey, Kentucky, California and a few places in-between. This time, however, the majority of art and poetry I chose is drawn from my own little geographical region of the Lehigh Valley in Pennsylvania. And that’s okay. Home and community are an important part of any artist’s journey and I am unimaginably grateful for my poetry family both at home and away. Thank you to everyone who has contributed to this issue or any in the past, or who has supported this humble online mag. in any way. I appreciate each and every one of you.
Barnacles, are tiny crustaceans that build their shells onto undersea surfaces,
This can be:
rocks
ships
even giant blue whales.
They are harmless
most of the time.
However, sometimes barnacles
lodge themselves into the joints of lobsters or sea turtles.
As the barnacle grows
they prevent the joint from moving
Slowing,
Starving,
and eventually killing their host.
Some days I am the whale
unbothered and happy
Somedays I am the crab
suffocating in my own skin
But more often than not
I feel like the barnacle
just trying to survive,
growing in the weak points of other people’s lives.
I would be harmless if I wasn’t so out of place,
but I wedge myself in and if you let me grow,
I will only ever slow you down.take your ability to eat
and eventually starve you..
I am so afraid that one day you will notice and pull me loose.
Samuel L. Rubinstein is a writer and comedian from New Jersey. Often blending humor and poetry Sam writes on themes of growth, maturity, and mental health. Sam is known for touring with his one man shows since 2014. In 2019 Sam released his first children’s book “To the Spider in My House” Additionally Sam has toured with his multiple one man comedy shows. In 2022 Sam published his first full length collection of poetry “A Candle Regaining Strength.” In 2023 Sam followed up by a chapbook through Two Key Customs titled “Self Diagnosis.”
after seeing my mother’s facebook post:
“I will vote for the most pro-marriage candidate
because God is for marriage as defined in Genesis 2:24”
and I spiral
thinking about my existence
how you used to call me
your rainbow girl
dressed in one of every color
when I chose my clothes
you’d laugh looking at my mismatched
socks and patterns
now you don’t
believe in me
believe I should be allowed
down the aisle so if I do
you won’t attend
I think of how I used to sit
on your bed pulling at the white
down comforter like the corners of my mouth
a marionette for twenty years
strings around your middle fingers
still tied tight
you can’t understand why I cut them
why my mouth refuses to say god
without damn
if I am damned for love
why the hell not be proud
your rainbow child
Julianna May (she/her) is an ex-horse girl, ex-Christian, and ex-hetero. She loves teaching English and ranting about Shakespeare. She is the author of “Mother, May I”, her debut chapbook, and has previously been published in Crepe & Penn Magazine, Nightingale and Sparrow Magazine, Wingless Dreamer Anthology, and others. Instagram: juliannamaypoetry Twitter: JuliannaMay1216
I think I’d rather light my tears on fire
and burn myself in the process
then admit that I’m scared.
My throat is filled with cement
so I can only cough up
half finished sentences
but if I rip
out all my hair and
show you my brain (
Would my declarations read like drivel
Would my madness be too much?
)
But once “I miss you” settled inside my skin
something in me cracked
like a sinner in church
and I bled
ink on the page saying
everything that I’d been afraid to say.
Whispering secrets to the choir,
I laid on this church floor and warmed
the cold with my gushing heart. Antsy like
the night before I’d get to see your face,
I don’t crack
like the walls of this church,
but I let it crumble
all over
me
as if I did.
I settle in “I miss you” and I settle in you
and I’m waiting for the vines
that looped up from the garden
in my
heart
to let go
of my tongue so I can tell you
more words than a poem that’s missing
rhymes.
My words have been hidden (
in the
stubb-
ornly
still
lake
from fear of making
waves and
not doing it
right.
But I’ll let the tears
fall and
float in
the river
they create.
My strength in flames
will give me a light in the dark
and when I find you
in the trees
I’ll bend the
river like
a willow and we’ll
find each other amidst the fears and tears and
years will go by but I’ll always find us here.
So much saccharine lies in the thickness of the unknown
and I want to
wade through
the marshes
with you
as we discover
the joy in the constant change,
like the strands of your hair and the songs I like to play
McKenna Graf is a poet and filmmaker from New Jersey. She has been consistently writing poetry since high school and has taken several measures to hone her writing since then. She has attended the Great Books Online Fiction Workshop and Kenyon Young Writers Workshop. She has also self-published a poetry chapbook and has another one in development with Parisian Phoenix Publishing. She has several short films in progress on her Vimeo and is interested in the intersection between film and poetry. You can find out more on her website http://www.mckennagraf.com
What exactly is it that we’re doing here
These last few years should have
Taught us some important lessons
Instead we’re just using our opinions as weapons
While revolution becomes just an honorable mention
And the Great White Lie continues to arm with intention
Dark Ages II, coming soon to a reality show near you
Budget cuts continue gutting the poor
While avarice and gluttony cheer on for more
Perpetually cultivating this culture war
Hoping that we’ll ignore what’s actually amiss
Books are the enemy, knowledge is sin
Winning is everything; do anything to win
Silly zealots, look at the mess we’re still in
Don’t you know to beware what you wish
Dark Ages II, coming soon to a reality show near you
Renaissance or die to This Great White Lie
Should you choose ignorance over truth
It’s nothing new, it’s all happened before
We have already witnessed what’s in store
That’s why they keep banning you from
Learning anymore
Dark Ages II, coming soon to a reality show near you
PropagandaPoet (OsoLobo/Bear Wolf) is a Shawnee Gypsy Jew social justice humanist who is currently starting the fourth decade of his open mic world tour. He sees tattoos as physical manifestations of emotional scars and lost count of his somewhere around twenty or so. His publications and works include an array of poetry, music, performance and teaching at the collegiate level, including creating and curating the Hearing Marginalized Voices Through Poetry series and the First Annual Miramar College Poetry & Artfest. He has been accused of being a teacher, musician, writer, performer, spoken word slam artist and warrior poet, but in the end he explains himself to everyone and no one with this statement:
“This world makes no sense to me, so I make music and poetry.”
Somebody grab yellow tape.
I’m sneaking things in my pockets
like fidget spinners and stress balls.
I wear hats beneath my eyebrows
so I can only see feet.
Music sounds like shrieks.
Every face talks about me.
Restaurants harbor spies.
Don’t you already know that?
See them scribbling on napkins?
Medication won’t stop gabbing.
I’d rather not go for a walk.
I took off work because the students know too much.
They saw my notebook next to my bed
with an ink tornado of swear words.
No, the sun and wind aren’t good,
they’re moving.
I’m still hitting the rewind button.
That doesn’t happen to everyone.
I can’t watch tv without exploding.
My hands sweat through book bindings.
I go numb, then forget how to talk.
Jon Lawrence currently teaches high school English and Creative Writing in his hometown of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. He received an MFA in Creative Writing at the Maslow Family Graduate Program in Creative Writing at Wilkes University. His poetry and reviews have been published in Newfound, American Writers Review, The Bangalore Review, Moonstone Press, Rockvale Review, and Wild Roof Journal.
It’s the end of summer.
My mother avoids the windows
Of our suburban house.
She opens her purse and
Checks the contents,
Looking for Kleenex amid the
Clutter to blot her tears
Because she’s going
To visit the gypsies
Hoping they’ll hook her up
With her dead husband.
She kisses me goodbye, taking
One last look in her purse.
I look, too, and am astonished
To see a tiny tableau inside–
A perfectly proportioned Garcia
Lorca about to meet his end
At the hands of a miniature
Firing squad (tho’ how a kid
Like myself knows this, 1’ll
Never tell). My mother
Shuts her purse and leaves.
Ron Kolm is a contributing editor of Sensitive Skin. His books include A Change in the Weather, Welcome to the Barbecue and The Bookstore Book: A Memoir. He’s had work in The Brownstone Poets anthologies, The Opiate, Maintenant, Sparring with Beatnik Ghosts, NYC From the Inside and The Silver-Tongued Devil anthology. Ron’s papers are archived in the NYU Library.
I wanted to be kind,
like the dreamy glow of the summer sun flitting through the curtains of a perfectly golden Sunday afternoon.
I wanted to be gentle,
like the particles of dust settling,
dancing in the sunbeams surrounding our hair.
Or the softness in the crinkling of his eyes when he smiles at our cat yawning and lounging on our couch like he owns the damn place.
But I think at the end of the day, I wanted to be beautiful.
On display in a museum for all to admire, beautiful.
Fight until your last breath to keep me alive and near you, beautiful.
Hold onto every single word I say as if it were the last to ever leave my lips, beautiful.
Doodle my eyes and etch my mouth onto the corner of every paper you write, beautiful.
Obsessed over covering every inch of my body in hungry kisses,
as if my flesh touching you is the only sustenance you’d ever need and we have all the time in the world, beautiful.
The kind of pretty that emanates from the soul.
A kind,
gentle,
worthy of being loved,
beautiful.
Florence-Susanne Reppert is a non-binary Poet/Photographer from Allentown Pennsylvania. They are the EIC of Poetry as Promised Literary Magazine and co-host of Nowhere as Promised open mic as well as co-host of Noble Quills Open mic and Unraveled Conversations with other artists. They’ve been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net 2024. When they’re not working on 10 projects at once they’re dreaming of birds, Taco Bell, and perfect cinematic soundtracks.
Surrounded by those who feel like sunshine
Happiness tittering on every edge
And every curve
And every spot of skin
Every curbside ablaze
Your mindset brand new
You’re melting, my dear
Dripping on the summer beaten concrete
And there’s nowhere to hide
Nowhere to run from the wreckage
You bleed through the streets
Like a strawberry dipped ice cream cone
Left behind by childhood memories
They say you should stay in the sun more often
That you should feel happiness pour from your pores
In any given moment
So long as you stay out of the shadows
But your skin blisters
And your skin screams for relief
For a shaded alleyway that’s nowhere to be seen
– am I allergic to happiness?
Magnus Mateo (she/they) is a Lehigh Valley poet, performer, and event organizer. Their debut chapbook, She’s Jealous of my Purple Sky, is published by AlienBuddha Press, and also have several pieces published across various literary magazines, such as Mourning Routine and Psalms & Qualms published by Stick Figure Poetry. When she’s not writing or signing up for every open mic, she organizes and hosts Noble Quills in Easton, PA and IceHouse Literary Arts Committee in Bethlehem, PA.
Ov spindle clippings strung by fate
Dire hooves mark from a push engraved.
Sprawling flight, white corvid comes
From bastard heath with insightful watching.
The heart, the heart, the hearth, the bear,
The oak, the alder, the bark, the deer.
The loam, the berries, the elder, the cluster,
The bushel, the bale, the farmer, the warrior.
Battling through summer’s touch
Perched upon the fallen
Watching pistils stamped to dust,
Buried neck-deep in the pollens. . .
While consuming stamen,
A flourish awakens,
Third-eye pries on basement lines
Pushing pen from fungal enhancement.
Tyndall glances, late-nite ergot mottled,
Painting hues the world construes
A glass by which Bacchus bottled
Ov gaian vines: its first fruit pressed
Adding yeast to age — by sea and rest.
Another sip, ivory feathers talk,
A warning cry that danger approaches.
Frogg Corpse is a poet, vocalist, actor, and photographer from Louisville, Kentucky residing in Clarksville, Indiana. Frogg has written a plethora of poems whilst fronting metal bands around the Louisville area. Select highlights of a rich career in the arts include auditioning for American Idol and The Voice, providing a background role in The Hangover III, writing a guest blog for 48 Hour Books, performing spoken word with artist Suli Breaks, and reading with poet Brandon Leake from America’s Got Talent. From 2014-2016 & 2023 Frogg has performed at Gonzofest, a Louisville event celebrating the life and work of Gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson. Recently, Frogg’s poem “The Night Two Lovers Leapt” placed second in Louisville’s 2023 Literary edition of LEO Weekly. Frogg’s book “Poetry to Die By” with artwork by Russian artist Vitaly Ilyin is published by Cajun Mutt Press.
Window shopping
For the days we may regret missing.
Never being sure if we could wear it well.
Still,
we save up each toleration,
A coin to the turnstile,
For the day we open the door.
Crossing thresholds of where you were
Becomes
Here you are.
Inside,
you ask,
How much
for her smile,
A shine from the window?
How much
to look like the man
who looks like me
Only
happy to be?
How much do I have to give
before I have given?
How much must they take
before I am gone?
How much will I have to miss
Before I regret missing?
HOW MUCH
Is TOO MUCH?
And who gets to decide?
But the door revolves,
Did I even make it inside?
One day,
Maybe,
But for today
I’m just looking.
Daulton Reppert is a 27 year old casual poet who was born and raised in Allentown Pennsylvania. He is a co-founder of Poetry as Promised, Co-host of Nowhere as Promised open mic, and Co-host of Unraveled Conversations. All poems he writes are from his own personal experiences. When he’s not writing he’s working, or snuggling with his Cat/best friend.
A woman whispers her dream
to the bitter darkness
If only I were young
my heart would beat
like thunder in a forest
But no
Know
Deaths pale shadow
is like an echo of my own voice
howling from my crypt
I am still here
Laughing
dear I wait for you
The sky split open
but the rain never came.
Jessica Ann Silva is a photographer, a multi disciplined artist and writer from the Midwest. Her prose and poetry has appeared in two self published chapbooks Never Needed No One Anyway and Carbon Shank , Strange Bedfellows for Between Shadows Press, and several anthologies including Voices From The Fire for Dumpster Fire Press, Paper & Ink for Scumbag Press and Haikus, Nearkus, Fauxkus, Fuckyous for Between Shadows Press. Contact Jessica through her instagram @jshandofglory
stickfigurepoetry.com 