Pens On Fire Archives

March 2007

Fiction:

Death and the Minstrel
by Tala Bar

Storming the Lone Star-chapter 8 (military fiction)
by Devil

Nonfiction:

Poetry:

"E-MAIL TO DAMNISO LOPEZ 23"
by Duane Locke

Tonight, the stars appear round
As apples that have sad stem,
Appear surrounded by the dark rags
That once were shirts, pants, dresses.
The now is yesterdays
With their flagellations of asceticism,
Rope tricks, charmed cobras,
And predicts tomorrow
To be of gagged songs
Carved into the flesh
Of the oak tree.
Our intimacy was isomorphic,
But we had different ancestors,
It became the parlance
Of the market place and cathedral.
It was both was a choir in a cloister
And the non-sequiturs of skeptics
Seeking to escape
The coercion of logic and law.
Our intimacy was words
That wore tuxedoes
And kissed the lipstick prints
On the rims of cocktail grasses.
The west wind blew the words
Across wilted winter grass
To the ashes under heretics’ stakes.
Should I believe a raven
Sleeps on my left shoulder.

"A Poem Of The Night"
by Michael Johnson

a poem
is a thought
of flowers
near frost,
dangling stiff
bitten by
the vampire of
late fall,
hanging desolate
near dusk
from a pot
on a patio porch-
with a yellow bulb
light beaming
conspicuously outward
over chilled
yellow green
glazed grass.
While my cat Nikki
hunches over a coffee,
table, toasty & warm,
nose pressed
super glue
to the window
on guard for
passing birds,
cars-
utility vans
with large bubble eyes.

"One Non Beauty"
by Majda Junicic

Dry lips
Ashen face
Sadness lurking from the eyes
Tweezers on the table
Mirror
I guess I wanted to be beautiful
Ugly soul
Twisted mind
To a beauty
Who will never be beautiful?

"Moon Watching"
by Greg Buddery

Too early to wake up.
A carpet coated in sugar dust:

Once, stood on the Alps
I could have held it in my palm.

Once, it glared as fog lights,
through smoke tinged skies.

Once, I looked,
found nothing but blackness.

But tonight, aligned, rotating,
it flashes, magnificent.

"Nightmare"
by Nirvan

Nightmare; like that of which you see in a movie-
Only worse; nothing that the media would allow the public to see-
Laughing faces with crimson eyes fixated in a cold, empty, almost dead stare-
The dark, empty silence of my room with the stereo playing as loud as I dare-
But silence is all I hear, the noise is pushed back as I concentrate on the scare-
The panic attack lasts for what seems like hours, though only 5 minutes has gone by-
The world seems to be against me, the clock seems to lie-
My pulse seems to quicken, wile inside I die-
But soon enough the sun is up, and I am awakened by its burning light-
Everything should be clear, but I still have blurry site-
Burning every pore, raising every hair-
Like in a dream; like in a nightmare-

Art:

Man and Boy
by Jeremiah Stansbury

Music:

"Far From Here (Don't Fear the Storm)"
by Nirvan

Love is an ocean, swarming with waves-
And we are but it’s sailing slaves-
But under the deck it’s nice and warm-
My Darling, please don't fear the storm-

Navigation can be hard when the clouds cover the stars-
And it’s hard to keep your balance when there’s rust on side bars-
It’s easy to get lost in the furious swarm-
My Darling, please don't fear the storm

CHORUS:

I've been sailing through this storm for years-
Pushing back all of the fears-
I've had my laughs and I've had my tears-
And land is still so far from here-
The harder we try the harder it gets to strife-
We're all out of food and barley alive-
It’s not a sail now, it’s a fight to survive-
And land is still so far from here-

END CHORUS

Vs. 2

We do the best that we can do-
We have no choice but to push through-
Though our moral sinks lower every day-
I have nothing of comfort to say-
But My Darling, please don't fear the storm-

Land is somewhere far away-
In this boat we must stay-
I'm sure we'll find it soon-
I'll find it using the stars and the moon-
So Darling, please don't fear the storm-

CHORUS

Vs. 3

Love is an ocean swarming with waves-
And we are but it’s sailing slaves-
The fire has died under the deck and in our souls-
Our spirits are low and our sails are tore-
Mutiny is imminent I'm sure-
The storm is in there heart and mind-
To leave my leadership behind-
My Darling, please don't fear the storm-

"When Did We Get Ill?"
by Kathryn Fischer

1
Imperfect, disjointed
She’s got angles on her face
Some are dark, angry, sordid
She can’t see straight in this place

CHORUS
When did we get ill? I ask.
When did we get ill?
After breakfast this the morning
or when we took the pill

When did we get ill? I ask.
When did we get ill?
It could be you, it could be me,
Or some girl you’ve never known

2
What authenticity is there
To this illness that I feel?
Was it yesterday together
when we watched that film?

when our fathers called us sluts?
Or gym teacher’s dirty laps?
when we were raped,
in high school drunken dates

CHORUS

3
was it merely last week
when our boss put his hands on us
but never listened
to a fucking word that we said?

Was it in-between tea time and
time for bed?
Was it when we began to bleed?
Was it a black hair on our breast?

CHORUS

4
I can’t remember what it’s like
not to be ill.
There must have been a start.
I said when did we get ill?

We vomit out the filth
for our whole lives.
Some can’t stomach a meal
without spewing it out.

Some of us won’t stomach a meal at all!

CHORUS

When our husbands beat us down?
Or was it in the womb,
when our fathers cheated
on our pregnant mothers

or was it our grandmothers?

I can’t remember what it’s like
not to be ill.
There must have been a start.
I said when did we get ill?

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