Bertram Allan Mullin – 1 poem 

You Validated Destiny through Happenstance

By Bertram Allan Mullin

 

A car crash in Houston

A violin song . . . dream:

Beelzebub stealin’ my soul

Bubble cage

Glorious shadow girl,

Glorious rock ‘n’ roll background

 

Awesome spin kick  

Abbadon scared away

by her might

Blast of sakura leaves

Escape from a dungeon,

embrace we did

 

Awake, I wrote you

actually, in my novels, a character:

became

Basically you:

Classic rock lovin’

Cool martial artist

 

Named for

none other than

  a violin player

  and I moved to Japan

You walked out from

yonder shadows post our embrace

 

Same name

Same loves

I became a first time believer in . . . that is

I saw validated destiny through happenstance

Overreacted, slightly: a letter a song

Obsession made you not crazy for me

 

Unbroken by choices I didn’t like

Up to God, my hands in the air

Three more times, you and I by chance

Then I saw . . . undreamed youthful reality

free will

free eyes

Request

   reiterated here

Get to know me

Go beyond the norm

It’ll be fun — otherwise,

 I’ll move on and forever wonder: why 

 

 

🍃

   

Bertram Allan Mullin or BAM’s work can be found here, there—many pieces being featured or contest winners. Some of his poetry can be found within Antiphon Poetry Magazine, the UK Online Archives, Silver Birch Press, With Painted Words, and Syzygy Poetry Journal where his piece, “X+Y=Z” won the Poetic Excellence Award. BAM teaches kids English and writes novels in Japan. Social media:www.bamwrites.com,facebook.com/bamwrites,twitter.com/bamwrites

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Cordelia Hanemann – 3 poems 

Song of the Fish

 

You should join me here. The cool

green deep of my underwater keep

holds me close. I circle the pier,

waiting for you. If only you’d look,

you’d see me, a silver of reflected light

among the currents of the lake.

 

I watch you fix your rig,

select the bait to hide the hook.

Your arc is pure from shore to lake

like a dancer in an arabesque.

 

You are such an artist.

I cannot resist.

I’ve seen this worm before—

my lips are shreds of broken skin;

gills, heart, organs torn;

still, I hunger, lunge, and swallow.

 

You pull me in;

pain never felt so good.

The gentle way you work the hook,

your hand so warm, so firm

on my naked skin: you hold me,

like a treasure.

It hardly hurts at all.

 

How could I know

you would slit me open,

eat my flesh,

spit out my bones?

 

 

 

🍃

   

Sometimes a small light makes

the dark more terrible.

 

Headlights show only the swath

of road yards out; they seem to make

the dark more real, the way less clear.

Shapes crowd-in like hunter-demons,

bearing arms to take us down, take

us back. The car is dumb and warm

and close. Highways hum along under

us, indifferent, but familiar tunes;

our ears fill with the weary whine of tires,

the drone of old stories. Home is the place

where the road ends, where the door beckons,

but for the wanderer, the road goes on

criss-crossing earth’s face in complex

geometries of loneliness.

  

 

🍃

 

Defunct Tractor

 

The night sky burns with stars, dead

a thousand years; the cistern beside

the house, boasts its haul of icy dread,

blackening in the broad-bellied barrel.

 

Abandoned to an open field, iron beast,

like a scarecrow stripped of human cloth,

angular and alone, bearing no one’s travail,

a skeletal silhouette indifferent to night frost,

 

stands, grim and unmoved, succumbing to rust,

its steely black stillness a reproach to all

that spreads out from its mute paralysis:

a landscape, sere, naked, without conscience.

 

In waning night, earth refrains from judgment,

proffers no solace, no absolution, no Truth. 

 

  

 🍃

 

 A resident of Raleigh, NC where Cordelia is a practicing artist and writer, she have taught in elementary and high school and been a university professor. A native of Southwest Louisiana, she has lived in Japan and London as well as in the US. Her work has appeared in numerous journals, among which areSouthwest Review, Mainstreet Rag, andThird Wednesday Magazine; anthologies, most recently, The Well-Versed Readerand Heron Clan IV; and in her own chapbook, Through a Glass Darkly. She was recently the featured poet for Negative Capability Press, and The Strand Project presented, this summer. a monologue she wrote for performance. She is also working on a first novel, about her roots in Cajun Louisiana.  

Sneha Subramanian Kanta – 1 poem 

Notes from a Vanity Van


I imagined a golden ray from the sun struck interiors

of the vehicle I rehearsed dialogues in while dark

 

shadows outlined reflections cast. A tinge of subtle

eye-shadow was smeared and rubbed, to underline

 

the rooms of conscience. Halfway through, brief

scriptures over the face of a lake summoned: it was

 

the moment to weep insanely, with thorough use of

propylene glycol. I laughed before drowsiness sunk

 

into figments of dust pores, visible through sunbeams.

The people — were talking and talking, hollowly, and

 

I retired into the little wood. I sat nearby at the foot of

a small hill, my white costume in speckles of damp soil.

 

A little dandelion I watched, disperse its wings as I looked

at my wrists — waited for a touch, and a gentle raindrop fell.

🍃

 

Sneha Subramanian Kanta straddles paths from linear and discursive lines. Ghettos, immigrants, nations, untold refugee tales, the manufacturing of otherness and writing from the margins are some subject matters of resonance. Her work is forthcoming in Fallujah Magazine, EPIZOOTICS, Erstwhile Magazine, Sahitya Akademi, Noble/ Gas Qtrly, Epigraph Magazine and the first print anthology of Peacock Journal. She is a GREAT scholarship awardee pursuing her second postgraduate degree in literature in the United Kingdom. Write to her on s.sneha01@yahoo.in 

Announcement – a Bindweed baby on the way!

This summer, Bindweed Magazine’s publishing schedule may be delayed as Editor-in-Chief, Leilanie Stewart and Editor’s Sahayak, Joseph Robert will be welcoming the bloom of a new Bindweed baby into the literary family. Nevertheless, we will endeavour to keep the vines of our family-run magazine flowering and balance parenthood with publishing! Delays may begin from July 1st onwards: we appreciate your patience in advance and wish to reassure you that Bindweed Magazine will continue to bloom ever forth on the convolvulus arvensis garden of life!

Leilanie Stewart and Joseph Robert 🍃