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Poetry 4 Fall 2014


Silk Poem 1

   by Joan Colby


In a conversation chiseled out of silk

We drink the milk of human kindness,

Then spit it out. The clout of old convention

Reins us in like heavy horses. O the watercourses

Run, the ancient mills turn and turn

And it is time itself we burn, the maple leaves

Embarrassed, fallen red as refugees from heaven.

Six or seven years have passed. Remember how we met

It was a Tuesday, wet, the sidewalks gleaming

As the lions before the institute stood dreaming

In their stone magnificence. Now we might wince

To think of how gingerly we kissed as the mist

Rose from the lake in gowns of women

Lost or drowned. This story goes around and around

Until the evidence is proved, the grave

Grooved in a prurience of desire that

Fulminates and lingers and expires.


Bio: Joan Colby is  widely published in journals including Poetry, Atlanta Review, GSU Review, Portland Review, South Dakota Review, The Spoon River Poetry Review, New York Quarterly, the new renaissance, Grand Street, Epoch, Mid-American Poetry Review, Prairie Schooner, Kansas Quarterly, The Hollins Critic, Minnesota Review, Western Humanities Review, College English, Another Chicago Magazine and others.

Awards include:  Illinois Arts Council Fellowship in Literature; Illinois Arts Council Literary Award, Stone County Award for Poetry, Rhino Poetry Award, the new renaissance Award for Poetry. Finalist in the 2007 GSU Poetry Contest. Honorable mention in the 2008   and 2010 James Hearst Poetry Contest(North American Review), Finalist in 2009 Margie Editor’s Choice Contest, Finalist in 2009 and 2012 Nimrod International Pablo Neruda Prize. 2013 Finalist in Atlanta Review International Poetry Contest. 2014 winner in Atlanta Review International Poetry Contest. Illinois Arts Council Literary Award 2007”Selected Poems” which contains poems from my previous books has been published by FutureCycle Press,. Selected Poem was the FutureCycle Poetry Book Prize winner for 2013. One of Colby’s poems is a winner of the 2014 Atlanta Review International Poetry Contest.


**Editor of Illinois Racing News for over 30 years, a monthly publication for the Illinois Thoroughbred Breeders and Owners Foundation, published by Midwest Outdoors LLC. She is also an associate editor of The Kentucky Review and FutureCycle Press. She lives with her husband and assorted animals on a small horse farm in Northern Illinois.



Peace is Bliss

  by Kim Hazelwood

( Presented at the 100,000 Poets for Change event in  Winchester, Va in September.)


Peace is Bliss is Bliss is Peace

Give me a piece of The Bliss of your kiss-


Dream, Peace , dream.


Real Peace with a plan is 

Peace  without  guns-

Plus  sweet Peace is possible

With  freshly warmed buns.


Peace is the valley

Peace is how green,

How Blue

How Silver, How Gold

The unseen

Swirling  and dancing into your very soul.


There’s Peace in knowing

That  just  down the street

We can all get along

In the night

In the heat

Peace starts within,

Breaks it all down

Peace amuses

Much like a clown.



For Peace-



How about

We  beef up our killer smiles and blow ‘em away with laughter.


Imagine a troop of soldiers with microphones and one liners.


Ten thousand Grouchos,

A militia of mustaches,

Pianos and Harps.

The Peace paratroopers,

Have landed with grenades full of zingers!

Blasted away,

Laughing so hard they collapse

Into  haystacks of hopeless hilarity,

Oh and what a rarity,

The rollicking  odyssey of warfare mongers,

Can’t have the last word,

For the most ridiculous thing

They’ve ever heard.


Ah..Peace is Bliss is Bliss is Peace.


Bio: Kim Hazelwood is the editor of this litzine and the author of CoyoteBat!.




     by Matt Roscoe
the roof split evenly
so that for a few nights
the moon danced directly
over our heads between
one and two fifteen but
after that just blackness
and maybe clouds or
an unknown star that
would hang suspended
for long sedating moments
when the rain came we danced
when the cold came we cried
i thought that if a tree grew just right
fast and strong it might fill that fracture
in the roof and allow us to live on as
if nothing had occurred
but there was no time and soon
nature decided to make our house
its home as it had been before
we arrived.
Bio:Roscoe Matthews is a former filmmaker, real estate broker and forklift operator. He currently paints and writes poetry. Matthews  received an MFA from New York University.
technodiction( or " a phone, a phone, My kingdom for a phone!")
		 by  C.V. Ellis

lol and omg _
my new phone
is so cool _ you se
that I have apps 
for every whim
i even take it
to the gym (do
facebook while
i’m getting slim!)

play candy hearts
save lives galore_
i pay my bills while
at the store _ my
newest app unlocks
the house (there’s even
one to find a spouse!)

it’s such a truly 
wondrous tool _  i
love to lounge out
by the pool _text
with friends surf
the net _ find new
shoes _ (i haven’t
purchased this pair

my friends lament 
it’s gone too far_ i
hit a squirrel while
in my car _ can’t see
the street while looking
down (they call me
“terror of the town”)
five tickets have been
writ so far _ they’re in
the glove box of my car
but i’m a little short of
cash (those officers are
all so rash!)

addictive? yes i
will admit that i
can’t get my fill of
it but when i pause
to ruminate on why
i love my phone i
realize i’m not alone
why, everyone’s
joined in the craze
(what did we do
before these days?)

there’s techno fever
in the air _ my god, it’s
nearly everywhere _ a
veritable pandemic _ yet
my passion’s quite polemic
i’d rather die than seek
a cure _ i’m sooo addicted
that’s for sure _ they’ll only
take my phone when they pry
it from my cold, dead hand
(you luddites just don’t

i’m a sucker for these
new devices _ my habit’s
now a minor crisis _ yet
quitting is no option _ i
simply must have more!been in line for days on
			end lusting for the new
release (until that sucker’s
in my grasp i’ll never know
			a minute’s peace!) 

Bio: Charles is a retired educator who graduated from San Diego State University. He prefers poetry that tells a story, poetry that is humorous and poetry that pays tribute to loved ones (dead or living). He loves all things literary except literary snobs; he's even uncomfortable writing about himself in the 3rd person. It has only been in the past few years that he felt that his work might be worthy of publishing. His work has appeared in epiphany and Leaves of Ink.