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Poetry 2 Spring 2012


Chinese Chimes: The Confession of A Calendar

            it all began with an animal race Emperor Jade called to amuse himself and his earthly subjects...

     by  Changming Yuan



yes, i admit betraying the cat as my only close friend

but i won the race, with my head rather than my legs



to honor my contract with the yellow sun

i eat green grass, yet give red meat to man



as the only feared king of the thick jungle

i am afraid and tired of my own timidness



with my cagey ears held so high

i will not miss a sound of peace



although my portraits hung lively above the clouds

no human eyes have ever seen my authentic being



the moment i sloughed off my old slim self

i forgot ever seducing any manhood in heaven



my body looks more masculine than a strong man

and my heart feels more feminine than a tender girl



when i bleat towards the passers-by

i never mean to speak in an other voice



each time i try to find any lice in the corner of my mind

i act like the humans outside the fence with barbed wire



with my wings plumed with the feathers of night

i can not fly but to crow loudly towards dawn



given my canine camaraderie and pack mentality

i feel at home before, among or behind soldiers



i spend all my lifetime wisely

to guard this single moment


Bio: Changming Yuan, 4-time Pushcart nominee and author of Chansons of a Chinaman, grew up in rural China and published several monographs before moving to Canada. With a PhD in English, Yuan teaches in Vancouver and has poetry appear in nearly 480 literary publications across 19 countries, including Asia Literary Review, Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Exquisite Corpse, London Magazine, Poetry Kanto, Salzburg Review, SAND and Taj Mahal Review. 




Neptune  and  Chiron  in  Pisces  With  Grace

     by  Kim Hazelwood


O, and the grace!... incoming, incoming,

Climb up from the foxhole

My illustrious friends!


I was asked to describe

The extraordinary alignment, (was it no longer a confinement?)

Of the exceptional mating in Pisces of Neptune and Chiron,


What seems to be happening feels like

A grand sweeping,

And then there’s my heart

Which feels big as the moon!


A vastness so immense,

Not nervous,

But strangely intense,

As if caffeine could breathe

While becoming ONE with TADA!


Edges embroidered

With a soft, post-bath luxury

On the skin,


Imagine this upon your soul-

Sweetened with something so completely





I took it upon myself to slay an internal dragon.

Tried to use a trick a guru taught me.

Coming up short, I  discarded this deed,

When all at once the handmaidens of hallucinations

Moved in.


Moved In!


Amazing Spirit!

Magically served up the heart-melting montage,

The exact images I needed to see!


Formally ego-driven challenges vanished,

No vacancy

                    Ripped Away..


One flip of the mind whip.

Reach out and take it.


We are in the process of massive healing

All starting with YOU.

Shackles off.

We’re buccaneers come to drink from the artesian waters,

Prospectors unearthing old cars on Mars.


Being brought to our best light,

Our planet, our souls,

Pain is purging,

True Light emerging

Ravishingly reflective.


Epic Illumination.



Home to the well of

The fullest smiling hearts.


And Baby,

We’re just getting started.


Bio: Kim (KD) Hazelwood is the editor of this litzine.This poem first appeared in Rick DiClemente's Starself newsletter.




    by Emanuelle Cartagena
A moment, a feeling, a shine of the glass,
A glaze, salivation, disparate thoughts,
A loss, a loss of self, a loss of feeling
Contrition sedates me.
Rays illicit shock, drain all ideas and touch.
This lack of feeling feels so good.
Now hollow, i am whole.
Bio:  Emanuelle is an aspiring, up-and-coming poet with a passion for words and how to use them. She has been writing for about 8 years now. She has also been published in Pigeon Bike poetry and online with Earthborne poetry.


   by Barbara Alfaro


“Home before dark,” our mother’s voice

trails after my brother and me like a kite tail

as we scamper to stickball. Sundown

happens too soon so we run to the blue

house as if our lives depend on time.

After supper, in the hallway, I hear

“She’s got to stop following me around”

and imagine his pals poking fun at

a skinny kid sister tagging along.


Today, I can’t help it; I’m happy.

God knows why.

I’m holding on to heaven.

If I let go, what’s there? Nothing

but memory and pain.

I confess I’ve been unfaithful

to my dreams and my stories,

leaving them alone and unwritten

in the distant shimmering house,

the house they burst forward from,

rushing and true. I have to keep writing.

That’s how it is, before dark…


Bio: Barbara Alfaro is the author of Mirror Talk: A Memoir, and a book of poems called First Kiss. Her poems have appeared in Poet Lore, WordWrights, Minimus, The Journal of Kentucky Studies, The Chesapeake Reader, and New Millennium Writings.