2011 One

2011  One

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XXVI.

Is there enough

negative space

surrounding this archetype

to bloom

fully

into

me?

John Sibley Williams 

John Sibley Williams is a poet and book publicist residing in Portland, OR. He has a previous MA in Writing and presently studies Book Publishing at Portland State University, where he serves as Acquisitions Manager of Ooligan Press and publicist for Three Muses Press. His poetry was nominated for the 2009 Pushcart Prize and won the 2011 Heart Poetry Award. His chapbooks include A Pure River (The Last Automat Press, 2010), Door, Door (Red Ochre Press, forthcoming), and The Art of Raining (The Knives Forks and Spoons Press, forthcoming). Some of his over 100 previous or upcoming publications include: The Evansville Review, RHINO, Rosebud, Ellipsis, Flint Hills Review, Poetry Quarterly, Euphony, Open Letters, Cadillac Cicatrix, Juked, The Journal, Hawaii Review, and Red Wheelbarrow.  

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i called you my butter cookie                        by cherry rao

i know them way back, packed
in the supermarket, stacks after stacks
labeled blue, each blue can
our big city's favourite, wrapped in red
spring's warmest gift.

it must have been your baby blues, or me
overwhelmed in a scent
so flattering, in a way
so sweet, it caters my court, 
your ship.

crunchy touches, sugar on top, taste
on my tongue, the best flavor
unlocked - the best thing i know from you country -
all these golden pieces of loveliness
sink in memories.

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My Love is in America

I cannot hold you, nor yet kiss you,

yet with your song

you have rendered my heart

incapable of hiding in the loneliness of the moon.

Whatever histories pass us by

(whatever tyrants shall rise and fall)

I will bring you my poems

with bread and flowers

and we will make our bed in the field of wheat.

Whatever Graces attest their favour

(whatever divinities shimmer in the night)

you will come to me, eternally,

yielding your body, your mouth to mine,

and I will yield my seed, the fruit of all my blood.

My love, I cannot live without you,

it would be Death

and Death is over there

beyond the joy of song, beyond the sightless stars.

                   Mark A. Murphy

The poet reports:  I was born in the UK in 1969. I studied philosophy as an under-graduate and poetry as a post-graduate. My first full length collection, Night Watch Man & Muse is pending from Salmon Poetry (Eire) early in 2012.

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Ships Asail

Three ships we saw, on the sea, and we did smile.

That we did them see.

Like birds, white wings, carried by the gale,

All on the dark sea.

Ships, filled with wonders, and crewed by gods,

We did await.

On the white sands, we gathered, to bid them welcome,

And open the gate.

Men encased in metal, with long knives bright,

Did stride ashore.

They did not smile, or join our feast,

What did they seek more?

Jerome Brooke