My life has changed. The narrative has been snatched from me, given over to a director whose promise of making my aesthetic more total has somehow convinced God to change the channel.
Tarkovsky is toying with me.
Long, quiet shots, darkness, filmic purgatory, a longing for one's home, endless images of gutted churches and dogs and factory ruins - and voices that claim life is a box of glass, nothing more, nor less.
Artifice - Daniel Y Harris
Shift the slit
to dull shades
the day after to merge
in topos of fierce
bond - slow the quickening,
the gray matter has color
and is still
artifice - the play
of the heart's dioptric - depth
to eyes that never age.
Bio: Daniel Y. Harris, M.Div., is Adjunct Faculty of Holocaust and Genocide Studies in the Department of Sociology at Sonoma State University. His poetry chapbook, Unio Mystica (2007), will be published by Cross-Cultural Communications. His recent publication credits include: The Pedestal Magazine, The Other Voices International Project, Exquisite Corpse, In Posse Review, Sein und Werden, and Poetry Magazine.com. The Jewish Community Library of San Francisco, Market Street Gallery and The Euphrat Museum, are among his art exhibition credits. His website is www.danielyharris.com
Bio: David Mclean has lived in sweden since 1987 and has worked there in a variety of jobs, studying philosophy to an MA in 1999. He has one child, born in brixton in 1986 and she is also resident in sweden. His favourite philosopher is (usually) sartre and his favourite poet is (usually) anne sexton.
Bio: Janie Hofmann is a writer from Vancouver, BC. She has worked on a farm, been a dishwasher and had about twenty other odd jobs. She likes it when things get a little surreal and eerie, and to experiment with prose and form poems. She has had poems published in Elimae, Cerebral Catalyst, Underground Voices, Southern Ocean Review, Southern Hum and has recently had a poem accepted by Tales from the Moonlit Path. She also has a short story in Static Movement and been accepted by Bewildering Stories.
your subjectivity - David Mclean
that furtive für sich
lovingly filling your fullness
to dreamed repletion
fulfilled with time's own owning, the sublime child
was always already only für etwas,
the missing signified under piles of present lies,
time's excrement we are,
a tardy supplement and complement to Nothing;
and it fell apart, like everything falls apart,
the delayed dream of that differant beginning
fucked, de jure, right from the start.
Halleluja in Paradise - Janie Hofmann
He awoke, in the alley next to the broken bottle that had been smashed across his head. The dawn, insipid in its freshness, rubbed the overcast underbelly of the sky, cupping the rows of ginseng like a greedy hat as his mind snapped and flexed like a crab claw. At the alley entrance, the vagrants milled, sexually obscure as seahorses. He remembered holding a wicker chair by the feet and a man yelling at him for turning Robert Louis Stevenson upside down. Bile flooded into his mouth and he suddenly thought of the inherent visciousness of the most beautiful birds. Some paradise, he thought.