New Words and Images by Wayne H. W Wolfson

                                                Blue Absinthe 1 (Wash Pencil & Paper)                                                                                                


Blue Absinthe Parts 1 & 2

The waitress told me they were having a special for today on it. The cynic in me assumed that either no one was buying it and they were trying to bleed off their stock or that a vendor had given them some sample bottles for a trial run and they just wanted to get rid of it. I had my head down in "Toilers of the Sea" and so passively shrugged my shoulders. She lit a cigarette, her gaze traveling down the street looking for the cat whose territory this area was. The drinks came, it was really blue not the wraith like pastel blue as one would have supposed. I drank it anyways, it was a little sharper than the usual stuff, i popped peanuts from the little white bowl to counter act it. Finishing my drink at first I felt a coolness akin to when one steps outside on a cold winter night, then my body involuntarily shuddered...we were right down the street from home luckily...passing the Hemingway plaque I saluted it as I did when in a good mood. My shoes were cutting into my feet..my shirt was pulling tight across my back. Oddly I had to duck my head to get into the door which was not usually the case. I asked her to help me get my shoes off they were killing me with their tightness now. She laughed saying I was lazy as I had drunk much more than this before, I was just being dramatic. My body shuddered again...I got my clothes off just before my height shot up to what I estimated   to be between 12-15 feet. I was not used to the change in perspective nor the extra weight involved in my growth. "We have to cancel dinner..." The only thing that fit was my bathrobe and that covered nothing up, I kept knocking into furniture and bumping my head, I was becoming wound up like an animal from the wild who accidentally finds its way indoors. She petted my hand told me to calm down and suggested I just get into bed as I would be more comfortable and it was safer. I got in bed, she put some Jelly Roll on to further calm me. I was told;
"Ok now breathe in...breathe out...."
The panic stopped. Unless I was on my side or bent my knees I did not fit fully on the bed. The thought of the physical mechanics of us, with me in this state popped into my head. I said her name and was about to give her my look when a railroad spike went right into my forehead killing the mood and causing me to yelp. She said that she would make coffee and if that did not help she would run back to the cafe after to ask the waitress how long the effects lasted.
I drank the coffee which was too hot for my taste out of the little doll cup. I felt tired now.
"Want me to go?"
"You should run down and check, don't mess things up for me there, they just started pouring for me with a heavy hand and throwing free rounds my way, I do not need you ruining a hang out by breaking the waitress's heart. "
Where it not for the rest of the situation she would have pulled more of a face but right now things dipped in my favor on the scoreboard, there was always tomorrow though..

                                           Blue Absinthe 2 (Ink Brush Pen & Paper)                                                          

She said "Why did you drink it again, remember what happened last time?"
I was carefully trying to handle my Stravinsky record which had been reduced to the size of a game board piece. I pretended not to hear her but it was no good, I could feel her staring at me. I shrugged my shoulders.
"How much did you have?"
Before I could, she answered her own question.
"Obviously more, a lot more as you are even bigger than last time,,,,"
I told her I was going out, being careful not to step on the cat whose cries occurred at the same times every day making him a sort of neighborhood clock.


- Wayne H. W Wolfson 2013

www.waynewolfson.com

New Poetry by Phillip Ellis

Once on a Beach

Once, when I was writing with my fingertips
on a beachbroad slate of sand, I turned to look
to where my feet had marred, and I wondered, then,
whether the wind would easily erase them.

I wondered whether every trace of myself
would suffer the frottage that is erasure,
as the wind would rub away my feet's passage
between its fingers as if contemplating.

And the wind had whispered low, and the sand hissed
as the grains were sporadically hustled in,
and I turned away then, as if born fearful,
afraid to see mortality in the face.


- Phillip Ellis 2013

BIO: Phillip A. Ellis is a freelance critic, poet and scholar. His chapbooks, The Flayed Man, Symptoms Positive and Negative and Arkham Monologues, are available. He is working on a collection for Diminuendo Press. Another has been accepted by Hippocampus Press. He is the editor of Melaleuca. His website is at http://www.phillipaellis.com/

New Poetry by John Saunders

Somebody

(im Shane Dunne)

I am somebody,

or maybe not.

Free bird with the wrought of metal,

a stand-alone – rebellious.

This dislocation of time

against the sunset

throws me a life line

that helps me ride the plains –

identity unframed.

I find a bird grounded

by a broken wing,

cup it to my breast

until its strength is found,

then it flies into the sky,

calls to me from high.

- John Saunders  2013

John Saunders’ first collection ‘After the Accident’ was published in 2010 by Lapwing Press, Belfast. His poems have appeared in Revival, The Moth Magazine, Crannog, Prairie Schooner Literary Journal (Nebraska), Sharp Review, The Stony Thursday Book, Boyne Berries, The New Binary Press Anthology of Po etry, Volume 1, Riposte, and on line, The Smoking Poet, Minus Nine Squared, The First Cut, The Weary Blues, Burning Bush 2, Weekenders, Poetry Bus and poetry 24.  

New Poetry by Nathanael O'Reilly

Ode to a Coffee Pot

Ah, Bodum! For two decades

you have travelled across the seas

my constant portable companion

dwelt with me on three continents

and never ceased to provide

comfort when called upon

Together we crossed the Széchenyi

endured American autumns in exile

survived a London winter in poverty

enjoyed marvellous homecomings

 

I gently spoon freshly-ground

Colombian coffee into you

and fill you with boiling water

let you brew on your own

allow you to take your time

like a teenage girl smoking

on the front step

of a run-down milk bar

before pressing your plunger

slowly towards your base

Together we make lovely liquid

smooth as the fleece of a vicuña

let us continue collaborating

far into the future

I will continue to protect you

whether journeying

or staying home, dear Bodum

- Nathanael O'Reilly 2013

Nathanael O'Reilly is the author of Exploring Suburbia: The Suburbs in the Contemporary Australian Novel Poetry Reviews Editor for Transnational Literature President of the American Association of Australasian Literary Studies (AAALS).