July 2022 | visual art
Beach Legs
David A. Goodrum
David A. Goodrum lives in Corvallis, Oregon. His photography has been juried into many art festivals in cities such as St. Louis Missouri, Columbus and Cincinnati Ohio, Ann Arbor Michigan, Bloomington and Indianapolis Indiana, and Madison Wisconsin. His intent is to capture images that might instill in others – as they do for him as he makes them – a sense of calm and tranquility. He hopes to create a visual field that momentarily transports you away from hectic daily events and into a place that delights in an intimate view of the world. Additional work can be viewed at www.davidgoodrum.com and www.instagram.com/goodrum/.
July 2022 | poetry
yesterday was no sun
anywhere but everywhere I can’t
know only my ken my neighborhood
my house of cats and cashmere
pickled by moths
the little I see—
I can count the walls
and know I exist
but the sun never
asks about itself it is not a god
who depends on its people
not all seeing
objects are created equal
every day my skin
sees more than I do even muffled
in clothes its cameras see eye to eye
with the cat’s toes
my wet flesh envelope
posts itself on dog walks and sky chases
in city parks
I can’t vouch for you
my deep wide body you know more
than I do
What are you cooking in there
what conversation are you having
with the sun?
I tell your knuckles
to unbunch yet there you go
spending your skin on everyone
Mary Buchinger
Mary Buchinger is the author of five collections of poetry, including / klaʊdz / (Lily Poetry Review Books, 2021), e i n f ü h l u n g/in feeling (Main Street Rag, 2018), Aerialist (Gold Wake, 2015), and Navigating the Reach (Salmon Poetry, forthcoming). Her work has appeared in AGNI, Boston Globe, DIAGRAM, Gargoyle, Massachusetts Review, PANK, phoebe, Plume, Salamander, Queen Mob’s Teahouse, and elsewhere. She is president of the New England Poetry Club and professor of English and communication studies at MCPHS University in Boston. Website: www.marybuchinger.com.
July 2022 | poetry
Vomiting against the wind, hungover sacrosanct,
presenting itself through a badge of honour,
traipsing through the streets, a homely sight,
more surprises championed against growing up
sympathised through another disposition.
This goodly act, slighting for better entertainment,
what happens upstairs stays there, coffee aside,
working through swathes of imperfect manuscripts,
more worse then the other, never fathoming distance
infinite drafts slipping under scrutiny of same.
Close proximity, proposed even more attractive,
a steady kiss prolongs the desperate situation
being pawed for good measure, regretting at leisure
Hitting through secret apertures waiting for use
wanting what’s not on the table, a desire abdicated.
Watching from below, a closeted cry still heard
oscillating through indifference and agony,
monumental trademark as ubiquitous as the trees
lights not going out, under cover of alcohol,
solid flowers in lieu of half-arsed apologies.
No context for that smile, private jokes abiding,
grimacing from one’s own a fault worth permitting,
loved within measure still not enough,
infinite coffee, refills, riches worth pursuing
not uglified by persuasion, desired through want.
Patricia Walsh
Patricia Walsh was born and raised in the parish of Mourneabbey, Co Cork, Ireland. To date, she has published one novel, titled The Quest for Lost Eire, in 2014, and has published one collection of poetry, titled “Continuity Errors,” with Lapwing Publications in 2010. She has since been published in a variety of print and online journals. These include: The Lake; Seventh Quarry Press; Marble Journal; New Binary Press; Stanzas; Crossways; Ygdrasil; Seventh Quarry; The Fractured Nuance; Revival Magazine; Ink Sweat and Tears; Drunk Monkeys; Hesterglock Press; Linnet’s Wing, Narrator International, The Galway Review; Poethead and The Evening Echo. She has also published a novel, In The Days of Ford Cortina, in August 2021.
