Weekly Write: “Predicated” by M. Eileen

Predicated

now I sit
with eyes on my wrists
thinking they’re real
thinking they’ll heal
protect and deflect all
ill will, thinking
they’re true, swallowing
pieces of light, staining my smile
and I have to fight battles
that are not easily won.
I fight. and I win.
repeat. repeat. repeat again.
and I do not rest.

so the words bursting from my mouth
volcanic with syllables
and traceable soundwaves
heavy vowels and consonants
slipped and hissed are
suitable signs of a life that’s alive
slightly displeased with boundaries.
blanched like a cloud,
stained with scars of blood vessels, ruptured,
raw my voice creases like
fistfuls of paper
I am swallowing sobs and
choking in the process
my timing precise
I don’t desire condolences while
wishing the guilty the worst

nothing protects against villainy
stomach revolts from hypocrisy

 

“Predicated” was previously published in S/tick.

M. Eileen writes near water. Her work has been featured in Hanging Loose, Monkeybicycle, and others. She can be found @m_e_g_writes.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

SwEP Mid-Month Review: the heart is a muscle

Review by Lizzie Waltner

Kat Heatherington’s poetry collection, the heart is a muscle, brings to light ideas of love that address all aspects of life in a powerful manner and has a deep connection to nature throughout. Her use of, or lack thereof, of capital letters throughout her collection gives the pieces a softness. There are no sharp edges in this collection, which makes it very comforting. These pieces are bright and playful but not downplay the serious issues that wring our hearts.

In her first section, a house by the river, Heatherington’s poem ‘planting poem’ we not only get a taste of spring, but also the touch of the past and endings. For example,

i need to plant more food this year, and less flowers,
but that thin pale green leaf lifts my heart,
and i pray for rain enough to give them all blossoms.
the cat’s grave, her small lilac,
is undisturbed and thriving.

In this small section we see her powerful use of the past contrasting with the present. It not only reflects on the past, the previous dirt being flower filled and a resting space for her cat, but also what it can become which is more sustainable and hearty for the soul, growing more food and the ability of there still being beauty in her memories of her cat that can be represented by the thriving lilac.

This idea of needing more food, could also be applied to more than just nutritional value, and how sometimes all we can do is hope to get through the next months. We all need a little rain sometimes.

The central section is aptly named, stunning transitional moments, as it is not only done stunningly, but addresses some of the toughest realities everyone learns as an adult. In ‘breathing room’ Heatherington tackles the idea of distance and leaving, and the complexity we all feel when walking away from something we love.

now we both have room to breath
and are using it to cry with.
now I can see your stormcloud eyes
filled with pain, and watching me walk away
and not feel all the wind in my sails
fly towards the storm in your heart.

The piece ends with ‘we are both standing’ and I think that hits home hard, because despite sometimes leaving being a difficult idea to grapple with it can have a positive ending, such as being able to stand on ones own.

The last section of this collection, the flammable heart, is admittedly my favorite. This entire section made my heart ache, but in the best way possible. My favorite piece in this section is, maybe. It’s simplicity about wishful thinking with the simple phrase ‘or maybe not’ got me every single time it’s used throughout this piece. This repetitive technique in this poem is repetition at its highest.

and you will visit now and then,
or maybe you won’t,
and i’ll love you anyway,
and send you postcards and text messages
about the rain and the corn and the sweet desert stars,

The way the poems presents this idea of unconditional love, despite being aware of things not working out makes it that much more heart-breaking. At the end of the day, there is always wishful thinking for love and always a realization, that maybe it won’t work out.

Overall, this collection really gets under your skin and claws itself in, sometimes making you feel warm and fuzzy, other times letting those emotions sting throughout. It makes you feel alongside the narrator and presents itself in a relatable manner and uses wonderful metaphors and similes to give visual representation to emotions. Kat Heatherington does a fantastic job in this collection, and anyone with a heart will adore it.

 

Click the image to order the heart is a muscle from Bookworks ABQ.


the heart is a muscle
by kat heatherington

Kat Heatherington is a queer ecofeminist poet, sometime artist, pagan, and organic gardener. She lives south of Albuquerque New Mexico, in Sunflower River intentional community with a varying number of other humans and cats. Kat’s work primarily addresses the interstices of human relationships and the natural world. She has one previous book, The Bones of This Land, published in 2017 by Swimming with Elephants Publications and available at Bookworks and Harvest Moon Books in Albuquerque, as well as on amazon.com. She can be found online at https://patreon.com/yarrowkat and on instagram at @sometimesaparticle. You can contact the author at yarrow@sunflowerriver.org.

Weekly Write: “From the Book of Tobin” by Maggie Hess

From the Book of Tobin

Not many know the comfort of a yellow lab,
though your soft ears are dust
passing over a waterfall,
I hold on.

Inspired by her transformational battle with schizoaffective disorder, Maggie Hess’s poetry has been widely read. Maggie won the Leidig Poetry Award judged by Linda Pastan and the May B Smith writing award.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “Brown’s Legacy” by Amoja Sumler

Brown’s Legacy

“Fouding Fathers” are the school lunch
today. The patriotism was a bit salty
but the homies were bred on fatback
so we just added hot sauce
and slurped it down anyway.
John took eight years of spoonfuls and walked away hungry
for the flash of the D-boys,
’cause they were ’bout dat ‘rithmetic,
and a little homie had to get paid. He lurks late.

The rest of us stayed
juxtaposed between firm expectations and indoctrination,
Between “I can not tell a lie”, and “I have a dream”
between uniform day and my brother’s passed down shoes.
High I.Q.’s mean little to attention starved kids on test day.
The homie Rob is an alarm startled eye. I am an empty belly.
Mike is field tripping acid,
We are a collective: failing.

Teacher does what she can
a mumble of breath & disappointment.
We bring her apples anyway,
(by way of confiscated smart phones).
The science lesson today was “matter”.

We learned.
We don’t.

A current resident of Washington, DC. Amoja Sumler is a nationally celebrated poet and social activist known for fusing the art of the intellectual into the familiar. As “The Mo-Man,” he has headlined spoken word festivals such as the Austin International Poetry Festival, the Bridgewater International Poetry Festival, Write NOLA in New Orleans and Rock the Republic in Texas. A member of Arts in Education rosters all over the South for over a decade has seen Amoja serve as a 5 time Poetry Out Loud final judge and an artist in residence to universities and literacy nonprofits across the country. Amoja has also presented at social advocacy conferences like Long Beach Indie Film Pedagogy Conference and Furious Flower as a panelist with The Watering Hole.

Currently pursuing an MFA at the University of Baltimore, he graduated from the University of Arkansas in Little Rock with a Bachelor of Arts in English/Creative Writing a William G. Coopers English Scholar and a Ronald McNair Fellow. H has dedicated himself to the concepts of knowledge, action, and voice.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

SwEP April 2020 Newsletter

New Releases

Due to the outbreak of COVID 19 and the closures it caused, our new releases of 2020 have yet to be celebrated and recognized. However, Swimming with Elephants Publications has created and released four titles since the beginning of the year. These four publications are available at all major book distributors but we encourage our audience to please consider picking up these new releases from the poet directly or an independent bookstore.

Awe
by Bill Nevins

This is a slender volume of poems of great depth. Nevins braids themes of loss, grief and rage about the senseless loss of beautiful young people (including his beloved son) in wars that never end; historical conquest and current betrayal of indigenous peoples in the Americas; and cruel policies that cause the death of children today in immigrant detention camps. Sweat lodge incantations tell ancient stories of immigration, land theft, and the greed that drives wars for natural resources, and the legacy of curses that follow in the form of natural disasters.

Irish history with its own long sorrows also threads through Nevins’ work with allusions to Yeats and poems printed in Irish. Like all poetry, these poems should be read aloud to reveal their internal rhymes and the cadence of old oration as the poet writes of universal themes. Quiet declarations of truth are woven through these poems that urge us to live safe in “shared loving energy,” as Nevins puts it, not afraid of anything at all.

“Awe” is essential reading for this time of great unknowing and uncertainty, when truly we can live only in the present. In the title poem, Nevins reminds us that all the past is in the here, in this now.

Review submitted by Mary Dudley 

The heart is a muscle
by kat heatherington

Kat Heatherington is a queer ecofeminist poet, sometime artist, pagan, and organic gardener. She lives south of Albuquerque New Mexico, in Sunflower River intentional community with a varying number of other humans and cats. Kat’s work primarily addresses the interstices of human relationships and the natural world. She has one previous book, The Bones of This Land, published in 2017 by Swimming with Elephants Publications and available at Bookworks and Harvest Moon Books in Albuquerque, as well as on amazon.com. She can be found online at https://patreon.com/yarrowkat and on instagram at @sometimesaparticle. You can contact the author at yarrow@sunflowerriver.org.

The Emigrant and other poems 

Though he lived only 38 years, Jan Slauerhoff (born in 1898 in Leeuwarden, the capitol of Friesland in The Netherlands, and died in 1936) is considered the only poete maudit of Holland in the 20th Century, a late Romantic poet influenced by Rimbaud, Verlaine, and Corbiere.

His first poem was published as a teenager in the communist magazine the Neeiuw Tijd. After university study of medicine in Amsterdam, he worked for the rest of his life as a ship’s doctor on different ships and therefore visited many different continents, including Asia, Africa and the Caribbean of the Americas.

His longing for the passionate love for a woman and his restlessness in being a wanderer at sea, with especial sympathy for the poor and the downtrodden, figure importantly in his poetry.

There’s a story doubtlessly true that toward the end of his life, he was on a boat in the China Sea where Chinese would row out to receive shots against typhoid and diphtheria from him. Two years before his death, his final book of poems, Soleares, was awarded the Van der Hoogt Prize in The Netherlands.

He was also the author of the romantic semi-documentary novel of the 16th century Portuguese poet Luis de Camoes with whom Slauerhoff deeply identified in The Forbidden Kingdom (1932), and Life on Earth (1934).

But it’s as a poet that Slauerhoff is most deeply remembered by the people of The Netherlands, for his embodiment of the themes of modern anxiety, and the home-away-from-home that his poems evoke. Indeed he was among the first European, African or American poets in the last century to write not simply of  but within the Orient, and many poems among the 31 here reflect that domain.

Querencia is a connection with land, and with water, which sustains life. It is a remembrance of one’s history; where one began. It calls upon a place of origin. Yet, it also transcends a want and desire for where our future will take us. Querencia is not grounded by the traditional concept of Aztlán, that of the U.S. Southwest. Rather, it follows the Latinx diaspora; wherever it lands, wherever it develops roots.This project builds upon the querencia developed from the historical knowledge and social factors regarding ethnic enclaves such as the immigrant neighborhood of Roosevelt Park along the Grandville Avenue “César E. Chávez Boulevard” Corridor in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Chicanos/as, exiled Cuban-Americans, Dominicans, and refugee Central Americans have reestablished their querencia in the Latinx diaspora within this barrio. Thus, Nuestros antepasados y la nueva generación en SW Michigan observes through photography and bilingual poetry how this West Michigan community represents its ‘latinidad’.

Current Events & Projects

Currently, all in person events are on hold until the stay at home order is lifted and events can be rescheduled, but there is still a lot going on in the poetry world.

Several of our poets have begun virtual Open Mics or virtual Poetry Slams, where work can still be shared. SaraEve Fermin has begun a group called: I need you so much closer: a virtual bi-monthly artist talkspace.  Kai Coggin has taken her Wednesday Night Poetry to the web and is hosting her show on April 1st (WNP Virtual Open Mic, Poetry Through the Pandemic). Zachary Kluckman and his Mindwell Poetry Team are also hosting a weekly Open Mic with a featured poet: The Poet Speaks: Open Mic & Featured Poet.

These are just a few of the many, many virtual shows which have popped up. A quick search of Facebook or Instagram should reveal several more events all over the world which you can participate in. (If you have a show, leave a link to it in the comments on this page to be shared).

Please support these poets and organizers by virtually attending or participating in their shows, purchasing their wares directly from them, and/or sharing the information with interested parties . Also, be willing to tip or donate a little extra to their cause.

Effects of COVID 19

As far as the current situation has affected Swimming with Elephants Publications, it should be noted that all of our upcoming publications and much of our advertising is currently on hold while we are out of the office.

We apologize for these delays and encourage our authors to continue to share their work and promote their publications in anyway that suits them at the moment, and, as always, let us know how we can help.

We have faith that once our offices reopen we will be able to tackle the already scheduled projects with little delay.  

What’s to Come

The ability to publish is a luxury which should not be the top priority of our society at the moment, but we do believe we will return to a place where a small press like ours has a purpose and a future.

Although we have no idea what the future holds for our small press, we have our fingers crossed that we will survive this difficult time and come out on the other side better than before.

We still have five upcoming publications scheduled, including the selected manuscripts from our 2019 Open Call and our Annual Anthology. We have extended our timeline for these publications and we appreciate the patience of our followers and poets.

You can continue to support us by supporting our poets and supporting independent bookstores.

 

Would you like to contribute to May’s Newsletter?

Send a message via the Contact Us option regarding upcoming events, projects, or any other poetry related information we might include in our monthly update.

Weekly Write: “The Cuff of That One Sweater” by Mycah Miller

The Cuff of That One Sweater

one day in our future I’ll paint for you in a room filled with more color than I can see right now and you’ll come in to greet me and after we’ve kissed hello we’ll realize I left paint on the collar of your favorite shirt and I’ll laugh and you’ll sigh and I’ll tell you not to worry because in all these long years I know now to paint only with that that can be washed away, I’ve learned now the importance of solubility because what good is love if it doesn’t teach you how some things need to be dissolved sometimes in order to savor the self-professed blessed and you’ll remind me of that one sweater that I have with paint on its wrist in an entirely different color than your new additions but you’ll call it the same anyway and remind me how you’ve learned that while you’ve loved this holy thing you’ve always seen how my ink bleeds seem to leave behind more than I think they will and this too, is a type of compromise.

 

Mycah Miller is a Santa Cruz, CA-based poet, artist, and student, and most recently was a member of the 2018 Legendary Collective Slam Team, the winners of the 2018 Southwest Shootout held in Albuquerque. She currently attends SJSU as an English major. She creates art as an escape from and commentary on the outside world in a continuous attempt to both understand and connect with others. Her poetry is done on whatever paper, napkin, or phone is closest, and her art is done with various materials in various places in various bursts of sudden inspiration. In her free time, she can be found not writing enough, drinking tea, and riding her motorcycle(s). Her work is a protest, a love letter, and a canvas she has weaved herself thoroughly into. She can be contacted through her facebook page “Mycah Miller Art,” Instagram @MycahMillerArt, or emailed at mycahmillerart@gmail.com.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “A Missing Love Letter” by Liza Wolff-Francis

A missing love letter

lost, hidden under a flower
when the moon was a mouthy
revolutionary, its paper unfolding

from yellow petals, its words,
a design meant only for you.
All of the cyclones of this life,

sharp curve hip of color and line.
The words we hear and don’t,
the sound, the noise, all of it

is the outbreath of the deflection
of the moon when it is full.
Its waves are the ways we call

each other, the footprints of stories,
drip paint scrawl, as if we try
to understand each other through love.

I loved you once
and as my letters to you were lost,
so were our moments.

 

 

Liza Wolff-Francis is a literary artist with an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Goddard College. She was co-director for the 2014 Austin International Poetry Festival and on the 2008 Albuquerque Poetry Slam Team. She has a poetry chapbook called Language of Crossing (SWEPublications).

 

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

SwEP Mid-Month Review

Into the Sunset

A Review of Courtney A. Butler’s Wild Horses
By Beau Williams

Like the name suggests, Wild Horses is the struggle of an unbridled soul ready to escape from the reins. Courtney A. Butler dissects the intricacies of a fierce heart under stress and scatters them through this collection in twenty-two poems.

This collection is a frustrated soul screaming from behind a crumbling barrier. In the book’s introductory poem, “Words, Like Meat,” the first line reads:

“I scrape words
like meat
from the inside of my ribs
They have hung there
clinging desperately to what
oxygen they could”

This line summarizes why this book exists. Butler portrays a person that has had this “meat”, these weighing parts of her that needed to be released, and Wild Horses is that release. Butler tackles the delicate topics of loss of a loved one, being the “other” girl, carrying secrets, searching for love, and (like true wild horses) learning to break free. This collection has the longing and reflection of Plath, the fierceness of Ke$ha, the nature influences of Wordsworth, with a hint of zany like Lewis Carroll.

This book has hidden its structure quite well. There are no full-stops, though there are commas, hyphens, italics, and capitalized letters to subliminally guide the reader’s eye through the pages. The lack of full-stops gives the book a sense of uncertainty that Butler carries with grace; a slight unease that really sets the tone ahead of time and prepares the reader for the topics soon to follow. There are no sections, no interludes, and no quotes, Butler just gets straight to it and gives you exactly what you came there for.

As previously mentioned, the introductory poem seems to be Butler giving herself permission to write the rest of the work; “Words, like Meat” is Butler strapping the bomb to the dam, once the switch is flipped, whatever has been pushing itself against the walls will finally be released, and it was.

After that, the book really dives into relationships between the subject and the people closest to them. The second poem: “DNR,” lays out the concept of the book. It is about a person who is trying to come to terms with a situation in a relationship that neither of the participants have any control over. This is a recurring theme throughout the book. In “DNR,” the topic is death. In later poems the topics are love, lust, miscommunication, and distance.

It can be argued that one of the most intimate, relatable, and touching poems in the collection is “The Importance of Being Broken (Or Sitting in a Bathtub with Your Clothes On and the Lights Off).” Here, Butler describes the deafening moment of collapse; the moment where all the stress and all the worry has finally become too much.

“because all the shit has been hitting all the fans”

This poem gets into the mind of a person who has reached a breaking point and literally crumples into a ball, fully clothed, in their bathtub with the lights off; contemplating turning the water on, the light on, removing their clothes, finding strength but ultimately doing none of these. The content of this poem is relatable to nearly everyone. Everyone has hit rock bottom. Everyone has given up hope. Everyone has crawled into an unlikely place in an awkward fashion in search of any sort of comfort. Butler doesn’t sugarcoat anything about this mental state.

“Maybe you were pushed off that cliff
Maybe it was your fault
or maybe you got caught in the landslide
The reality is
everything you were was on that cliff
and now everything you are is
broken in a bathtub?”

Though raw and heavy, Butler ends the poem on a strong note; describing how, at the end of this, you will start to mold your new shape together like a carved bar of soap — highlighting the brand new you that will finally be able to stand up and turn on the light.

Butler also has a fun, cutesy side which is apparent in her poem “The Long Slow Huzzah! (or Tea Time Going Over a Cliff).” This one has a very surreal feel, like Salvador Dali meets Alice in Wonderland. In this poem, the author describes falling in love as a metaphor for having a tea party… while tumbling off a cliff.

“Pale yellow tablecloth rippling in the breeze
taking all the fine china with it (…)
Well then, I’ve gone and fallen in love with you ”

This might be the most animated piece in the collection. Short and sweet, “The Long Huzzah!” is quaint and joyful, with underlying tones of terror. There is no mention of fear, no imminent crash to end the plummet, just weightlessness. The mention of a cliff face insinuates it is connected to a ground and with no mention of the ground throughout the poem or plans to get out of this situation, one can only assume the postscript is bloody and riddled with shattered porcelain.

Wild Horses is a solid collection that would find home on the bookshelves of the strong-of-heart. “Closer to One” is one of the last poems in the book and sums up the target audience very well. Here, the subject considers themself as two people: the untamed animal in a cage, and the caregiver.

“Yes! I say, finally
Yes to your thirst
Yes a thousand times
to the nectar you crave (…)
You are right to thirst
and I will answer you”

This book is for any static heart who has ever felt tied down or unheard. This book is for the wild of spirit; for anyone who has needed to scream and doesn’t have the haven. Wild Horses lets you know that you are never alone in these places, and that others have been where you’ve been and (like you) survived to ride free.

Click here to help support Independent Bookstores during this time of social isolation by purchasing Wild Horses from Bookworks Albuquerque. 

 

Review by Beau Williams:

Beau Williams is a fairly optimistic poet based out of Portland Maine. He co-runs a weekly poetry class at Sweetser Academy and facilitates workshops at high schools and colleges around the New England area. His work has been published in numerous poetry websites and journals.

Beau has performed internationally and nationally both as a solo artist and with the performance poetry collectives Uncomfortable Laughter and GUYSLIKEYOU. He was the Grand Slam Champion at Port Veritas in 2014 and was the Artist in Residence at Burren College in Ballyvaughan, Ireland in January of 2017. Beau’s book, Rumham, is available for purchase on Amazon.com.

Weekly Write: “Bloodletting” by Rene Mullen

Bloodletting

When someone bleeds
the brakes of a car, nobody asks
“What’d you do to your arm?”

When a levy is drained
to keep the floods from destroying
that which it protects, nobody
says, “Hey, you know that ain’t healthy.
That ain’t natural.”

Painting on your body is both beautiful
and telling.

When I see a new tattoo
I praise the artist savior
keeping dams from giving in.
I thank the still breathing canvas
for allowing the pressure
to be bled out.

I thank my lucky stars
at least one more canvas
knows there’s a difference
between drawing out dark pigments
and tearing the canvas apart.

Rene Mullen is managing editor for a public relations company in Albuquerque, a performance and traditional poet, and a mental health advocate. Mullen is also one of two 2018 Albuquerque Slam Champions and member of three slam teams that have been on multiple regional and national stages. Their poetry and fiction has been featured in Peachfish Magazine, Poetry Quarterly, 50 Haikus, and Stronger Than Stigma: Poetry from the 2019 Mindwell Poetry Slam Team. Their poetry focuses primarily on mental health and family.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “Stroke” by Robin Scofield

Stroke

The last night he was marked
as a whole self, Jackie spent drinking,
smoking, and looking splendid.

But within the body, an occult signifier—
a bolt of electricity—arced across his brain,
and no one could sense the cerebral infarction.

They were out drinking as usual. He slurred
his words as usual, releasing the usual
university 101 liberal arts professor repartée

while mute blood vessels in his right
brain hollowed. The empty spaces struck
him down as though a lion

had stroked his cheek. One half of his face
stricken. His sleep was stuporous.
Neither thrombosis in the Circle of Willis

nor vascular constriction was visible,
but the lack of signal stood out the next morning
when he tried to stand up and hit the floor instead.

The half-self left to him he could not bear.
Stage left lost in his tangled neurons.
What signs he painted on his body

that last day, I have no right to know.
He died on Yom Kippur, his final atonement.
With his good right hand, he wanted to unseal

all vessels and veins to picture his defeat
on the wall that must be painted over
one too many times.

Robin Scofield, author of Flow (Street of Trees Projects), winner of the Southwest Book Award from the Border Regional Library Association, has poems appearing in Ponder Review, The Main Street Rag, and Mocking Heart Review. She writes with the Tumblewords Project in El Paso and attends the San Miguel Poetry Week.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

News from Swimming with Elephants Publications

Hello!

I am sure I do not need to say that today has found us in very strange times.

Because of social distancing, shut downs, and quarantine, small businesses and performers are being hit  in a big way. We at SwEP want to take a moment to  encourage everyone to keep poetry circulating by purchasing books directly from Independent Bookstores and Individual Poets.

Several of our poets have begun virtual Open Mics or virtual Poetry Slams, where work can still be shared. SaraEve Fermin has begun a group called: I need you so much closer: a virtual bi-monthly artist talkspace.  Kai Coggin has taken her Wednesday Night Poetry to the web and is hosting her show on April 1st (WNP Virtual Open Mic, Poetry Through the Pandemic). Zachary Kluckman and his Mindwell Poetry Team are also hosting a weekly Open Mic with a featured poet: The Poet Speaks: Open Mic & Featured Poet.

These are just a few of the many, many virtual shows which have popped up. A quick search of Facebook or Instagram should reveal several more events all over the world which you can participate in. (If you have a show, leave a link to it in the comments on this page to be shared).

Please support these poets and organizers by virtually attending or participating in their shows, purchasing their wares directly from them, and/or sharing the information with interested parties . Also, be willing to tip or donate a little extra to their cause.

Bookworks, our official affiliate out of Albuquerque, may have it’s doors closed, but it is still open for online orders and still has many SwEP titles on their shelves. You may also consider supporting them by purchasing a gift certificate or purchasing a book for as a gift. There are plenty of people in their homes who would love a surprise book delivered to their door.

As far as the current situation has affected Swimming with Elephants Publications, it should be noted that all of our upcoming publications and much of our advertising is currently on hold while we are out of the office. We do have five publications scheduled for release this year (an anthology out of Denver, our three chapbook winners, and our yearly anthology). We also have several new releases which we have yet to be announce due to the cancellation of their release events. We apologize for these delays and encourage our authors to continue to share their work and promote their publications in anyway that suits them at the moment, and, as always, let us know how we can help.

We have faith that once our offices reopen we will be able to tackle these projects with little delay.  

Although we have no idea what the future holds for our small press, we have our fingers crossed that we will survive this difficult time and come out on the other side better than before. You can continue to support us by supporting our poets and supporting independent bookstores.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Katrina Crespin & Maxine Peseke

 

Weekly Write: “Red Mist” by Scott Wiggerman

Red Mist

Home is but a footprint
hardened deep in his heart.
Not a word from family
since he left Georgia for Texas
two decades ago as a teen,
not a chance he’ll seek them out—
pride tenacious as nutmeat to a shell;
his disease, the stain on the fingers.

Some nights his ache for love
is so labored, he wakes
with blood on his tongue,
a sour excretion on the sheets.
He lies for hours in moonlight,
a barren stretch of rock,
watching clouds murk away the glow.

Mornings, with arms
that can barely lift his torso,
with legs unsteady without a cane,
he stumbles to the bathroom
and slouches naked before a mirror.
Though the flesh is sexless,
a patchwork of sags and sores,
he puckers his lips
like a grand Southern belle,
stares disaster in the face,
and reaches for his favorite lipstick.

 

Scott Wiggerman is author of three books of poetry, Leaf and Beak: Sonnets (finalist for the Texas Institute of Letters’ Helen C. Smith Memorial Award), Presence, and Vegetables and Other Relationships; and editor of several volumes, including the best-selling Wingbeats: Exercises & Practice in Poetry (I & II) and three anthologies of Southwestern poetry, most recently, Weaving the Terrain.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “49 years of bargaining” by Scott Ferry

49 years of bargaining

8: I don’t believe in Santa Claus anymore, so why
should I believe in you? Old man with a white beard
holding a stick. One has a red coat, one has a golden coat.
I know my dad doesn’t think you are real.
Are you also the God of aliens? Of dolphins?

12: I will have better luck in a swim race if I do good things,
like pick up gum wrappers, discarded A & W cans
on the pool deck before the race. I don’t care
if people think I am weird if it makes me go faster.
God, that race did not feel different, it felt terrible.
I did those things and I didn’t better my time. Where did I get
the idea that God rewards good deeds? I’m never doing that again.

17: There has to be something more
than just praying to get things. Everyone
is so focused on their chicken sandwiches, or their car’s new rims,
or their Ivy Leagues. I am rarely lucky and I have to grind
my ass off in the pool to get a scholarship and maintain a 4.0
and try to ask out Katy but I know she doesn’t like me
because I look like I am 14. I roll the rock up…

18: The sky is clicking and the incense tastes
like lemon lavender and the asphalt ripples under my legs.
How do I speak with this LSD silvering my sinuses?
When do the doors open to see the Grateful Dead?
The sky blooms inside veins and cherry stems pulse.
Someone looks at me and she looks like God with echo pupils.
I was wrong. Every molecule springs with words.

21: I can’t have a baby now. Please, whatever Old Man
with whatever robe. Forgive me. I am going to ask her to end it.
I will have to find money. She cries, I harden and dry in the parking lot
next to her car. I know people do this. I never thought I would be one.
Now I have something to cut off my body to repay.
I bury my reasons for praying. I promise nothing.
I blame and remember, even though I leave myself for a while.

24: Father, you are going. Where? I saw you deflate
as I gripped your shoulder. Your presence around me
deafens the blinking machines and crow-call alarms.
Let him go, nurses. Let him go to wherever he is going.
He rejoins where nothing can be broken.

28: I have tried to open every image for my students
by reading novels out loud, by using all of my light
to shine out until, Lord, my liver and lungs and kidneys
lie empty as damp shells and my hands shake.
This is not why I came here, is it?

35: My wife cheated on me
and I have been a good husband and she loves someone else.
God damn you! Why did I love and waste years?
We did laugh but she never wanted to have sex.
Why didn’t I realize? Why, God, did I have to witness
every vow starve on the ends of wires?

36: This glowing girl? She is interested in me?
The starlings bring each crushed bit of wing into
a bright body, three hundred birds turn in unison
over the rocks of the jetty at Westport,
our feet red and brown in the evening sun.

41: Nausea and waking to a well
that bounds with heartbeats. If this anxiety persists,
I don’t know if it is feasible to continue.
Why did you place me in this terrible workplace?
Do I believe in you enough to blame you?
I cannot reason with the howling and thrashing. I cannot eat.
This is the only time I don’t want to live.
And every morning I wake again.

42: My daughter, pink twisted scream of glass
coming out of her uterus and into our hands.
Thank you, God. I can’t swallow all the passion.
Our boat tips in the swell, tears and milk pour off the deck.
I forgive by virtue of drowning.

45: The screen cracks because of my addiction.
All lies open and darken our new house,
the windows full of flies, the basement and attic
full of rats chewing on our bonds like spies.

46: I will clean and promise again.
Salt into gums, rat feces under nails.
Years of telling the real truth
and tearing the groin from its fixations.
My love, my God, all the soiled covers come off the words.
I did this myself, God. Don’t take credit.

49: Pregnant again?
I don’t know whether to curse you or praise you
for delivering on our wishes so quickly.
Please God, let the child be healthy and whole.
I won’t tell you what I am willing to sacrifice to make that so.
You might just demand it.

 

Scott Ferry helps our Veterans heal as an RN. He has recent work in Cultural Weekly, KYSO Flash, Slippery Elm, Prometheus Dreaming, and many others. He was a finalist in the Write Bloody Chapbook Contest in 2019. His first collection The only thing that makes sense is to grow comes out in January 2020 from Moon Tide Press.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “The Dimensions of Your Soul” by Gary Beaumier

The Dimensions of Your Soul

Your body ate itself in your final days
temples hollowed as
food diverted to your lungs
the doctor said it’s like drowning
–shallow panicked breaths–
morphine pumps to soothe your passage
administered by your children
I kissed your forehead
and told you I loved you
hoping it would get past the drug haze
so you’d take my feeble expression
with you

Then I drove to open spaces
and followed a braiding of clouds
at the far edge of the lake
that made me think of your spine
when I washed your back a week before
each knot of clouds
your vertebrae
I watched you join the sweep of sky
as it made its procession North
to a dark unpeopled land
elk herds migrating across starlit tundra
and you there in all of it
I spoke to the moon that took your face
and the constellations that outlined you
and this time I felt like you could hear me…

 

Gary Beaumier has a degree in English Literature from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. He has been a finalist for the Luminaire Award for his poem titled “Ten Cents” as well as the Joy Bale Boone Award for his poem “The Migratory Habits of Dreams in Late Autumn”. His chapbook “From My Family to Yours” has been published by Finishing Line Press. His poem “The Rio Grande” was nominated for the “Best of the Net” award and he won first prize for Streetlight Magazine for his poem “Night Train to Paris.” He was a finalist for the New Millenium Writings for his poem “From Certain Distances in Space I Still See My Brother”. He was recently shortlisted for the Charles Bukowski contest from Raw Arts Review for his poem “Ghosting”. He has been a teacher, a bookstore manager and a gandydancer for one summer a long time ago. He used to build wooden sailboats.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “Adrift” by Gina Marselle

Adrift

I lost a world the other day.
Has anybody found?
You’ll know it by the row of stars
Around its forehead bound.
—Emily Dickonson

an entire moon cycle of loneliness
colliding in quiet array.
Standing here, inside an art gallery—
in a room, full of people—
she’s holding a cup of ginger tea,
a page of poetry.

She looks brave.

She’s in a box
trapped
inside a midnight sky without stars.

Over there—
a lone cottonwood stands
on the banks of the Rio Grande.
It looks strong, capable of holding common ravens
or shading a weary runner.
But if you touched it, it is hollow inside.

How can one explain
loneliness
to someone who has never felt alone?

You can’t, it’s one of those things that
can’t be explained.
When wrapped in anxiety
or depression
or anything, categorically.

There isn’t anything more sad
than in bed with a pristine white,
goose down comforter over her head
imaging her coffin nailed shut.

NPR’s headlines don’t help.
The divide of the country doesn’t help.
The lost souls of immigration don’t help.
Her husband fighting alcoholism doesn’t help.
You’d never know the sadness
felt inside her battle.
Unless she wrote about it
and read it out loud.
Allowed the words
to blast the page.

But only if she does that.
She’s vulnerable, alone on a stage.

an entire moon cycle of loneliness
colliding in quiet array.
Standing here, inside an art gallery—
in a room, full of people.
She’s holding a cup of ginger tea,
a page of poetry.

She is brave.

Gina Marselle resides in New Mexico with her husband and children. She is a teacher, poet, and photographer who happily owns a rescue horse and dog. She has published a number of poems and photographs in many local anthologies and has a full length published book titled, A Fire of Prayer: A Collection of Poetry and Photography (Swimming with Elephants Publications, 2015). Please find more information about Gina’s work from her publisher at https://swimmingwithelephants.com/ and/or follow her on Instagram @gigirebel.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “this bird” by Katrina K Guarascio

this bird

never learned to nest
allowed feathers to fall
without a thought to
where they may land

I too
am on the wing
telling stories of lives
I could never take apart

this bird breaks to pieces
part of the puzzle that
wedged creation together

this birdsong
sweet as time
reaches never touches

where should I muck to
if not back into myself

too many nests
not enough places
to sit and stir

a myth is true only when
it is sung on morning’s breath

let the ink be ink
the guitar be guitar

let song be song

 

Katrina K Guarascio is an educator, writer, publisher, and community organizer. 

A lifelong writer, she has been published in various ezines, magazines, and anthologies. She also spent time on the performance stage, touring across the country in 2011 and participating in NPS in 2015, before hanging up her microphone. She is the author of two chapbook collections, two out of print collections, and three current books through Swimming with Elephants Publications, LLC.

Katrina K Guarascio lives gratefully and happily in New Mexico with the love of her life. She continues to write, perform, and publish her own writing on the website Flower and Sun.

    “Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology. Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “Seed Memory” by Liza Wolff-Francis

Seed Memory

“The future of food must be reclaimed by women.”
Vandana Shiva

Most farmers in India are women,
wrapped in wheat-soaked
pink and yellow under
the dome of cerulean sky.
Spiced recipe, a moonlit field
growing thousands
of women who will harvest
cycles of hunger.

Stale breadcrumbs scattered,
high-priced seeds pressed
into palms, the scratch
of their patent like an allergy.
The threat of death in the dirt
under fingernails at sunset,
labor’s brief hiatus.

When the memory of a seed
no longer recognizes itself
in the till of the crop, in bent
backs, calloused hands,
the dance of sun and rain
and careful tender of land,
a woman’s freedom
has already been
bought and sold.
This, they say, is all
in the cost
of going forward.

Mornings await,
heat heavy in the soil,
in the thunderous
voices waiting to hatch.
Hold on to the seeds.

 

Liza Wolff-Francis is a literary artist with an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Goddard College. She was co-director for the 2014 Austin International Poetry Festival and on the 2008 Albuquerque Poetry Slam Team. She has a poetry chapbook called Language of Crossing (SWEPublications).

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “say when” by corey ruzicano

say when

when the moon was a thumbnail
and the sky was still paint
i loved you
still and blue and dark against my own palms
heavy in the safe house of my throat
i choked on all the unuttered letters.
i learned.

when the moon was a coin
and the land was still page
i loved you
static over song
lighting pop of sunshine soda
a rumble overhead
a sky cracked open
a sudden happening—
i held
everything
and then nothing.
i learned.

when the moon was a bone
and the night was still kind
i loved you
sharp edged and secret
in the smooth stone stream
jagged and graceless
eyes adjusting
not-quick-enough
to the dusk everywhere descending.
i ran before the dust could settle
i learned.

when the moon was a pearl
and the sun was
the sun
i loved you.
and love you
and stumble
and stew
and struggle
and stay
and continue to
love you.
and learn.

remember
the moon
is only a mirror
she shines
because you do.

 

corey ruzicano is a producer/writer/educator from the san francisco bay area. while pursuing her bfa at emerson college she went through the creative producing program under p. carl and david dower, and continues to write for howlwound. she has completed apprenticeships at the lark, the orchard project and the 52nd street project. she has been the creative projects manager of jeanine tesori’s studio, siena music and a broaderway, where she also teaches writing and leadership to young women. she has managed the intern program at second stage theater and fellowships and awards for new dramatists and aids in making space for writers of all kinds and created community engagement programs for rattlestick playwrights theater. she is the executive producer of words on white, an art and conversation initiative. with all her work, she seeks to empower voices and stories that encourage more empathic communities and a better understanding of one another.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “Tommy Gun Boy” by Haolun Xu

Tommy Gun Boy

Haolun Xu

it’s a remarkable thing, to see a town that trusts.
i come in to thame street with all the shining people
wearing my dirty yakuza-suit and my face looking like a tommy-gun.
i’m the only foreign man, walking through this area and i pass by white families
that all collectively wear the same khaki flag. and yet,
they don’t see me in their happiness.

now within the town is a small building by the sea, and to my horror i can walk right in.
i don’t need an invitation, so i waltz in,
where the small staircases lead to a beautifully empty library.
it’s a demonstration by the whole town,
because who would steal or ruin such dusty and venerable naval books,
and alongside the library is a small room with no people in it.

when i walked in i notice pillows on the floor and gasped,

gasped because it’s a room for praying and it’s open to everyone.
who owns this room, i say out loud, a ghoul lost within a safe-house –
who takes it upon themselves to make such a small study,
an altar within a library
within a town
within a person’s heart
within a person to violate in privacy

 

Haolun Xu is 24 years old and was born in Nanning, China. He immigrated to the United States in 1999. He was raised in central New Jersey and is currently studying Political Science and English at Rutgers University. Transitioning from a background in journalism and activism, he spends his time between writing poetry and the local seashore.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “Unbending” by Betsy Littrell

Unbending

Betsy Littrell

Her fingers, long and lean—
a piano player’s.

She finds her hands strumming
dark notes — adagio.

This is who I am.

The notes become wild, ferocious,
without giving her body warning — vivacissimo.

That is who I am.
She smells
blue in the air.

Fingers relax, unbending.

 

Betsy Littrell is a whimsical soccer mom to four boys, working on her MFA in creative writing at San Diego State University. Her recent or forthcoming publications include Little Patuxent Review, Adanna, San Diego Poetry Annual, The Road Not Taken, Prometheus Dreaming and Literary Mama among others. In addition, she volunteers with Poetic Youth, teaching poetry to underserved elementary students.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Results of the 2020 Chapbook Open Call

Swimming with Elephants Publications would like to send a big thank you to everyone who submitted and participated with the 2020 Chapbook Open Call.

Everyone who submitted their chapbook has been sent a response at this time through submittable. If you have yet to receive a response, please check your submittable account or email us at swimwithelephants@gmail.com.

Our three judges have done an excellent job going through the submissions and have chosen 4 wonderful manuscripts for publication in 2020. The only catch is, we are waiting on two of our selected authors to reply before making a public announcement of the chosen manuscripts. Accepted manuscripts have until February 15, 2020 to respond with interest or regret.

If you submitted your manuscript, please be sure to check the submission status soon and if your manuscript was accepted please message us by February 15th.

 

 

Weekly Write: “An Open Letter to 5 AM” by Jessica Parascandola

An Open Letter To 5 AM

An open letter to 5 am
Dear you
You are the hour of early commuters and hungry college students
The hour of sleepy sex and
Am I still…. Drunk?
People rarely roll over and smile into the stars in your eyes
You are more regularly met with raspy groans and a marathon of snooze buttons
Dear you
You are the hour of book worms
And the last 100 pages of a six book series
You hold the lonely people of the world against your chest and offer as much comfort as you
can
Brush tears from cheeks with whispers of a few more minutes of sleep
Dear you
You are nervous
Wrapped around the comfort of the night like a child clinging to a mother’s leg
You are restless
Arms outstretched eyes wide
Fumbling in the dark
Tripping over dreams that rolled out of heads some time around three
You are sweaty palms
Swiped briskly across tangled sheets
And gasping into consciousness
Dear you
You are the hour of sitting cross crossed on the couch and rolling eyes at the news
You smell like coffee and exhaust pipes
You are full of angry crimson tail lights and bleary eyed confusion
Dear you
Thank you
For being the hour that I most easily remember the way my grandfather used to greet you
noisily
For keeping him tucked gently between his palms
And allowing me to cry for all the times he will never wake me for you
You are the hour of bittersweet memories
Of salt trails on cheeks
Of rough hands
And callused feet
The hour of sitting on window seats and wishing on stars
And hoping to God that today does not break us
You are the hour of quiet contemplation
And questioning of judgment
Of emotional breakdowns and putting ourselves back together again
Dear you
Thank you
Sincerely
Me

 

I wrote this poem after I lost people that I thought I couldn’t live without, and I had to learn how to rebuild myself without them. It was early in the morning and I was angry. Angry that I was awake and angry that I felt as weak as I did. I wrote it to remind myself to focus on the moment, to take things one step at a time and that every day has the potential to better than yesterday.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “Memoirs of the Childless” by James Miller

Memoirs of the Childless

Hours before
pulling out of Hyde Park, it is
suggested that the oil might need
changing. Your engine spins
near-dry,

and the look
on their faces is not unlike
that judgement of parents on the weak,
who have failed to kill the lice
in their children’s
matted hair.

No room
for the dining table
this time—two months
on the lease and you’re leaving
Ikea beige behind. Taste of 1995,
chips ahoy and fuzzed milk,
not a single stain-rim
on its sainted
surface.

Pull off its legs
like a bug in extremis,
roll the flat-top sundial disk
down three flights, slide it behind
the stairs. Turn south to curl
in your mother’s
house,

stretch to touch
floor and ceiling. Another
inch and you’re ready for twenty,
thirty years of
teaching.

James Miller is a native of Houston, though he has spent time in the American Midwest, Europe, China, South America and India. Recent publications include Cold Mountain Review, The Maine Review, Lunch Ticket, Gravel, Main Street Rag, Verdad and Juked.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “Elegy for My Brother-in-Law” by Robin Scofield

Elegy for My Brother-in-Law

Your baby learned to wave bye-bye at lunch today;
of course, he doesn’t know what it means as he giggles
in his yogurt the day your left ventricle seized,
and you fell as you were by the kitchen sink
where you left your lighter. You left my sister,
your 13 month-old son, and another in the womb.
Your six-year relationship ends here with her holding
your hand after they pronounce you dead before
you finished falling. Your cousin Eileen is six.
She’s had her share: little brother run over by a van,
and her mother almost died after bariatric surgery.
Your baby could learn a lot about bye-bye from her.
Greg, your mother collapsed sobbing:
Oh Gregory what have you done
Oh Gregory what have you done
and more in her liturgical Hungarian.
Your father died the same way at the same age, 48.
I’m going to be a different dad this time around,
you said, the day before when you hoisted the baby
in your arms or put him on your knee as you played
piano and wrote a letter to your teenage daughter.

Robin Scofield, author of Flow (Street of Trees Projects), winner of the Southwest Book Award from the Border Regional Library Association, has poems appearing in Ponder Review, The Main Street Rag, and Mocking Heart Review. She writes with the Tumblewords Project in El Paso and attends the San Miguel Poetry Week.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “A Moth is Lying Dead” by James Redfern

A Moth is Lying Dead (Reflections on Saint Teresa)

a moth is lying dead
on the windowsill
of a rented room.

her wings are singed
and blackened
with the same sickness
ailing me.

a moth is lying dead
on the windowsill
of a rented room.

fuzzy thorax and little legs
no longer serving
a purpose
save collecting dust
blown in
through the window screen.

a moth is lying dead
on the windowsill
of a rented room.

still trying for a little more light
even as her mind
has moved on to another place,
still trying for one last fix
her wings burnt
and blackened already.

a moth is lying dead
on the windowsill
of a rented room.

the elegant patterns
of black and brown
on the backs of her wings
still visible
within the stinging chorus
of sirens’ seductive singing
telling tales of Icarian glory.

a moth is lying dead
on the windowsill
of a rented room.

lifeless and still,
no more flying and flittering
around blinding light
burning through sockets,
no more prison
inside the screen
feeling the sun from so very far away,
no more thoughts divine,
no more musing
on the way
the planets go round,
no more love
in her tiny, broken,
dusty little heart,
no more singing
in chorus with other wingéd
creatures crazy and running the skies,
no more nothing
save the final slow decay.

no more black-eyed friendships,
no more trying to score,
no more understanding
the loss of god on earth,
no more leaning into fire
until the fuzz and flesh burn off,
no more chains,
no more gravity,
no more waiting on death,
no more contemplation
of the longing
for an elsewhere messiah,
no more flying in circles
betraying subtle imperfections
as they grow ever smaller and tighter,
unflinching and closing in upon destiny
approaching the killing fire
to test the mettle of her soul incarnate
to test the truth of her spiritual love
to see how much she can take
before the burning really takes hold,
no more miscalculation,
no more blues suspended
in aching arching agony flight
somewhere between land and salvation,
no more of this,
no more moth obligations
and no more moth dues to pay,
no more got-no-place-to-land worries,
no more friends
no more expectations
no more ego
no more eyes feeding consciousness
no more living heart pumping blood
no more life
no more nothing.

the fire’s all gone.

a moth lies dead
on the windowsill
of a rented room.

James Redfern was born and raised in Long Beach, California. Redfern is a graduate of Grinnell College. His work has been published by Whizdome Press, Great Lakes Poetry Press, Transcend, Fear and Loathing in Long Beach, and elsewhere. He is the author of several novels (most recently HECATOMB) and several volumes of poetry (most recently Catfish in a Bowl Redux).

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “God and Death” by Darryl Lorenzo Wellington

God and Death

God is a long-time neighbor who you used to imagine could become a closer friend – someone that you have become accustomed to judging at a distance.

***

Death is a beautiful woman, infamous, inviolable, sans emotional  attachments. She is too beautiful for human emotions. No one remains surprised anymore. No one doubts her majestic impersonality. Strange, then, because tears, cries, and hysterical lamentations accompany her arrival.

***

Death advises. Please marry, or fall in love, or make love in fantasy to shadows lacking corporeal reality. This will lessen the disappointment, the final loss, the bitterness, at the end.

***

Be wary. Stranger.

Life, the felicitous wife; Death, the less kind, less forgiving mistress.
Love yourself less openly. If you love your wife too passionately, too intensely, too proudly, Death, the cryptic, closeted mistress, becomes jealous.

***

Death strews advice like funeral flowers.

 

Darryl Lorenzo Wellington is poet, essayist, performance artist and journalist living in Santa Fe, NM. His poetry has appeared in Pedestal, Boston Review, Matter Monthly, Drunken Boat, N+1, Yellow Medicine Review, and other places. His collection, Life’s Prisoners, received the 2017 Turtle Island Quarterly poetry chapbook award.

Happy New Year from Swimming with Elephants Publications


We want to start by thanking everyone for all their support over the years. As we enter year seven of Swimming with Elephants Publications, it is amazing to see how what started as a small chapbook publication agent has bloomed to be the publisher of close to 100 publications supporting authors from all over the world.

As you know, this is a not for profit venture, which means that the resources and time spent making each publication is undertaken without charge. We sustain our business model through the sales of our anthologies and the reimbursement of the first 25 internet sales, along with the occasional submission fee. We are a fragile beast, but at this point we are persisting and that wouldn’t be happening without the hard work of our authors and supporters.

Thank you to our authors for having faith in our little sideshow and allowing us to spread your words in print. Thank you to our supporters and readers, who continue to pick up new SwEP titles and get to know our new authors.

What’s New?

We have become an official affiliate of Bookworks Albuquerque, a local, independent bookstore. Bookworks has always been a great supporter of Swimming with Elephants Publications. Not only do they carry our books on their shelves and website, they have hosted several events and releases for Swimming with Elephants Publications authors over the years. We encourage everyone who wishes to purchase a title online, to do so through Bookworks Albuquerque. By doing so, you are supporting not only Swimming with Elephants Publications but our local independent bookstore. Shop small. Support Local.

Another collaboration which has occurred over the past year, has been with NMTESOL and Central New Mexico Community College (CNM). Over the past year we have been working with the ESL Program (English as Second Language) at CNM to produce two publications created by ESL students and the ESL Club, Open Language. We are excited to share the voices of these students who might otherwise have been unable to express themselves. We look forward to more collaborations with the ESL community in 2020.

Time to Get to Work

January of 2020 is already a busy time. We are currently working on creating author statements which will be sent out by the end of the month. If you are an active SwEP Author and do not receive a statement by the end of January, please email us. You must reply to your author statement to remain an active SwEP author and to receive any available royalties for 2019.

This month also has us busy with selecting manuscripts from the Open Call for publication in 2020. Although our Open Call judges will select three manuscripts for publication, all submissions are still considered as our 2020 publication calendar is created. Please stay tuned to our website and Facebook page to get a look at this year’s publications as soon as they are announced.

Speaking of publications and submissions, Swimming with Elephants Publications has made an important change. Beginning in October 2019, submissions for chapbooks and poetry collections will only be accepted through the fall submission Open Call. We no longer have the ability to put together last minute collections or begin midyear projects. If you or someone you know would like to submit a manuscript, the next Open Call for submissions will be in October 2020.

Many of our authors have projects in the works and are continuing to promote their publications and their work. Keep your eye on the website and the Facebook page for the announcements of tours and shows in 2020!

New Releases from 2019

(in no significant order)

Sad Bastard Soundtrack
By Paulie Lipman

Cement
By Sarah Menefee

Immigrant Memories & Poetic Ambitions
By Laura Jijon

Intersex, Truth and Spirituality
By Maria Sanchez

Trumpet Call: A Swimming with Elephants Anthology
By Maxine Peseke

OM Boy
By Manuel González

Among God & Other Drugs
By Matthew Brown

Belly Up Rosehip
By Tyler Dettloff

Sell Me Insanity
By Marcial Delgado

I’ve Been Cancelling Appointments with my Psychiatrist for Two Years Now
By Sean William Dever

disaster in die / an overdose sunrise
By bassam

Small World: Central New Mexico Community College
By Yueh Ni Lin

Shorn: apologies & vows
By Benjamin Bormann

Provocateur
By Jessica Helen Lopez

Trauma Carnival
By SaraEve Fermin

Light as a Feather: An Anthology of Resilience
By Courtney Butler

Thalassophile: a chapbook of poetry
By Abigayle Goldstein

Click here to see the full Swimming with Elephants Publications Catalog.

Thank you for reading and for being a part of our Parade! Have a wonderful 2020!

Sincerely,

Kat Crespin & Maxine Peseke

Weekly Write: “Glacial Affection” by Lizzie Waltner

Glacial Affection

Lizzie Waltner

I will give you frost bite when I kiss you,
leave snowflakes on lashes as I pull away,
I will help you understand the importance of hypothermia.

When the shaking stops
feelings have only just begun.

Your body will attempt to warm my heart
while I keep you embraced in cirques,
and form alpine glaciers with our bodies.

We’ll create sediment beneath us,
leave mountain peaks in our path.

We’ll flood valleys when the sun caresses
our skin before we’re ready to melt.

You will attempt to remove the winter
from my bones and replace it with summer.

This will cause irregular heartbeats
that damage my crystalline structure.

Eventually, we’ll find equilibrium:
my snowfall matching your melt.

We’ll feel timeless –

carve ourselves to the beach,
freeze the tide,
extend our grip above the ocean
and generate icefields.

We’ll enjoy the sunsets for a time,
‘til one of us shatters,
and breaks into iceberg.

My fingers will frost over
never close enough
to touch yours again.

Lizzie Waltner grew up in Rio Rancho, NM, attended ENMU for her BS in Journalism, and then has since moved to Wales, UK to complete her MA in Creative writing at Aberystwyth University.

 

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Weekly Write: “I Love You” by Evelyn Louise May

I Love You

Evelyn Louise May

He slid into the driver’s seat of the small red car; we were just a year out of high school. His hands fumbled through coat pockets searching, his face turning red as he looked away. From his breast pocket a white folded scrap of paper. “One more thing,” handing me the note. This must have been the kind of letter that says something that cannot be spoken, a truth that means nothing will ever be the same. In boyish handwriting a simple message.

 

Evelyn Louise May is a writer and avid reader who lives in Minneapolis, MN. Evelyn loves history, medical oddities, untold stories, and coffee. When she isn’t working on an MFA in creative writing at Augsburg University, she can be found riding her tandem bicycle with her husband/muse, Ryan.

 

 

“Like”, “Share”, and comment on this poem to nominate it for the Annual Swimming with Elephants Publications 2020 Anthology.

Click here check out the 2019 Anthology:  Trumpet Call; a Swimming with Elephants Anthology available for only $12.95.

Liza Wolf-Francis

Liza Wolff-FraLizaHeadShotncis is a poet and writer with an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Goddard College. She was co-director for the 2014 Austin International Poetry Festival and a member of the 2008 Albuquerque Poetry Slam Team. She has an ekphrastic poem posted in Austin’s Blanton Art Museum by El Anatsui’s sculpture “Seepage” and her work has most recently appeared in Edge, Twenty, unseenfiction.com, Border Senses, and on various blogs. As a social worker, she has worked with Spanish speaking immigrant populations for twenty years. She wrote the play “Border Rising” from interviews with undocumented Mexican immigrants in Los Angeles. She currently lives in Albuquerque, NM.

Beau Williams

Beau Williams is a fairly optimistic poet based out of Portland Maine. He co-runs a weekly poetry class at Sweetser Academy and facilitates workshops at high schools and colleges around the New England area. His work has been published in numerous poetry websites and journals.

Beau has performed internationally and nationally both as a solo artist and with the performance poetry collectives Uncomfortable Laughter and GUYSLIKEYOU. He was the Grand Slam Champion at Port Veritas in 2014 and was the Artist in Residence at Burren College in Ballyvaughan, Ireland in January of 2017. Beau’s book, Rumham, is available for purchase on Amazon.com.

 

R.B. Warren

Litanies Not AdoptedBob Warren is without credentials of any kind. He never graduated from anything, never received a diploma or certificate of completion from any sort of institution of either higher or lower learning.

At the age of thirteen, he stole all of his school records and spent that school year teaching himself at the Detroit Institute of Arts. He quit school at fifteen. At seventeen, he took part in his first civil rights march. At twenty-one, he was elected Unit Steward for the Operating Engineers.

Two decades later in Houston, he went to work at a poverty church. His jobs were to lead morning prayers and to beg food for 125 to 150 families a week. He was for nine years the Associate Director for the Albuquerque Storehouse. Subsequent to that, he was Resource Director for Habitat for Humanity in Valencia County.

He is married to Barbara Warren who came to the marriage with five kids who have somehow become 19 grandkids and 18 great-grandkids.

Pick up Litanies Not Adopted, Warren’s first collection of poetry, from Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

Maria D. Sanchez

Maria D. Sanchez has a Doctorate of Education, Ed,D. from Argosy University in Sarasota, Florida and a Masters in Counseling, M.A. from Webster University in Albuquerque, N.M. Sanchez also holds a Double Major in Business and Human Services, B.S.O.E. from Wayland Baptist University in Lubbock, Texas.

Dr. Sanchez has been in the Mental Health Counseling field for the past twenty years. She is also currently working as Director/Administrator of the

Toledo Y Carrasco Academia Hebreica. She has given presentations in Albuquerque, Santa Fe and El Paso on, “The Residual Trauma of the Inquisition.” Ms. Sanchez is working with the Jewish Federation helping individuals with Crypto or Converso Jewish background to obtain their dual citizenship to Spain.

At Family Tree DNA Project, she has assisted Adam Brown in obtaining DNA swabs from the Crypto and Converso Jewish population.

Dr. Sanchez is currently teaching classes on Crypto, Converso and Jewish culture, language (Ladino), Sephardi Jewish history, Torah studies, and Hebrew language. Her current works in Publication: El Sudario de Carrasco, Toledo y Maes;

Intersex,    Truth,    and    Spirituality;    El    Espejo, Memorias y Fotos de mi Mama Loggie Carrasco; Mi Nombre, La Historia de mi familia des de el ano 1350.

Currently, Dr. Sanchez lives in New Mexico with her family and four legged family members. She is in the process of developing seminars and conferences on Intersex topics.

Aja Oishi

Aja Oishi lives in northern New Mexico. Her writing draws from ecology, anthropology, and the years she spent in Spain, Japan, and New Zealand. She revels in the uncaged world and makes a living (and a life) by fighting for prisoners as an appellate public defender. Rock Paper Scissors is her first collection of poetry.