6 posts tagged “poem”
At Idaho State University there is a literary journal known as Black Rock & Sage. This journal is a maintained and produced by a team of students, faculty, and teachers, who all sacrifice their time to produce this literary wonder. We have been getting together once a week to plan and carry out the required preparations to accept submissions. The class in which I enroll in, that has to do with the magazine doesn't start until next semester, but we are desperately trying to get local writers, and students to submit.
The details of the magazine are on our website, which is currently being updated, but the submission guidelines are as follows:
Black Rock & Sage
literary and arts magazine
Now Accepting Submissions for
the 2007 edition
· Poetry
· Fiction
· Nonfiction
· Art
· Photography
Please send copies rather than originals
Postmarked by January 31, 2007
Include:
cover letter,
contact information,
fifty-word bio
The cover letter should list the names of works submitted. Please do not put your name on the writing or art works themselves. Art and photography will be published in black and white, so high-contrast works are preferred. Submissions are limited to not more than five poems, five photographs or works of art, or 5,000 words of prose.
Send writing, art, or photography with a self-addressed, stamped envelope to:
Black Rock & Sage
Department of English & Philosophy
Campus Box 8056
Idaho State University
Pocatello, ID 83209
The new semester has started and the deadline is set for January 30th. Please send in submissions if you haven't already. This is what exists in Pocatello Idaho, but its all I have to participate in. It would be nice to see some work from outside of Idaho, and I am looking forward to seeing some variety.
Ella Fitzgerald from a Thrift Store
The 40’s coming into the hands of modern music lovers
For the survival of incredible vinyl records,
Recycled onto new
turntables for hip-hop,
I just let my needle magnify the vibration
From her vocal orchestra.
She came as an angel.
Now, she is with angels,
Her voice is carried through the winter air.
The thin emptiness,
An audience with open ears,
Her inspiration as an angel.
She presents soothing sounds
From the Rogers and Hart
Songbook: a bible.
She saves my soul
My needle becomes a hypodermic
Injection through my ear drum.
My thoughts occur with museful notes
To remind me that I am not
A screw up, and
The day will come when,
I can rest well, like her
Record in my collection
©2006 Jeff Pearson
Many times I just puff on this cigarette without a flame or smoke, just the autumn air being shot through a tobacco straw.
My lungs are treated farely well, but I never know why I don’t just wait a little longer before that match strikes and I connect the two lovers: the flame and the cigarette. So they may produce offspring of nicotine jolts that run through my blood stream, impregnating the reds avoiding the whites. Like it should be.
Without a cigarette,
its just arson.
©2006 Jeff Pearson
Waldenbooks, where I work, is
A haven for the fantastic
And obsessed
The kids that worship anything
From Japan
Or by Orson Scott Card
No Bukowski, Lots of Self-help
My manager should stop reading
Fantasy books in the bathroom.
The Bookstore on Jefferson
Although used,
She is a New Age woman
The shelves are filled with Romance.
Walrus and Carpenter
Is the best, with
Will Peterson and Bukowski
But much more, even though
I never bring enough money to buy anything.
©2006 Jeff Pearson
My roommate’s mom is in the mental asylum and I feel really bad, because
He doesn’t need another reason to smoke more weed and
Binge drink his liver to death.
When he returns from a visit,
I ask him,
“How is she doing?”
He responds,
“Good.”
I am sure he wanted to say,
"She is in the fucking nut house!”
Good is probably the best it will ever get.
©2006 Jeff Pearson
Hearing a siren is soothing.
It reduces my chances of being killed
in a freak accident,
or burning up.
There are only a set number of disasters in a day, and the more that happen to other people, the less there are left to happen to me.
©2006 Jeff Pearson
