the Beneath Issue of Beaver Magazine is live & free online right now! it is the first ever magazine ive edited for & i am immensely proud of the pieces i was so generously allowed to read & select
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While I force myself to take a break from writing fics and headcanons before I get fully burnt out on it, I would really appreciate if yall could check out this poetry magazine two of my friends from uni have just started!!!
The poetry published is wonderful and they're accepting submissions right now! If you need someone to vouch for them, I can vouch for both of them and the quality of the work they publish! One of the editors was an editor with me on my uni's creative writing magazine for third year, and the other editor won the creative writing award for their amazing work!
Guidelines and more about the magazine is under the link and even if you don't wanna submit anything, I would love it if you could give the poems a read!
Please give this a reblog so other writers and poetry lovers can give it a look and maybe even submit a poem!
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December 6: Pierogi and Poetry.
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Y’all!!!
Two more of my poems have been accepted for publication!! This time by a queer UK-based magazine called Snowflake magazine. My work will appear in their Anthology Issue II which is now available for preorder!
Go get your copy!!
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In The Loop
In the Loop
BY BOB HICOK
I heard from people after the shootings. People
I knew well or barely or not at all. Largely
the same message: how horrible it was, how little
there was to say about how horrible it was.
People wrote, called, mostly e-mailed
because they know I teach at Virginia Tech,
to say, there’s nothing to say. Eventually
I answered these messages: there’s nothing
to say back except of course there’s nothing
to say, thank you for your willingness
to say it. Because this was about nothing.
A boy who felt that he was nothing,
who erased and entered that erasure, and guns
that are good for nothing, and talk of guns
that is good for nothing, and spring
that is good for flowers, and Jesus for some,
and scotch for others, and “and” for me
in this poem, “and” that is good
for sewing the minutes together, which otherwise
go about going away, bereft of us and us
of them. Like a scarf left on a train and nothing
like a scarf left on a train. As if the train,
empty of everything but a scarf, still opens
its doors at every stop, because this
is what a train does, this is what a man does
with his hand on a lever, because otherwise,
why the lever, why the hand, and then it was over,
and then it had just begun.
Source: Poetry (February 2010)
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DEBORAH LANDAU
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can finally announce that i will be reading, reviewing, & approving submissions for Beaver Magazine! check out their guidelines & submit here
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Devils in America
I was born on all angels day
but throughout my life
i’ve been a bitch out of hell/
don’t nobody show up at my funeral
to call me nice or some shit like that/
save it for turncoat cocksuckers
who on their deathbeds
open their mouths wide to claim god/
though christianity befuddles me
i’m amazed at how it enslaves
the gay african-american community/
lately i’ve wished there’s such a thing
as the almighty ’cause on judgment day
i’d unload a few choice words:
hey omniscient you
do you feel proud with so much
madness committed in your name/
hey omnipotent you
ain’t you got nothing better to do
than making folks suffer/
hey omnipresent you
do you remember my lovers & I buttfuck/
go screw yourself
asshole of the universe/
can I get a witness/
—Assotto Saint (Poetry, May 2023)
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A poem by Marie Howe
Chainsaw
There’s always a chainsaw somewhere,
the high whine of a drill, somebody building something or
tearing it down, fastening metal to metal.
Almost everywhere the sound of the human will,
the bluster of an engine, the grind of a blade, the wheel,
hammering, repair.
Someone nailed to a cross, someone leashed, lashed.
Someone hung from a scaffold: listen: the squeak of the rope:
more hammering.
Kill him with his own gun, one woman shouted, Kill him with his own gun.
What have we made? What are we making?
And who or what made us that we should make such things as we do and did?
We grow smaller—we break things,
then turn to each other and beg for what no human can give.
Marie Howe
Source: Poetry (May 2023)
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....we need to write it weird, sing it in an imaginary key, headspin it in the opposite direction. Do whatever we must in order to enact the kind of art we want, whether the wind is whistling its tune or not, so that this year can be one of possibility instead of inevitability.
—Adrian Matejka, from the January/February 2024 Poetry Magazine Editor's Note
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Casual Chandeliers
so understated he could be
swedish or so sehr praktisch
even deutsch with his grey haus-
schuhe in the door of a space
safe with church tax rent control
an automatic heating plan
and cheap light softened by
synthetic glass refracting
the abyss of memory
foam and cut-price bedding
bought online on the off chance
of drinks and kisses irl
then breakfast then conversation
during which she'd follow
his gaze to the stylish reserve
of independent living and oh
these casual chandeliers
Susan Finlay, featured in Poetry Magazine's March 2022 issue
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Editor's Letter | Hermit Edition / virgo szn 2023
I dream of Opal Age - ig
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