I know, I know. What happened to March’s issue? you ask. Well, funny story. I got caught up with school, work, internship and life. Actually, that wasn’t remotely funny one bit.
It’s hard to update the poetry issues regularly, and it’s even harder to do so when you are inundated with really good poetry submissions. It’s a blessing, it’s a curse.
For this month’s issue, we proudly present the sweet smell of Napalm, incredibly long “brief bios” and the crotchless panties made accessible through communism.
So, you know, same old shit here at Gloom Cupboard.
Continue Reading »
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In keeping with the theme of springtime travel, our current crop of nonfiction comes to us from a distance. The distance is literal, with stories originating in Cuba and the remote Chuvash Republic, in Russia; temporal, in their remembering and refiguring of the past and its losses; and figurative, in absenting the characters from the present—and even from another person. ~T.M. De Vos, Nonfiction Editor
by Elizabeth Hanly
She wouldn’t open the door to me that morning. Not at first. “Delia,” I called.
Neighbors shouted down that I should go away. Delia lives less than a block from Havana’s bay on the second floor of what had long ago been a sumptuous building, in a neighborhood that before the revolution had been caliente with its gangsters and whores and remained so. Continue Reading »
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Valentine’s Day is a day away. Christopher Jordan Dorner is presumed dead. So let’s take this time now to enjoy some war and destruction poetry by people with names so good they sound fake who address me as “Mr.”
Count how many times god or God is mentioned in this issue. Hint: less than three, more than once.
This semester I’m taking a Chicano studies class on religion and spirituality and last week we learned some Nahuatl terms. The one that stuck out was Tlamatinime, which roughly means poetic theologians. The Tlamatinime were revered as ancient artists who had the divine power to communicate with the world’s energies through creative arts.
Essentially, that has been the permanent task of the poet, either to document and communicate with god-things or document its non-existence.
Valentine Poem for the Tired
By Zach Fishel
Of all the women
the fragile death
of holding hands
with or the dinners
as the neglected
in their vases
with the wasting of
time Failing us,
It’s always a result of
to each new
reaching for the
of our ghosts.
Continue Reading »
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And a time to go. After three years of GC, I’m passing the Olympic fire to my co-editor-in-chief T.M. De Vos. I, Lena Vanelslander for all clarity, enjoyed my time with you. Which is saying a lot after three whole years, alone or in company of some very capable people. I laughed, I cried and I will follow the mag as much as I can … But for me, it’s time to go and it’s time T. comes. There probably will be some changes, but I know T. is capable and professional, and hopefully she will keep the Olympic fire burning, as it never should be spent.
Morituri te salutant .
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“What happened to December’s issue?” You ask. You ask because you read poetry. You ask because you read poetry featured on Gloom Cupboard.
“I think the poetry editor guy is kind of batshit and inconsistent,” You say. You say this because you’re right, and if one wishes to subscribe to batshit crazines, let him or her be consistent with it. But, alas, the poetry editor is not.
December was a month of moving, a culmination of my junior year at California State University, Northridge. So some stuff fell through the cracks, one of which was releasing a poetry issue for the month. I apologize. But enough of that. In the immortal words of the Alien Poet Lil’ Wayne, “On to the next.”
In this month’s issue you will find poems about love and bullshit.
Gloom Cupboard Poetry Editors
Luis Rivas & HenryAjumeze
By Steve Black
let us barricade ourselves in
let us hold eachother to ransom
let us stockpile guns and ammunition
let us prepare for armageddon
let us make our love on a bed of dust
let us gift the world our pornography Continue Reading »
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A big thank you to everyone!
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 22,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 5 Film Festivals
Click here to see the complete report.
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The American electoral process is a lot like poetry: it’s an amazing, empowering process that fills one with euphoria and hope, and then it’s over.
But seriously folks. I just want to apologize to all you that follow gloomcupboard.com and its poetry section for not getting a poetry issue to you for October. As some of you might know, I am a full-time college student and I had midterms the past couple of weeks. That’s over with now. Once again, sorry.
In the following issue we have poems penned by some that, by this time tomorrow morning, might very well be behind bars.
Why do so many good poems come from the Midwest? You fuckers just drink, read Upton Sinclair and walk the cold, cultured streets in pea coats all night or what?
Born into this world
By Diane Webster
I never asked to be born.
I was comfortable floating
along with my lifeline
of food and oxygen and blood.
Warm, not a care in my world
except to kick my boundaries
until I fell inside a whirlpool
sucked into cold, bright, noisy
foreign world where I cried
my demands whether met or not
always needing help
knowing I would be kicked out
of this world too for a world
I never asked to be born to. Continue Reading »
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