by Serhiy Zhadan
Everything, as always, is justified—
All the roads you’ve traveled and even the futile ones, Read more...
That was Then and This is Now but We’re Finally in Synch
by Hsia Yü
One day as I awoke I asked myself
Is this the future Read more...
Night (In 2 parts): After the DSM IV Description of Bipolar II
by Ed Wilkinson
Performance Poetry Read more...
A Dollop of Meringue
by Nathan Slinker
Nothing happening in the man’s head happens
to feel as good as lemon squares taste before
breakfast but after coffee, when the moon, Read more...
by Manu Samriti Chander
I knew a cabby whose honest-to-God
Name was Finally, the first word
His mother uttered when he came out Read more...
Mad Libs I
by Franny Choi
My body is an entire ____________________ wrangled into a jar.
[body of water] Read more...
The Resurrection of Captain John Brown
by Michael Mlekoday
I was raised by wolves and I learned
to eat earth. I was raised by a bottle
I found washed up by my hut, Read more...
Medusa’s Dinner Party
by Fatimah Asghar
I. In the Grocery Store
We weave the shopping cart down the aisle, Read more...
In the Psych Ward
by Stevie Edwards
A choking terror detonates the psych ward:
drug-blank faces of fellow patients who mind
their minds, who converse with shadows, won’t eat Read more...
Lumpy, an American Sonnet
by Sean DesVignes
Since the Bible never says Adam & Eve ate an apple,
why must we be so specific? I would enjoy a love scene Read more...
by Wesley Rothman
No thing erases. Myth’s wind cannot blot
out the name in alabaster. Atlantis lives Read more...
This liquid in state of frozen chaos holds
by Marilyn McCabe
my forehead. I lean against it, look at the snow
that would not hold me, its agreements
more lax, more wink and nudge. Read more...
by Ann Douglas
A bitch senses under her padded
paws, the earth
as it fattens Read more...
by J. Scott Brownlee
Inside my catfish body you will find
two additional fish—blue & washed
in wet light through the translucent Read more...
[With each handful you dead]
by Simon Perchik
With each handful you dead
breathe in, nourished by dirt
by these leaves half stone Read more...
Whiskey Under the Mattress, Playboy on the Porch
by Trent Masiki
Once in Texas, I pulled up next to a Latino asleep in something like an Impala, outside the washeteria where I had come to do my laundry. Read more...
Orality Hunger (for David Shields)
by Thomas Larson
Since I began writing nonfiction more than two decades ago, I’ve ranged from book to long-form journalism, criticism, essay, memoir, and, of late, video essay. Read more...
An Ugly Anniversary
by Martin C. Hansen
On November 22, 2013, I woke with brains in mind. Funny, I haven’t heard much chatter about other November twenty-seconds, but this nice, round number—the half-century, the big five-OH! Read more...
Reflections on Psychiatry, the Fear of Insanity, Trauma and Psychotherapy
by Dr. Tom Mallouk
I was fired from my first two jobs in psychology. Basically, I had made the mistake of talking to people. Read more...
The Uncomfortable Millionaire
by John Brown Spiers
Claude Charles is an uncomfortable millionaire. He works hard to hide what he calls his “creeping suspicion—that something is not right.” Read more...
by David Low
When Emily Wong moved to Manhattan from Poughkeepsie, she started to freak out on elevators. It began at Saks Fifth Avenue. Read more...
by Vincent Craig Wright
The moon glaring above Table Rock’s got me thinking about our field trip up there in ninth grade and falling in love with this girl I never knew before. Read more...
by Steven Huff
Before I became her darling I towed wrecked machines down the river behind my rowboat. Any kind of wreck you’ve got. Read more...
THE QUIET CAR
by Elizabeth Searle
“Ma’am? You may have to leave.” The deep Godlike voice from the train’s loudspeaker, only live. Anne stiffens in her seat in the Quiet Car. Read more...
An American Family
by Eric Charles May
When Clarion Woodbury was a boy, we’re talking the early 1960s, the New Orleans house of his grandmother was a not very wide, three-story building set on the northwest corner of a shady block. Read more...
Before You Can Change Your Mind
by Jenifer DeBellis
The roads are slick, freshly coated with autumn leaves mixed with last night’s rain. Read more...
House on the Rocks
by Catherine Bell
Our house was the finest house in town, on the highest point of rocks, with the widest view of Boston and the islands and the open sea. Read more...
TO ALL THOSE WHO SUBMITTED TO OUR CONTEST–WE EXPECT TO ANNOUNCE RESULTS BY JULY 27th. OR SOONER.
APOLOGIES FOR THE DELAY BUT WE RECEIVED MORE FINE SUBMISSIONS THAN WE HAD ANTICIPATED. Respectfully, Lee
First, a timely ANNOUNCEMENT: Solsticelitmag will be on a Grub Street panel with Talking Writing on the topic: DigitalLit: Why Online Journals Deserve More Respect at 3:45 at the Park Plaza Hotel in Boston on Friday, May 2nd. Also, we’ll be a party where editors meet writers on Thursday eve at 7pm. Go to MuseandtheMarketplace.org for their amazing weekend schedule.
Also, we announce the first recipient of the KURT BROWN Memorial FELLOWSHIP for a student to attend Pine Manor’s Solstice MFA Low-Residency, with which Solsticelitmag, an independent nonprofit, has an informal sisterly connection. Congratulations to incoming poetry student: Lisa Sullivan.
IN THIS 2014 SPRING ISSUE:
First, our cover: “Water Issues” photographic fine art journalism by Dominic Chavez. Click photography for more of this vital series on water pollution in third world countries.
Our diverse fiction ranges from a premise piece by John Brown Spiers, to subtle magical realism by David Low, to the realism of Elizabeth Searle’s not so quiet story of a quiet car, and Eric May’s depiction of the rise of a Southern African American family dynasty, and Catherine Bell’s depiction of the decline of a WASP family fortune. Also we feature short innovative work, two experimental pieces by Steven Huff, a sexual fantasy by Jenifer DeBellis and a lyrical voice piece by Vincent Craig Wright.
Our culturally relevant nonfiction includes a unique multimedia piece by Thomas Larson, also a brilliant essay investigating African American fatherhood by Trent Masiki; a lyrical piece critiquing the death of JFK by Martin C. Hansen; and finally a provocative essay critiquing psychiatry by Thomas Mallouk.
Also click on our ever-expanding feature: Book Reviews.
And don’t forget our amazing, award-winning Video Performance Poetry, edited by nationally-acclaimed Regie Gibson.
Thanks to all our fine editors, readers and staff. Please see their bios on our impressive Staff Page. Huge thanks to our new eBook co-editor Debbie Merion for publishing our first eBook, Mike Miner’s Everything She Knows. And kudos to our poetry co-editor Ben Berman for the nomination of his collection Strange Borderlands for a Massachusetts Book Award. And please do read the Poetry in Translation, with a poem from the Ukraine, edited by Dzvinia Orlowsky. And especially, we welcome to our staff our new poetry co-editor Jamaal May.
Finally, especially, Subscribe for Free. Receive in exchange tips on submitting to magazines, invites to book parties, lit gossip, profundities, contest dates and winners, and more! And please follow us on Twitter where we’re poised to share vital info.
Your Subscription is vital to the life of our diverse Solsticelitmag community.
Warmly, Lee Hope
Poetry Editor’s Note
Poetry movements are, by their nature, inherently about a narrowing of possibility (let’s all stop doing that and start doing this). What tends to follow such narrowing is a synthesis between 1) what the movement brought into relief, 2) whatever movement it was a reaction to, and 3) the wildcard possibilities explored by daring new poets. When the neo formalism movement subsided, we were left with a field in which the embargo against received form was lifted. It is now no surprise that this issue of mostly free verse also contains a contemporary sestina and sonnet from Stevie Edwards and Sean DesVignes respectively.
I am grateful to be joining on as co-poetry editor at such an exciting time for American poetry. Many boundaries are being crossed, blurred, or obliterated, even while particular styles and aesthetics maintain their fidelity. One need not look further for proof than the conversation that poems by 20-something writers like Nathan Slinker and Franny Choi are having with the 90-something-year-old Simon Perchik. Perchik, who has been described by Library Journal as “the most widely published unknown poet in America,” has an ear for language and unique syntax that, for me, fits well into the shifting, unromantic, but personal lyric style that has me so excited about the next generation of fire-thieves.
As I said to my colleagues when signing on, I have no delusions that I’ll be able to fill Kurt Brown’s shoes, but I hope to make some worthy footprints alongside his.