Born and raised in Portland Oregon, Susie received a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature from Brigham Young University, spent some years in the Ohio Appalachians and currently lives in the Willamette Valley with her husband and cat where she works in the Vineyard industry. She spends her free time writing, growing plants and making art. She has been published in a variety of journals, on line and in print, and co edits The Blue Hour Literary Magazine, http://thebluehourmagazine.com/.
We proudly present Issue #006, an all poetry issue, which features work by Kevin Ridgeway, Kelly Creighton,Kanchan Chatterjee, A. P. Carlson, Jeffrey Graessley, Gerald Yelle, Ryan Swofford, Bree,Catfish McDaris, Owen Lucas, Tracey Lander-Garrett, and Kay Kinghammer.
Written after reading an article on the rehabilitation of inmates using retired race horses.
Raced for years, stood in stalls,
carried jockeys nine summers,
lot in horse, ‘specially a racer
thought I’d be sent
there, you know—
the glue factory, old chum,
the slaughterhouse for those hosses
who’ve outlived the last race
swollen, strained, fractured
they brought me from the track
put me on the truck, brought me
to a new stable, surprised.
Next day a man comes in alone
smells like sweat and somethin’ broken,
but eyes so open—his hands
didn’t know horses—now I know him
here behind walls, bars, this man
his fear gone now, his eyes opened
his whole face—the smell of horse sweat
honest on his clothes, smells
like a young foal—alive
hungry for hay, the feel of
grass beneath his hooves,
the wide new sky, spring rain.
Tracey Lander-Garrett teaches at Borough of Manhattan Community College and plays Dungeons & Dragons in her spare time. She’s had work published in Brooklyn Review, Mid-America Poetry Review, The Weekender, and others. She lives in Brooklyn, NY with her husband and too many cats.
A Russian thistle tumbleweed
rolling down the road, a pile
of fool’s gold blowing in the wind
A pocketful of dreams, a trail
of broken hearts & bottles
Your hand encompasses the universe,
blue honey water in the marrow,
starry eyes & nights, campfire smoke
Another beach to explore, hobo
coffee from a tin can, better than
champagne with an heiress
Boxcar, thumb, canoe, limo, yacht:
shoe leather express, all equal,
all adequate transportation
A wisdom mountain to climb
to a wildflower meadow, disdain
for time & appointments
The wolf called civilization will always
gnaw at your heels, if you surrender,
it will chain you like the rest.
Catfish McDaris is an aging New Mexican living near Milwaukee. He has four walls, a ceiling, heat, food, a woman, two cats, a typing machine, and a mailbox. That’s enough for him. He writes for himself and sometimes he gets lucky and someone publishes his words. He remains his biggest fan. He’s been sliding in the shadows of the small press for 20 years.