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Saturday, April 8, 2017


Editor John D. Robinson writes: This series is firing full-blast on all 5 cylinders with 3 legendary poets from the USA;

Gerald Nicosia (author of  ‘Memory Babe: a critical biography of Jack Kerouac)  ‘the definitive work on the life and writings of Jack Kerouac’ A poet of extraordinary depth’  ‘has been blessing the literary pages for 3 decades and more.’

Rob Plath (Has been a presence in the underground poetry for over 25 years and has published poetry all over the world and has many chapbook publications to his name)   ‘A poet of tough versatility: simply put, quality’

Alan Catlin  (Has been a presence in the underground poetry for many years and has published over sixty chapbooks and full length books of prose and poetry, his poetry appears all over the world) ‘A poet that can reach clear across the boundaries with ease.’

and two poets from the UK:
Martin Appleby (Poet and Publisher: Paper & Ink Zine:  some of his poetry has been collected in ‘Worse Things Happen At Sea: Selected Poems’; his work appears widely in the small press and online literary journals: "Martin Appleby is a much needed new poetical voice. Here are poems from the margins, poems from the cultural hinterland, poems from unrequited lovers of the world.’
John D Robinson (Poet and Publisher: Holy&intoxicated Publications: he has published 2 chapbooks of poetry: ‘When You Hear The Bell, There’s Nowhere To Hide’ ‘Cowboy Hats & Railways’ his work appears widely in the small press and online literary publications:
‘A poet, a hard read, a visceral read, with no pretty images, in other words, no bullshit.’

A poem from each contributing poet:

for Lenore Kandel (1932-2009)

Keeping her genius quiet
So that only a few knew
Her heart large
Her suffering long
Her patience endless
Her love unbreakable
Could never say no
Must have embraced death
Like a lover
My only sadness
That the new joys she’s found
Will never be told
To us
In yet another poem

© 2017 Gerald Nicosia

bloody love

all my loves have gone away

only my demons show devotion

they’re always arriving

w/ a bouquet of dark horns

to pierce my heart

© 2017    Rob Plath

Images by Patti Smith

Mundane objects imbued
with deep, personal meaning:

Bolano’s writing chair,
Hesse’s decrepit writing machine,

Virginia Woolf’s tarnished
walking stick,

Jim Carroll’s narrow, single bed,
Fred Smith’s recovered childhood toy;

all their owners gone. A woman
with a camera remembering.

© 2017 Alan Catlin


I woke up
with a split lip
a busted nose
and no memory

Dried blood
and matted
in my moustache

The bastard stuff
wouldn't shift
without ripping
hair from root

Another day
on the front line
in the war
against myself

© 2017 Martin Appleby


The next time I saw Eddie
he said to me
‘Fuck man!
I’ve never woken up
amongst so many
fucked up naked bodies
in one apartment
and when some drunken
clown rang your
door bell at 4am
and you got up and
answered the door

not knowing or
caring who it was
without a thread on
I knew why some
call you ‘Long John’
‘Trick of the light’
I said smiling,
‘make it a Jim Beam’
‘Okay’ Eddie said.

©2017 John D Robinson

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