Featuring Gwil James Thomas

19.04.2020. 

 Through 

a lightly 

 smudged 

windowpane - 

 a Japanese 

Magnolia Tree. 

Its blossom 

 twisting 

in the wind - 

 as my eyes 

follow 

 the trails, 

until 

 I become 

the 

 blossom -

slowly 

 drifting 

up 

 into 

the 

 lilac dusk. 

There are Some Poems. 

That can only be written 

feverishly on the spot, 

with everything fucking dropped - 

catching the poem off guard 

before it can resist, 

or be overworked - 

as you break in through the backdoor 

blasting it in the cranium

with the sawn off shotgun -

raiding it for every 

word and syllable you can find 

and leaving before the blood 

can drip back down 

from the ceiling - 

never once looking back.

Catalonian Bread 

You turned off the TV 

that was broadcasting  

bad news in Spanish,

before olive oil dripped 

from my toast slice 

and landed perfectly 

by my crotch, 

like some suggestive stain 

on my freshly washed 

pale jeans - 

as I then looked up to see 

you eating with elegance 

and intimidating beauty.

‘It’s fucking delicious,’ 

I said, taking another bite 

of the lunch you’d prepared - 

‘Please, it’s only toast, 

tomato, garlic and olive oil,’ 

you replied 

‘It’s way more than that,’ 

I added, 

which sounded stupid 

the second that it left

my mouth - 

but you just smiled at me 

across that table - 

still leaving me feeling 

like I was at a royal banquet, 

even if I’d only ever be 

a fleeting king.

The First Job I Ever Had. 

Working full time as a dishwasher 

in a cafe that had once been a public toilet 

with a stressed, but fair Turkish boss, 

a barista that always joked that if he’d 

won the lottery he’d buy the cafe 

and turn it back into a public toilet, 

a chef that’d blast Cannibal Corpse 

whilst angrily pressing paninis,

a waitress that I never quite knew - 

but whose kind face I still remember 

and on Saturdays, an old ex crook 

named Pot Wash Paul who’d help me dish 

as he’d become the bard of the dish pit -

telling me his burglary stories, 

followed by his prison stories and 

that all this world ever came down to 

was crooks and victims and at some point 

we all had to choose between the two - 

before they fired him for talking too much 

and I’d always wonder how I’d look back 

at my time in that greasy kitchen years on, 

but in truth I remember little -  

other than it wasn’t the best job,

nor the worst,

but it was the first of many that I’d take, 

moonlighting for the love 

of this strange art.

Gwil James Thomas is a poet, novelist and inept musician, whose written work can be found widely in print and also online. His sixth poetry chapbook Cocoon Transitions can be found here https://analogsubmission.com/chapbooks/gwiljamesthomas-cocoontransitions

Find more work by Gwil James Thomas on BM here:  https://georgedanderson.blogspot.com/2019/09/featuring-gwil-james-thomas.html

New Release: John D. Robinson SMOKING HERB & OTHER STORIES (Analog Submission Press, 2020) 22 pages

This is John D. Robinson's first chapbook of short stories and was released today through Analog Submission Press. There are three short stories in the chap totaling twenty pages.

The writing is clear and Robinson is quick off the mark to establish the setting and his characters. He shrewdly builds up the tension and keeps his readers guessing as to what will happen next. He moves easily between first and third person narration.

The title story ‘Smoking Herb’ is about a vagabond who wanders coast to coast doing labouring jobs to survive. When he bunks down for the night in a out-house, unexpected and bizarre events ensue. 

In ‘Shop Keeping’ a 19 year-old Fine Arts student takes a part-time job in an adult shop to help support his studies. What he sees in the passing trade both delights and boggles his mind. 

In the final story ‘One Fine Afternoon’ the narrator smokes a joint and starts digging a shallow grave for a mysterious purpose.

In these deadly times, treat yourself to the chap here: https://analogsubmission.com/chapbooks/johndrobinson-smokingherb

New Release: Scott Wozniak Radiating Like Insanity (Analog Submission Press, 2020) 28 pages

Radiating Like Sanity perhaps represents a transition in Scott Wozniak’s poetry. In the chapbook poems such as ‘Silence Keeps a Heart Beating’, ‘Reality Check’, ‘Spare Change for Flight’ and especially the title poem, Wozniak reveals a more sensitive, vulnerable side to his kickass, drug-addled persona he projected in his earlier collections Killing Our Saints (Svensk Apache Press, 2017), Crumbling Utopian Pipedream (Moran Press, 2017) and Shooting Gallery Vultures (Alien Buddha Press, 2019). 

Sober, Wozniak appears to be coming to terms with his life after addiction and his poetry shows a renewed sense of self and love for his family. He is more hopeful in his art and life, for now.

Here are two poems from the chap:

No Choice

It takes

a bold heart

and healthy dose

of ignorance

to step away

from your lot in life

to obtain dreams

that might not exist.

It’s more dangerous

than most know, and

often highlighted

by low standards.

For some though,

there’s no choice.

it’s more fulfilling

to accept failure

as a minor success

when compared

to living a life

you know

you can’t

accept.

Luminescent Lunatic

One of these days

you’re gonna see me

gasping for air

as a million shards

of orange and yellow light

fight their way through

my fractured chest.

My hands will be interlaced,

clutching the light source-

a tattered, glowing heart.

I will be unaware

of what’s happening

‘cause for years

I’ve held it in

And forgot what it meant

To shine.

I’ve ritualistically

extinguished flames

that burn deep inside of me

for so long now

that the fires have become

foreign objects

that feel fragile

in my calloused hands.

When they break free,

suppressed tears

will roll like pepper spray

down my face.

I will know,

As will you,

That it finally happened;

The cage door

Of the luminescent lunatic

Finally swung open.

I will be out of my mind,

I will be shinning,

exploding beauty

I’d forgotten I’d hid

somewhere inside myself.

On the day

I break free

you will see me

take deep breaths,

swallowing wind

by the mouthful

and hording the breeze

like life depends on it,

and in the end,

the only thing left standing

will be a six-foot diamond

ran through with imperfections

and radiating like insanity.

(posted with the permission of the poet)

Buy the book here:https://analogsubmission.com/chapbooks/radiatinglikescott

New release: John D. Robinson Singing Aria's (Analog Submission Press, 2019)

Analog Submission Press

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A message from Analog Press: John D Robinson needs no introduction. ‘Singing Aria’s’ is his latest ‪#chapbook, all new and all recent, drops the 31st July. Limited run, lovingly handmade, painstakingly hand numbered. Pink inner wrappers with white outer wrappers. Pre-orders available now, crash the link!

No doubt the collectible chap will go fast. Only 25 copies!

New Release: John D. Robinson The Pursuit of Shadows . Analog Submission Press (2018) 20 pages

The latest chapbook by UK poet John D. Robinson is published by Marc Bruseke's Analog Submission Press. The chap features 9 of Robinson's latest poems in a limited run of 25 numbered, hand made and staple bond copies. The cover art is in black ink on a lime green card and is by the ubiquitous Swedish artist Janne Karlsson.

Here's the title poem:

THE PURSUIT OF SHADOWS

At about 4:30am the door

bell sounded and whoever

it was, was keeping their

finger on the button; I

made it to a window and I

already knew who I’d see;

I went down and let him

in and told him to be

fucking quiet; ‘In here’ I

said; he walked into the

spare room, sat down and

uncapped a cheap bottle

of wine; ‘Fuck you’ I said, closing

the door behind me and

joining him for a drink;

I’d be drunk by 08:30am

and children would be

going to school and people

would be going to work,

people would be rushing

here and there, like it meant

something and I’d be drunk at 

08:30am with my father and my

woman would awake and be

angry with me for being

drunk at 08:30, whilst almost

everyone else was rushing

here and there, all of them,

chasing their own fucking

shadows.

 Buy the chapbook here: http://www.analogsubmission.com/product/the-pursuit-of-shadows-by-john-d-robinson