Tuesday, 14 August 2018
$10 (shipping included). £10/€8
ISBN: 978-0-244-10516-7 - 54 pages
contact urticalitblog at gmail dot com
"Love is illusion, and even lust is stripped of its romantic, erotic charm. Inside, hidden from the lover, lives the wolf, an embodiment of appetite as dangerous as it is energetic and wild. These poems lay themselves bare, rejecting the false comforts of easy and joyous connection." Steve Klepetar
You say you want me inside you
but you don’t know what’s inside me.
The roguery, the erratic wolf craving for
What’s happening inside ourselves
always erupts and bursts outside,
in the shades of some unfathomable shelters
where we cherish the sheer moments of calm.
Now you're there, looking for me,
absolutely nothing could reassure you;
humming like I used to in the time
when we blossomed.
The mountains encircle neuralgia,
clear water is springing from their flanks
like dark blood is spurting from a corpse.
Nostalgia are at peace with themselves
but they will never leave us unharmed.
Let's collapse in the deep corridors of mercy
and burrow through a chemical shroud,
or a shredded duvet.
Sunday, 5 August 2018
in the sun
enjoying my alcohol soaked time
with Summer brightness
and car tires whirring by.
I sniff newspaper delivery
and chainsaw rev up
my coffeemaker in the kitchen.
Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. Her work has recently appeared at In Between Hangovers, Apricity Magazine and The Rye Whiskey Review. She can be reached at facebook.com/alyssalovestowrite
Friday, 3 August 2018
publié en 1993 dans New-Loque, puis dans Mauvaise graine 11, juin 1997
J'irai naviguer sur des champs de Légo
A la recherche d'un morceau de pelle
Symbole de la terre et des patates à l'eau
Ivre de soupe et de caleçons en dentelle
Les chameaux bleus et l'île de Pâques
Tournent dans le tourbillon du bidet
Criant leur haine de la bière en Pak
Ce n'est qu'un ressort trop rouillé.
Monday, 23 July 2018
Release date: 20 August 2018
With a foreword by Steve Klepetar
"Love is illusion, and even lust is stripped of its romantic, erotic charm. Inside, hidden from the lover, lives the wolf, an embodiment of appetite, as dangerous as it is energetic and wild. These poems lay themselves bare, rejecting the false comforts of easy and joyous connection. In one of my favorite among these, “Congratulate,” the animal is a cat who hunts to feed her kittens: “She brings them back dead animals,/lovely huntress – she should be called Diane…” Like the goddess she is lovely and deadly, proud of the fleshy prizes she brings, left there “on the carpet for us all to consider,/her treasure, her trophy, a feather in her cap,/an awesome gift for the month-old furry balls.” Maternal instinct intertwines with violence, pride, and death, capped off by the adorable image of the almost newborn kittens. The emotions here come off as complex, ironic, informed by cynicism and humor as well as by horror."
From the foreword, Steve F. Steve Klepetar
Tuesday, 17 July 2018
|Brokeback Mexican by Karen|
Two young, middle-class, white women are on their way to a demonstration against impurities in lipstick.
Liz: “I can hear a commotion around the corner. That must be it.”
Sandy: “It’s very noisy. I wonder why they’re so excited.”
Liz: “Well its about time that someone got angry at the junk they put in our make-up.”
(They reach the corner and see a demonstration about immigration.)
Sandy: “Look, Liz. It’s about immigrants, not lipstick.”
Liz: “Immigrants are important. We need people to do our nails and stuff. As long
as they don’t move in next door to me.”
Sandy: “You don’t have to worry about that. They couldn’t afford the rent in your building.”
Liz: “That’s not the point. I wouldn’t mind a French or Swedish person next
door. Just not those Mexicans who talk so fast you can’t understand them.”
Sandy: That’s how you might sound to them.”
Liz: “Don’t be silly. I speak English.”
Sandy: “I see there’s no point in discussing it with you. Do you want to join this
Liz: “Of course not! I’m no immigrant. Let’s go someplace nice for lunch.”
Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director, and as an art dealer when he couldn’t make a living in theater. He has 14 published chapbooks. Dogs Don’t Send Flowers and other stories will be published by Wordcatcher Publishing. His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway. His poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. He currently lives in New York City
Friday, 13 July 2018
General submission guidelines for datura literary journal
Send five poems or artwork, three fiction, reviews, essays to mgversion2datura at gmail dot com. Previously published work OK as long as you give publishing background. Simultaneous submissions OK just make sure you tell me if your work is accepted elsewhere.
Write your full name and submission type in the header of your email. Name your attachment with latsname_firstname_title_datura. Make sure the title of the piece you send appears at the top of the page. No more than one poem per page.
Send all submissions in a txt, doc or odt file, attached to your mail. Don't copy/paste as formatting tends to get awkward, and hard to manage afterwards.
A short biography (very short -- essential only: where you are from (city, [state/province], country), a link to your blog/website, your latest publication...) is welcome but not necessary.
Read the former journal mgversion2>datura or the literary blogs Beakful or Urtica, and the books published through mgv2>publishing or Beakful and Urtica to get a sense of what I am used to publishing.
I don't retain any rights, your writing is your creation. You are welcome to cite the original publishing place in case you reprinted your work.
Submissions read year round. Response time may vary a lot. https://daturaliteraryjournal.blogspot.com/