A note on reading: If you are reading this issue on a phone you may find that switching to desktop view restores the intended structure and linebreaks of the broader poems.
Seen/Unseen (2024) by C.S. McIntire
Gallop is to Horse as Fall is to by Jane Zwart
Jack and the beanstalk by Simon Alderwick
Midwife’s Bargain by Christina Hennemann
My Headstone by Ronnie Sirmans
Making Crop-Circles by Damen O'Brien
Libation for Mother by Saraswati Nagpal
Manuka Honey by Patrick Wright
Ectopic by Aisling Towl
Mathematician by Jane Griffith
Pine Cones by Julian Bishop
Bats, from the Word-Cave to the Sound-Field by Laura Varnam
she wears an owl mask by Jai Michelle Louissen
The Gift by Caitlin Thomson
Oven Light by Sarah Alessandrini
the space between by Christopher Lloyd
Edges by Elizabeth Chadwick Pywell
Settlement by Zoe Davis
The Room of the River by Lauren Thomas
we are like the moon by Louise Longson
Bad Year by Devon Neal
all the rage by Henry St Leger
Rebirth by Charley Barnes
afterimage by D. Parker
all the boys that ever ghosted me/follow me on twitter by Luís Costa
Cosmic Derivative by Vikki C.
Only a Prayer, Nothing More by Meg Lubey
An ocean between us is by Samantha Landau
Leaving Again by Susanna Lang
Zurich's red kites of disappointment by Matt Gilbert
Sunday Afternoon by Will Cordeiro
Community. Sunset. by DS Maolalai
John Denver by Rachel Bruce
Welcome to Issue 11, we are delighted to bring you these poems, and the work of C.S. McIntire, whose painting, ‘Seen/Unseen’, adorns our cover.
Its use of a bright streak of sunshine yellow nestled in a hidden, uterine space leads us into a cluster of poems about childbearing, from Christina Hennemann’s vivid birth poem ‘Midwife’s Bargain’ to Louise Longson’s lunar exploration of the postpartum body in ‘we are like the moon’. There are losses connected with the female body to be found here, too: we were deeply moved by both the hysterectomy described in Patrick Wright’s ‘Manuka Honey’ as a blessing ‘(on the surface)’ and Aisling Towl’s heart-breaking depiction of enduring maternal grief in ‘Ectopic’.
The enclosed, secret space of McIntire’s painting can be found throughout this issue and we hope that you enjoy entering the tomb-like chambers of pine cones (Julian Bishop), the word-cave occupied by bats (Laura Varnam), and the room of the river where one can become invisible (Lauren Thomas). If you look closely at the cover image, you will see palimpsestic shadow-words appearing through the layers of paint, just as d. parker’s ‘afterimage’ plays with fading text that is simultaneously there and not there – seen and unseen.
Perhaps that yellow-orange light bursting from the canvas is that of the setting sun – the colour of ‘an often-read paperback’ – found in DS Maolalai's ‘Community. Sunset’, or the small glow of Sarah Alessandrini’s joyful and celebratory ‘Oven Light’. The poems in this issue are full of such illumination to be found in fleeting, domestic, or marginal moments; we are very pleased to be able to share them with you.
The Editors,
Tara Wheeler, Catherine Redford, Bhavya Bhagtani
C.S. McIntire
A self-taught painter, C.S. McIntire has exhibited pieces in juried gallery exhibits and solo shows throughout the greater San Francisco Bay Area. Born and raised in San Jose, California, he began creating and drawing at an early age. C.S. holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in advertising from San Jose State University. He previously worked as both a graphic designer and art director, where he merged freehand illustration with computerized layout and design. In addition to painting, C.S. also holds a Master of Science degree in speech pathology and audiology. He is a licensed speech-language pathologist and provides treatment and support for individuals with memory and cognitive impairments. C.S. McIntire is currently represented by galleries in California and Montreal, Canada.
Website: www.csmcintire.com
IG: @csmcintire