The Living and the Dead – Maggie Bloomfield

Based on a work by Aurelio Torres and the research of Ian Urbino

Like a cypress with two trunks

pillars ascend from the deep, 

holdm tangled wires of steel, 

a network of rusted cages symbolizing

the chaos and disregard for oceans-

 the Asian Pacific, 

the West African Atlantic.

 How seductive a life at sea–offering

 freedom, escape from lives destabilized 

by governments, laws, families,

guilt.

In the tortured spaces of these wires,

murder waits.

 Davey Jones Locker a morgue,

ocean outlaws, sporting 

dark fishing fleets, ghost boats.

Wishful fishermen,

naïve to the uncompromising greed 

of companies and captains,

are conscripted, trafficked, enslaved, 

sleep in caves beneath decks,

trawl 45 foot nets until their backs break.

Without enough squid or sea bass in their nets,

 sent below to die of scurvy

or meet a watery death along with 

 piles of unwanted sea life- fish, porpoises, 

coral reefs, trapped, tossed 

to the bottom of the world.

 Bodies of men and fish drift ashore,

discarded by illegal Chinese squid trawlers,

pollute Gambia’s once vibrant beaches,

left to become dust.

 We don’t think about Dark Fleets

while sunning on our pristine beaches.

Eating chilean sea bass, we don’t consider

the carbon footprint of thousands

 of unwatched, unmonitored

fishing boats.

These pillars reach up to the sky, expose

 the crimes, offer awareness, sunlight,

 hope

for a thousand Sea Shepherds,

Green Peace vessels,

to navigate the ravaged waters,

follow the black ships,  

burn their nets, bring criminals to justice, 

unwind and repair the world 

where lifeblood begins–

the magnificent sea.

Maggie Bloomfield

www.maggiebloomfield.com

Sentinels – Kathy Donnelly For Scott McIntire

 Each one, tall, carved, colored—

implying depth of character, 

an individual soldier sent to protect 

the weak, the soft, the fragile. 

They stand in perfect communion, 

responsible and strong, what ever

position they take in the field. 

Dedicated, perfect resolve.

I think of how the world would be

so very different if we all had 

protection around us, wrapped up

in a cocoon where harm could not 

barge in, threaten, malign, penetrate

through. Nothing to worry about, 

la-de-da, la-de-da. Our thoughts 

could go directly to our lives, our arts.

I think of the 7-year-old little girl 

who was traumatized beyond beyond.

I know her a little because I am 

reading her book. She wrote poetry.

Not able to tell her captors anything

about herself, not English speaking,

she was put into the hull of a slave ship, 

1700s, called the Phillis. That became 

her first name. Months later, scantily clad,

skin and bones, hungry and standing alone

on an auction block, she was purchased

for a small sum. 

John Wheatley was looking for a companion 

for his wife. They fell in love with her, treated 

her as family, educated her with their own

children, discovered a prodigy.  

Her poetry claimed her fame.  She published 

in 1773, Boston, London, became a figure 

in American literature. George Washington 

celebrated her writing, invited her to dine.

Absent of sentinels in her young life,

she found herself celebrated for her gifts 

most likely never found had she been 

saved the trip across the sea.

She writes this poem: 

“On Being Brought From Africa to America”:

TWAS mercy brought me from my Pagan land, 

Taught my benighted soul to understand

That there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too:

Once I redemption never sought nor knew.

Some view our sable race with scornful eye,

“Their color is a diabolic die.”

Remember Christians, Negroes, black as Cain,

May be refin’d, and join th’ angelic train.

Lacking those who would protect her 

from separation—home and family, 

angelic sentinels joined forces, 

an extraordinary job, later, as if planned.

I have felt protected at times in my life,

things that could’ve happened but didn’t.

I look at these wooden carvings in Scott 

McIntier’s sculpture, choose my angel 

to be the blue one!

Kathaleen Donnelly

Biography:
Kathaleen Donnelly is a 1976 graduate of St. Vincent’s, formerly in Greenwich Village, who works at StonyBrook Medical Center as a Nurse Practitioner in Cardiology. With a little help from her friends, she created three anthologies: Paumanok: Poems and Pictures of Long Island, Interwoven, and Transition. She strives to write poems you’d enjoy reading.

http://www.poetographyLongIsland.com

Seasons – Carolyn Emerson

In the dark underground,

a confusion of roots :

some in a state of dormancy–

a time of rest to conserve energy,

consuming stored sugars,

for survival in adverse weather.

For those still active,

whenever possible,

roots take up water,

gather nutrients;

leaves or needles

processing sunlight.

In the dark some sleep or

cogitate, speculate, deliberate

about plans for thriving

outside of chaos.

Sometimes it is the charred seeds

which at last, release new shoots,

while others wait for longer light,

then offer up bright, shiny sprouts.

What has grown out of chaos,

falls into a natural order,

as roots, stems, leaves intertwine

into a vibrant whole.

Karin Falcone

Biography: 

Writer, poet, advocate, gardener, chef, compulsive weeder, typewriter enthusiast, child of Hodge Podge Lodge, follower of the moon. Karin Falcone Krieger’s recent writing including reviews, stories and poems are in BlazeVOX, The Decadent Review, Tupelo Quarterly, LITPUB, Moonlighting, The Literary Review, Tofu Ink Arts Press, Viewless Wings Podcast, and in the anthology, A physical book which compiles conceptual books (Partial Press, 2022). She taught writing as an adjunct instructor for 20 years, and was an adjunct union representative. (Links to her recently published works are here.) She holds an MFA from The Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa Institute, now Naropa University, where she studied with Anne Waldman, Allen Ginsberg, Meredith Monk, Lynn Hejinian, Bobbie Louise Hawkins and others. She holds a BA in Social Sciences from SUNY Stony Brook, where she served as a writer and editor at The Stony Brook Press, the alternative biweekly newspaper, and was a deejay on WUSB 90.7 FM. She is the publisher of various chaps and zines including 1,000,000, an REM inspired zine, and artICHOKE.

In 2022 she became a Master Gardener through Cornell Cooperative Extension and volunteers in the demonstration gardens at CEED in Brookhaven, NY. Her project, Wild Working Gardens is dedicated to regenerating the soil through organic practices and teaching others to create gardens that provide food and flowers for all, including birds and butterflies. She has studied the works of Louise Riotte on the particulars of Astrological Gardening, using the moon to maximize beneficial practices and save effort in the garden. She writes a weekly newsletter to advise gardeners on the timing of their gardening activities to align with the moon phases and signs. She is available for virtual or in-person garden consultations and home cooking services on Long Island, NY.

http://www.karinfalconekrieger.com/

https://www.instagram.com/karinfalconekrieger/

https://karinfalconekrieger.com/about-2/

WONDER – Adam Fisher

Wow! I never expected to see

a large banner along the path

tied to two trees with leaves

and a person making their way

through the foliage as I am.

It prompts me to look

closely, side to side

at the vines and brambles,

the wonder of green,

the graceful shapes 

of leaves, smooth edged

saw toothed, shiny, matte, 

so many, so different,

astonishing though

so ordinary even turning

sunlight into food—magic! 

Yes, we live in a wonderland—

be ready.

Adam Fisher

Biography:
Adam D. Fisher, rabbi emeritus of Temple Isaiah, Stony Brook, NY is the author of numerous articles and two books of liturgy. He is also the author of a book of short fiction, and four books of poetry. He was the Poetry Editor of the CCAR Journal from 2006-2014.

Birthday, 1970 – Mary Francis Garcia

He reflected on his birthday
with wise gesture and
a witty sense of humor;
grace for himself, allowance
for errors as a means to learn
how to improve;
laughter, and charitable empathy
for those who had wronged
him long ago. He presently released
all that did not serve him as
he stroked his chin with
the crepe texture skin
of time, careful not to
tear the sacred membrane
of that moment, seated
with his legs casually
extended in the gentle
forest, surrounded in nature by
autumn’s golden splendor,
crisp yellow leaves beneath
his feet, he allowed now his joy
in creating with aluminum
to fully energize his body and soul;
he felt good, on this, his birthday, that in
quiet meditation, he had silently
chiseled a peaceful
place within himself.

Mary F. Garcia

Biography:
M. Frances Garcia, M.A., LMSW, is a social worker, contemplative poet, and photographer. She teaches English at Suffolk County Community College.

Instagram @PoetMaryFran

Russ Green 

Biography:

Russ Green, a graduate of Hofstra University, has served as co-editor at Great Weather for Media, and has run reading series and poetry and arts events around Long Island and NYC. In addition to hosting and curating poetry stages at various festivals, Russ has read his work in cities across America.

Serenity – Adam Greenwald

I listen to the soft whisper of the Almighty, as the ocean waves ebb and flow  across the shoreline. Calmness and clarity envelops my mind; heart ever so  pure. Eyes closed, my spirt soars through the sunlit sky, on winds that take  me beyond space and time.  

Freedom from worldly pleasures, humdrum happenings, loneliness, sorrow…  Escaping darkness, troubles and suffering that often leave a man or woman  destitute, without hope of Salvation. Indeed, I am weak in my flesh;  temptation has overtaken me. I’m inclined to fall victim to the trickery of the  serpent; traps set by my enemies.  

These feeble bones will one day decay. Inspite of fear, shame, regret,  despair… I vividly remember the cost of every single sin payed on the Cross.  Instead of condemnation, comfort fills my entire being with radiant love,  infinitely more brilliant and beautiful than anything I’ve ever been offered.  

I am no longer plagued by the inhumane conditions of this earthly realm. My  heavenly treasure awaits me; heaviness has become light. My once crooked  path is now straight. Joy is my portion, holiness is within.  

Completely conscious, forever free; I’ve been shown true mercy, experienced  His saving grace, gently held in the arms of CHRIST JESUS… Awakened to the  Glory of The Great I AM. Healed from infirmity, delivered from all filth and  wretchedness; my sins have been forgiven. Evil has been defeated.  

Adam Greenwald

Nippon Daisies – Bruce Johnson

Voyagers from the rocky shores of Honshu

come to set roots in the sandy soils

of Montauk, Freeport, Sea Cliff.

Immigrants, optimists,

settling in a new home,

taking on a new name, American name—

better to find acceptance.

Bold, bright flowers, perennial,

late but dependable bloomers,

adorning a garden of stunning profusion.

Who would not love you?

Bruce Johnson

Nothing Here Is Random – Nancy Keating

Arrange it
so these twigs these branches
rocks shells and recycled detritus
speak to me, I mean
arrange them
because you brought them together
who would never meet
except in dream or myth

there are no accidents
art is what you/I see
and what makes you/me see
and you/I see more than
we think
what do we see but gods and goddesses
of sea and forest
every cosmology has ancestors
and the idea of fate
the more we look the more
hallucinogenic these shapes
become and how familiar

you were two and in the backyard
clutching bits of shells
and stumbling after spiders
because you had to see

what do you/I love most
look as if for the last time

Nancy Keating

Biography:
Nancy Keating’s poetry has been seen in The South-Hampton Review, New Letters, Gettysburg Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, and  elsewhere. A three-time Pushcart Prize nominee, she has two books and a chapbook to her credit. She has an MFA from Stony Brook University and teaches at Farmingdale State College.

Bird Song/I Am – Mindy Kronenberg

After the light first emerged

Between swaying shadows of trees

outside the clouded window

where the unknown world

churned its breath

Before my own voice

Unfurled imagined music

I felt the air rife with sound—

Meek, then wild,

Swirling my crib, rising

In a wondrous spiral

Over my head, stars grown wings

Song summoning words

Feathered for flight

My heart buoyant with joy

My tongue seeking

The names of things

Waiting to be unleashed

In my burgeoning, beckoning life

Mindy Kronenberg

Biography:
Mindy Kronenberg is an award-winning poet, writer, critic, and professor, SUNY Empire State University, with work appearing internationally in hundreds of print and online publications. Her poetry has been featured in live performance/broadcast programming and in art installations. She edits Oberon poetry magazine and reviews books for Mom Egg.

https://www.pw.org/directory/writers/mindy_kronenberg

www.facebook.com/mindy.kronenberg.1

 – Mankh (Walter E. Harris III)

Mankh (Walter E. Harris III)

Biography:
Mankh (Walter E. Harris III) encourages people to learn from direct experiences, not just head knowledge. He is a small press  publisher and author of 17 books, traveling a holistic mystic Kaballah-rooted pathway staying in touch with Turtle Island and the cycles of the Seasons.

For the Sculpture – Haim Mizrahi  

Left alone in an age, distant from someone’s creation—
like an offering of loyalty,
adding tubes through the inner spears of coming together—
maybe as faith-sharers,
clearing the space designated to sing
the songs of impossibilities,
looking toward the key,
somewhat bleeping
under cover
and without shame.

Driven from estrangement, blinking backward—
into the revelation of shape and shadow.
The voice behind the strings vibrates—
joyfully silenced, ruled and welded
with throne and thorn.

A cooking trunk, rooted,
blessed fully—dreaming, shooting
the early signs of permanence
across the range:
from honesty to spectacle,
from trade to lovemaking—
a scene lasting
beyond the earth-moving drills.

Here you are,
with majestic tricks of the eye—
if the wondering eye
were hanging from a tree,
nesting,
an option never taken
at its most observant moment.

Observing from inner dampness, so blessed—
the earth of fertility.
Shining lights of hope,
honing forces in a casual afternoon—
a long one,
driven into the penetrated aspect of last breath,
cueing a ritual well-deserved—
to be the realized factor
of waving hands,
woven lastly
with mutual admiration.

Haim Mizrahi

Biography:

Haim Mizrahi is an internationally exhibited painter and poet who has hosted an arts interview show, “Hello-Hello,” at LTV in  Wainscott, Long Island, since 2000, and has shown his work and curated literary events at Ashawagh Hall in Springs, NY. His collaborative poetry book, Slipcover, was published in 2021.

https://www.instagram.com/haimmizrahiart/

– Tammy Nuzzo-Morgan

Tammy Nuzzo-Morgan, PhD

Biography:
Tammy Nuzzo-Morgan, Ph.D., founder and president of the Long Island Poetry & Literature Repository, was the first woman Suffolk  County Poet Laureate (2009 – 2011), the 2017 Walt Whitman Birthplace Long Island Poet of the Year, and Poet of the Month (October) for The Seventh Quarry Press, Swansea, Wales.

https://www.tammy-nuzzo-morgan.com/

nest of flames – Kelly Powell

two fledgling phoenix
jump from a nest of flames
feathered in harsh words
unrequited love and unrealizable
dreams and expectations
one wrapped inside
the other’s tiny scarlet
freshly broken wing
paralyzes
staring bravely ahead, stumbling
they emerge disoriented
wander needlessly
and repeatedly
back into the fire
tiny flames
greedily licking their feet
like confections
again and again
they return dazed
sleepwalkers, hypnotized
immortal

Kelly Powell

Biography:

Kelly J. Powell is a poet native to Long Island and a 1988 graduate of SUNY Binghamton’s Creative Writing Program. She has performed widely on Long Island and in NYC. She has a new book of poems called Posthumously Yours from Local Gems Press, available on Amazon.

A SCULPTURE WITH NO FORM – Tom Stock

HER FACE

She met with a Plastic surgeon
Sculptor of faces
Surveyed her skin
Used a pencil to draw lines
Nose, chin, cheeks, neck
Bags under her eyes
“$5,000 for a new life”
Three weeks later
The moment she’d been waiting for
To look in her mirror 
To see the beauty she wanted
He removed the bandages
Slowly she saw a new her
At a party, a man approached her
“May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
Sculpture changed her life

Tom Stock

Biography:
Tom Stock’s recently published third book of poems is Buffet. Stock is a poet of place with his first two books on the Pine Barrens and Fire Island National Sea Shore. He is poet-in-residence for an organic farm and the Hempstead Plains.

https://tomstock.org/

I Know a Blue – David Taylor

(after Dan Welden’s Optimistic Sphere)

I know a blue like a deep exhale,

water under an afternoon thought,

an azure noon over a forest,

A liturgy of asters and spiderwort,

an oath of sapphire and senses

to all that’s beyond me,

An iridescent cobalt of tuna,

a navy crest of kingfisher,

a nod to the teal and tones of scale and feather,

I know a blue like a sphere,

a hope of sky and water,

a rounded cerulean wish

And these indigo words in their hue,

sound and sight,

a blue to which I return, and perhaps,

you too return.

David Taylor

Biography: 

David Taylor is an Associate Professor and Faculty Director of the Environmental Humanities track in the Sustainability Studies Program in the School of Marine and Atmospheric Sciences at Stony Brook University. His writing crosses disciplinary boundaries and genres—poetry, creative nonfiction, scholarship, and science writing; however, at the core of his work is always a concern for environmental sustainability and community. 

https://www.stonybrook.edu/commcms/somas/people/_profiles/david-taylor.php

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=804500042&mibextid=LQQJ4d

Olivia Thirlby

I sing from where I merge
The inside space
Where the circles overlap
One, what is me
And the other, what is not
Forming between them
An impossible truth

I will search for endless ways
To decorate this secret room
Where I feel everything
Everything
That is mine
And everything too
That is beyond my purported end

I have beheld these walls in infinite ways
Hard and contoured
A bruise of purple earth
Dripping with blood
Or metallic and popping
Prismatic with light
Evaporating like a sparkler
In a child’s hand

I have felt it in a river
Sloshing and opaque
Between the pillars of the dock
And I have felt it on my knees
At the foot of redwoods
Weeping for all I want
I have felt it in my cells, splitting
And in my heart, breaking
I have felt it in my skin, burning
And in my chest
Pressed against a mountainside

I have felt it between bodies
All parts of them
And I feel it
New between each soul and mine
An oak, an altitude, a stranger in the crowd
I dissolve, emergent
Reconstitute of my pieces
Polishing the glass of me
Smelling my own scent
Through you
I follow myself home

 – Pramila Venkateswaran

Pramila Venkateswaran

Biography:
Pramila Venkateswaran, poet laureate of Suffolk County, Long Island (2013-15) and co-director of Matwaala: South Asian Diaspora Poetry Festival, is the author of many poetry volumes, the most recent being We Are Not a Museum (Finishing Line Press, 2022), winner of the New York Book Festival award.

Website: http://www.pramilav.com/

 – Chip Williford

Chip Williford

Biography:
Chip Williford is the Director/Co-host of Poetry Street, an online and in-person reading series, a writer and filmmaker, and an  advocate and activist for peace and human rights. His publications include Nassau County Poet Laureate Society Review,  Performance Poets Association Annual Literary Review, and The Sailors Review.

https://www.chipwilliford.com/about

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