Author: flareeditor

The Arrival of Medical Records

By Alexandra Daley

for my father

A stack of papers – evidence of time
dispensed alongside those like myself:
bodily fluids collected on one side, products
of misassembled phrens.  And there, standing
in the Italian Renaissance of our kitchen, I remembered
what you said: She has no remorse for her actions.
I know it was a lie not unlike the one I mouthed four years
back when I denied sliding the brailled plastic
to counter unbalanced emotions – the one
that signed my admission papers to the remedic place.
I’m sorry I never put needle and thread through
my blood pump, fastening it to my cotton-covered arm
for you to see.  I was hardened by tempered cables
no longer transmitting a signal – a mannequin.
Believe me now, I always heard the dull, quick sound
beating beneath the floorboards.

***

Alexandra Daley, a twenty-six-year-old Chicago native, is a freelance writer, editor, and bookkeeper who lives in Charleston, South Carolina. She is currently writing a poetry of poetry she plans to finish in 2014 and has been published by Dead Flowers: A Poetry Rag, Emerge Literary Journal, JMWW, Lingerpost, and The Oklahoma Review

The Stars Are Indifferent to Astronomy

By Zachary Lundgren

Half-naked and hungry against the backfence
I try to open you
with my mouth. It’s dark

until lightning leeches the air. Your left hand
vices my leg to the muscle. Drowning,
we let the water fill our throats.

The sky probably means something, but we don’t
look. There’s a dance we practice
down here, the only steps we care

to know – tracing our heels in the dirt,
these marks no one
will ever read

***

Zachary Lundgren received his MFA in poetry from the University of South Florida and his BA in English from the University of Colorado at Boulder and grew up in northern Virginia. He has had poetry published in several literary journals and magazines including The Louisville Review, The Portland Review, Barnstorm Journal, The Adirondack Review, and the University of Colorado Honors Journal. He was nominated for the 2012 AWP Intro Journals Award and was awarded the Estelle J. Zbar Poetry Prize in 2012. He is also a poetry editor for Sweet: A Literary Confection and a founding editor of Blacktop Passages.

Father Particle

By Clinton van Inman

Are you there, Father Particle?
Once perennial in purple robes
That golden nimbus, proud first principle
Perfect paragon, now the standard model
Once prime mover from Alpha to Omega
Now a charged particle from Nu to Zeta
Bosons whirling about in massive force
All quite symmetrical in their quantum course.

I looked for you as I poked through your ashes
Smashed to bits by the altar of atomic physics
They said you were no longer in the syllabus
Nowhere in the equations of analytic calculus
Yet I still hold onto your Platonic puzzle
And believe you are there somewhere, Father Particle.

***

Clinton van Inman was born in Walton-on-Thames, England in 1945, graduated from San Diego State University in 1977 with a BA in philosophy, and has been an educator most of his life.  Currently he is a high school teacher in the Tampa Bay area where he lives with his wife, Elba.      

Möbius Strip

By Joe Carvalko

As the centuries turned one into another,
we lost the gift of ancients
for hearing muted primal screams,
for seeing Munch’s faceless shriek—
the unmistakable precursors
of everything spiraling into darkness.
I did not see her wane
and wander in the whirligig of despair,
until they threw the keys away.
They took her to the place
where lights bounced-off
linoleum worn and polished,
behind metal doors
with a window—
a lock turned,
behind which people twirled, laughed,
lifted dresses over their heads
or sucked their thumbs and bawled.
I searched for tapestries
of blues, births, deaths,
that might yield clues
known to a prior life,
threads that lead to “why or where?”
But, like a skein of twine
wound into a möbius strip;
I can trace
neither.

***

Joe Carvalko, born in Bridgeport, Connecticut, writes across a wide variety
of genre including, fiction, poetry, science, technology and law. Most
recently he authored We Were Beautiful Once, Chapters from the Cold War
(Sunbury Press, 2013), a fiction inspired by a case Carvalko tried against
the U.S. government for an accounting of a Korean War soldier it claimed was
MIA. He authored The Techno-human Shell-A Jump in the Evolutionary Gap
(Sunbury Press, 2012), about how future medical technology will transform us
into part cyborg. Recently he co-authored The Science and Technology
Guidebook for Lawyers (ABA Publishing, May, 2014).  His poem “Registered
Letter” was chosen for publication in the anthology Proud to Be: Writing by
American Warriors, Volume 2 by the Missouri Humanities Council, Warriors
Arts Alliance, and Southeast Missouri State University Press (2013); The
Interior, a book of poetry, was a finalist for the Red Mountain Press poetry
award (2012); “The Road Home,” a poem was among three finalists for The
Esurance Poetry prize for (2012). His poetry has been heard at various times
on WPKN, a Pacifica radio network affiliate and veteran radio stations.
Earlier publications are: A Road Once Traveled, Life from All Sides (2007),
a narrative on the fabric of American life and A Deadly Fog (2004), poems,
essays and short stories about war in America. He has authored numerous
articles and academic papers. When not writing he teaches law and plays jazz
piano. 

I’m sorry

By Allison Hymas

I was distracted by the lemon
curd and did not see
the empty space between the mountains
and the state line,
or the mirrored city in the sky,
fireweed pink with the setting
sun.

***

Allison Hymas is a graduate student pursuing a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at Brigham Young University. She enjoy traveling, science, and writing about both.