Visitations, by Ron. Lavalette

visitations by ron lavalettee 3

Tomorrow/you can call me Smiley Nirvana;/Tomorrow I’ll be Karmic Bailout.
–“Metamorphosis”

In Ron. Lavalette’s collection, writing’s a bit like having visitations, in the form of seeing or hearing or soothsaying. It is to embody desire; to be brightened by the light of the sun and be dogged by its shadows. There’s a certain play on that. The desire for someone out of reach. The repetition of writing, or waking, like the sun rising and setting in a quotidian life. Ron’s poems come at you sideways, like a smirk. They’re not straight; as if the world needs to counter gloom with something yellow. His favorite tropes are the egg, the sun. His characters are not the Kates of the world. His stories are wonky–an endearing dark humor present yet light prevails.

Autumn, by Debi Swim

Download the collection here.

autumn and other poems by debi swim

Our lives are a journey toward what has always been waiting for us to find.
— “Élan vital — Evolution of My Soul “

Debi Swim’s collection is wonderfully evocative of place, of seasons, of aging and death, of familial stories, of self-questioning, of relationships with nature, people, animals and God. Most deeply the poems are embedded in belief, in the soul’s yearning. They address a fundamental question, what living means, touching both its philosophical and lyrical aspects. Her poems are characterized by metaphorical and descriptive richness, display a dexterity of language that is dazzling. A richly textured collection–poem after poem, she nails all the important themes.

The Poems of the Air, by Alan Walowitz

Download the collection here.

the poems of the air by alan walowitz

Nothing much ever happens here. But just enough so it feels like it does.
–“Fall River Transfer”

Whether it’s an accident, or a funeral, or a friend’s surgery, or a hailstorm, or a signage he drove past, Alan Walowitz’s poems take off from wherever it was, and juice it out in language, conversational, jocular, yet oozing with his inimitably wise, funny style. Nothing is more personal than his poems, and he doesn’t pretend otherwise. A poet who is wont to pay attention to an occasion like a wedding or an everyday moment–all becomes grist for his natural story-telling skills. His stories are tributes to people and events, from which you’ll emerge both entertained and enlightened. There will always be a glint of insight in them, if only, perhaps, a yearning for safety and home. These poems also feel much like denizens of New York City because that is exactly where home is.

PDF Release of Winter/Spring 2023 Issue 22

I am pleased to announce the release of the Winter/Spring 2023 Issue.

The poets with work in our final anthology are:

Christopher Hileman
Gale Acuff
Jeff Burt
George Freek
John Grey
Ron. Lavalette
Karla Linn Merrifield
Michael Minassian
Misky
Emalisa Rose
Emil Sinclair
Søren Sørensen
Debi Swim
Alan Toltzis
Alan Walowitz
Martin Willitts Jr
Robert Walton

You may download a copy of the PDF release here.

Winter:Spring 2023 Issue 22

Red Wolf will segue to publishing single author digital collections. You may read our submission guidelines here.

Irene Toh
Editor
Winter/Spring 2023

Resurrection, by Martin Willitts Jr

Resurrection
              “Pysanky” means “to write,” used in making Ukrainian Easter eggs
by Martin Willitts Jr

I make Ukrainian eggs for Easter, piercing an egg,
draining it out slowly.

I boil the eggs.
I paint traditional designs for the customary Easter program,
where I will carry the eggs to be blessed in church.

I have choices in pysanky eggs.
Some are talismans for prosperity, healing, or protection.
I use beeswax and dyes for my creations.

I could make an octopus star, called the “ruzha,”
or the rotating cross, the “svarga” to represent the universe.

I could use a vertical star to mean time —
the beginning and end, the alpha and omega,
the joy and suffering of the resurrection.

I could add the water symbol for lifegiving,
the force of nature, the cleansing,
the purification. All I need is a wavy line.

Or maybe, I should add the grapevine for renewal.

Meanwhile, a Ukrainian woman is picking up
the scattered pieces of her former life.
Her son was shot while trying to surrender.
The mayor was bound behind his back and shot.
Smoky ruins rise from her desperate hands.

She finds an unharmed egg the enemy missed
while ram-sacking her house, tossing empty bottles,
pulling out drawers, stealing her underwear.

Her front door is pulled off its hinges.
She scrounges some water, enough to boil the egg.
She chooses the sheep symbol for innocence
and boundless love — because, what else remains?

She carries the egg like a sacrifice, a prayer
for a future she cannot at the moment imagine.
She wears a babushka, tied as tight as a prayer.

She finds the shattered walls of the church
where she used to give confession.

She kneels slowly at the destroyed altar, and prays.
She prays for those dead, those wounded,
those who must go on without someone.

Although we are an ocean apart, we both pray
that the world will know justice and renewal someday.
I bring my eggs to the Ukrainian church to be blessed.

Martin Willitts Jr is a retired Librarian. He has 21 full-length collections including the Blue Light Award 2019, The Temporary World, Harvest Time (Deerbrook Press, 2021) Leaving Nothing Behind (Fernwood Press, 2021), Meditations on Thomas Cole’s Paintings (Aldrich Press, 2021,) Not Only the Extraordinary are Exiting the Dream World (Flowstone Press, 2021) and All Wars Are the Same War (FutureCycle Press, 2021).

Linked Haiku, By Martin Willitts Jr

Linked Haiku
By Martin Willitts Jr

*

cherry blossoms —
the absoluteness of dawn —
rivers to my heart.

*

Pink rose-light breaks,
pink anomies of five clouds,
calls to our skin: here!

*

A sweet-edged joy —
gladiolus — pink-yellow
tissues of our love.

*

Seedlings tell us
to plant them for much later
in memory-house.

Martin Willitts Jr is a retired Librarian. He has 21 full-length collections including the Blue Light Award 2019, The Temporary World, Harvest Time (Deerbrook Press, 2021) Leaving Nothing Behind (Fernwood Press, 2021), Meditations on Thomas Cole’s Paintings (Aldrich Press, 2021,) Not Only the Extraordinary are Exiting the Dream World (Flowstone Press, 2021) and All Wars Are the Same War (FutureCycle Press, 2021).

A Ruined Imagination, by Michael Minassian

A Ruined Imagination
by Michael Minassian

Riding in a boat
on land is never
a good idea.

To some, water is home
to others, a place to drown,
all eyes on the horizon.

Approaching the church,
the steeple winks
its crooked bell.

Trying not to make a sound
we recite the names
of God with our tongue,

hoping to see the face
she gave us before
we were born.

Michael Minassian is a Contributing Editor for Verse-Virtual, an online poetry journal. His poetry collections Time is Not a River, Morning Calm, and A Matter of Timing as well as a new chapbook, Jack Pays a Visit, are all available on Amazon. For more information: https://michaelminassian.com

The End of the World, by Alan Toltzis

The End of the World
by Alan Toltzis

          God destroyed Noah’s generation
          because the earth was full of petty theft.
                    Sanhedrin 108a

Alone, in the produce aisle, I pluck and palm
a single green grape,
the cool globe
smooth as a worn stone.
As if clearing my throat,
I cover my mouth and savor
a sweetly crisp explosion of flavor.
Theft worth less a cent. Drop
by drop insignificance,
surges unnoticed—a deluge
of unending violence, inundating
the last ark of honesty, afloat
in swarming swells of indifference.

Alan Toltzis is the author of two poetry collections—49 Aspects of Human Emotion and The Last Commandment—and two chapbooks, Nature Lessons and Mercy.  His poems have appeared in numerous print and online publications and he was runner up for the Thomas Merton Poetry Prize in Poetry of the Sacred. Alan serves as poetry editor for Dark Onus Lit and Poetica Publishing. After a lifetime in Philadelphia, he now lives in Los Angeles. Find him online at alantoltzis.com; follow him @ToltzisAlan.

The Cuckoo and the Warbler, by Alan Toltzis

The Cuckoo and the Warbler
by Alan Toltzis

The monotony of wings, of water, of life churrs
everywhere, when hunger coaxes a reed warbler
from her nest for a few moments.

Just like that, a cuckoo lays her dead ringer
of a speckled egg among three sister eggs.
Off she goes. And the warblers?

They suspect nothing. Minding four eggs
is as easy as three. But in two weeks
all hell breaks loose. The cuckoo hatchling

is first to crack out of its shell.
Each time the warblers leave their nest,
to collect food, the hellion’s ungainly body

and greedy soul transform into a bald,
blind, and feeble Sisyphus—rolling, pushing,
grappling with the eggs, one, by one, by one.

This murderous combination of disloyalty
and disguise will not be denied until the first egg,
perched on its scraggly scapulae breaches

the top of the nest. A final crazed push
hoists the first of the warbler eggs up and over.
It plops into the water below and bobs away.

Each egg of betrayal becomes easier to toss.
With one mouth to feed, the cuckoo dwarfs
its parents, full-grown in two weeks.

Still, they continue to feed their demon
until the nest’s integrity overflowing with deceit,
collapses under the burden of deception.

Alan Toltzis is the author of two poetry collections—49 Aspects of Human Emotion and The Last Commandment—and two chapbooks, Nature Lessons and Mercy.  His poems have appeared in numerous print and online publications and he was runner up for the Thomas Merton Poetry Prize in Poetry of the Sacred. Alan serves as poetry editor for Dark Onus Lit and Poetica Publishing. After a lifetime in Philadelphia, he now lives in Los Angeles. Find him online at alantoltzis.com; follow him @ToltzisAlan.

A Winter Vignette, by Debi Swim

A Winter Vignette
by Debi Swim

Sometime after midnight it was to start
I stayed up late to see the first
chunky flakes blowing quietly, crosswise
across the ground.
Fir trees wavered and through the gaps
a moonstone glow shown dim.
Soon the tool shed roof was covered
the yard disappearing from view.
I lingered in the beauty and splendor of
this white out. Somewhere, off in the woods
a hound bayed, tracking a raccoon, I guess.

I prayed for all God’s little wild creatures
everywhere in the cold
and trundled off to a warm, quilted bed.

Debi Swim has had poems published in two anthologies and in the Bluestone Journal for Bluefield College. She is a persistent WV poet who loves to write to prompts.