SUBMISSION POLICY
Poetry (any form or style) and Micro or Flash Fictions wanted for an anthology on SMOKE. Not just the black clouds rising from the five-alarm fire next door, or the billowing plumes of smoke warning us of a forest fire, or the emissions from factory smoke stacks, apartment house incinerators, and crematoriums, smoke rings rise from cigarettes, smoke pours out of headshops, pipe shops & cigar stores--see that purple haze rising over the fields of poppies and marijuana we just planted--we've used it to communicate via smoke signals and skywriting, to cover our tracks and disappear with and without mirrors, combat the enemy on and off the battlefield, kill bugs, flavor food, cure illness, declare peace treaties, and fragrance our homes. Got the idea? Release it onto the page.
Guidelines: Submit up to three poems/micro fictions or two flash fictions at a time with a fascinating bio of 35 words or less, not just limited to publication credits, copy/pasted in the body of an e-mail (no attachments, please) to roxy533 at yahoo dot com & violetwrites at nyc dot rr dot com. We will also entertain up to six one-liners or 2 short stand up routines at time. Previously published work is OK as long as authors have retained the copyright, which will be returned to them after publication. Simultaneous submissions are encouraged. If your work is accepted elsewhere, and you still have obtained rights to republish, just let us know where and we'll be happy to acknowledge the other publication.
If you do not receive a response from us within a month of your submission considered it rejected and feel free to submit again. Due to the volume of submissions we cannot respond to each and every individual submission. Selection for the on-line edition are made on a ongoing basis as we receive your submissions. However, final selections for the print edition will made after the October 31st deadline. (In otherwords not everything that made the cut for the online edition will appear in print.) Please do not query. When in doubt, send the submission to roxy533 at yahoo dot com & violetwrites at nyc dot rr dot com.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Nicotine Riddles
She swaggers across the room, beautiful as Bob Dylan’s voice—
not pleasing to the senses, but searing to the soul.
She knows how to move in second-hand denim.
Her hair descends in scarlet cascades, tracing
the outline of the anime sketched on her t-shirt, a character
with each eyeball curled into the shape of a question mark.
She invites you to dwell on her mysteries, the ones
she can keep you from solving: even now she directs your gaze
to the frames of rimless shades—lenses both black and blank,
empty screens designed to shield you from the movies of her mind,
lurid documentaries on the years she had spent in hell
without once removing her leather jacket.
You watch her sauntering past stone-faced scene-makers,
the thin curve of her lips stopping just short of a smile.
She looks you over with unseen eyes,
regarding you, perhaps, as you had been regarding her:
the only intriguing piece of art on display in this insipid show-room,
this gallery of absurd postures and stunted poses—
this gauntlet of prom queens and party animals.
She continues her approach across the carpeted floor, brandishing
an unlit cigarette in a flourish of pale fingers and painted nails.
Her voice is a whisper, searching for the sound of a name.
She offers nicotine riddles in place of conversation, words
designed to hide their implications in the insinuations of smoke,
shades of meaning illuminated only by fire:
the inflections of light as you strike the match head
and she leans into your flame.
And then you burn.
by Craig Fishbane
Craig Fishbane has been published in the New York Quarterly, Flashquake and Night Train. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2008.
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nice smooth feel
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