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Showing posts with label Maggy Roza. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maggy Roza. Show all posts

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Edition Four.

Today some new art from our first photography submission. Then a beautiful poem from a friend. Remember we always welcome new submissions: westegg.publishing@gmail.com

My Hair


Dad

Ana Morales first began taking pictures in 2004, when she took an "Intro to Photography" class at a community college. She enjoys making the outrageous beautiful, and the beautiful outrageous. More of her art can be found on her website: www.ana-luisa.com

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I remember you
                         after Flavius J. Fisher
Maggy Roza

The sun sets in a burst of color,
settling into the hills
the way I sank into your arms, the way
you gave yourself to me, the way you held
my hand as if you were afraid
I'd float away,

the nights we spent together
on Fisherman's Wharf, telling no one,
knowing everything, the way your passing
glances made me feel
          on fire             in harmony
doused in the light of God or the Devil,

and I don't know what the birds sing
at dusk in the swamp, because all I hear
           is your name
spreading like rings on the water,
      in my veins          in my mind
how  I wanted to shout that I loved you

but I was afraid of the echo, the way
the sun is afraid, the way it sets
in a burst of color
because every time might be its last.


Maggy is a poet from Sacramento, California. She has four siblings, idolizes Jack Kerouac, and despises Southern hospitality. She plans one day to write a punk rock opera.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Edition One.

1. Trouble in Eden
Jerry Wells

God wants you to know that he left
a crate of peaches on the front stoop.

He would tell you himself but you're
away and he doesn't like to leave

messages. He said you haven't spoken
to him much lately. Maybe peaches

are the real route to a woman's heart;
He would know, He always does.

It's not like you to forsake
Him like that. I know

you have your reasons,
you always do.

Your sheets fell off the line
the other day. I put them back for you,

I hope you noticed. They smelled like you.
That scent hasn't seen

my side of the Garden
since you left. I hope you

write back, either to me or God.
He worries, you know.


Jerry is a Junior at Randolph College majoring in English. He is also a member of the cross country team.

2. Daddy Issues
Maggy Roza

My dad packed his bags in late October and slammed
the door as he left. We watched him climb
into the passenger seat of Coach Mulligan’s white Suburban

through a crack in the blinds, and all Mom would say

as she stared at our lunchboxes
was that he was going to Chicago.

The first time a boy hit me,
I thought I was dreaming. People just don’t do that anymore,
I thought,

but he slapped me with the back of his hand
and his football ring sliced my cheek.



I watched the goldfish on my therapist’s desk drift in sickly circles.
She said that men would always be a challenge for me. She said

I’d have a hard time trusting them,

because my dad had never been a good dad, and it
was natural to choose men like my father.



Now it’s all I think about. I watch a girl in the mirror
at a party, rubbing up on a jock, and all I see are
daddy issues wrapped in a mini skirt.


Maggy is a poet from Sacramento, California. She has four siblings, idolizes Jack Kerouac, and despises Southern hospitality. She plans one day to write a punk rock opera.


3. juicies
ebm700

plum..p!
swollen
taut
begging me to
bite in
and eagerly
rip and tear
no care
only the need to
release
pour
into me
its ripened gift
and its grateful sweet sigh…

peach..y!
cleaved
to reach
its tiny pit
perfect
protected
in fleshy folds
pry
and try
with curious tongue
to tempt the bit—
shy
but yearning
to be exposed
encouraged
to finally meet
its devourer—
and yield…

cherry, cherry
toy and play
swirl and twirl
on sassy stem.
rouge red
stain on them—
the lips
that dare to take…

ebm700 is a woman of a certain age, musician, bodyworker. She enjoys her view of the river and the world, from her tiny turret in the city.