Editors’ Choice, Sept 27 – Oct 3, “Sack and Hammer,” by Kristin Fullerton

For all the joys of love, we know the bittersweets and melancholies. We strive, we reach out. Things run awry. Here’s a glimpse of that sweet sorrow from Kristin Fullerton.

The spring rains weep
the backyard into a stream:
a scene fit for an accidental drowning.
For forty years, we have danced
around this stage and I hope
you will forgive me,
but I am tired, so goddamned tired.
Everything with you,
despite my fervent prayers,
must be hidden or destroyed.

My exhaled breath becomes
a bright copper penny, dropped
among the green dicots
of the black walnut tree.
It is my childish way
of praying for you to come find me,
if you care enough
to send a search party.

Bark mouth, mud eyes, abandoned
bones, I have been
the walnut shell in your burlap sack
and faced the fury of your claw hammer,
believing in the beauty of being broken
to be harvested.

I once even imagined
I could become
the rushing water
in your slurry of husks and gravel,
your dutiful farmer.

But the painful truth
is that I am too bitter
to be pulled in close enough
to be healed.
I am, and have always been,
one of the many yellow harvested
hulls, too toxic to compost
next year’s garden.
My kind of love,
passive, plaintive and poisonous
keeps most living things
away from your beautiful black walnut tree.

Kristin Fullerton lives in upstate New York. She is a proud alumna of both Elmira College and University at Albany. Previous work has appeared in Devilfish Review, Maine Review, Panoplyzine, and Zetetic.

For last week’s Editors’ Review, please visit:

What the Breeze Brings – Steven Deutsch

Issue 16, Summer – Autumn, 2020

Issue 16 Masthead ArtPhoto courtesy of and copyright ©2020 Ryn Holmes.

Welcome to Issue 16! We hope you have remained hale and healthy through this crazy time of year. Loaded with verbal endorphins, this issue should help you maintain your artistic and spiritual health. 

One thing we continue to learn is how permanent art is in our lives. Sometimes we overlook it; sometimes we misunderstand it; sometimes it moves us profoundly. With all the basic underpinnings of art and the human condition, expressions change, formats change, and so on. But what lies beneath the white spaces, the compositions, the rhythms and contours, is that eternal element of what it means to be alive. 

So whether today finds you up or down, ecstatic or forlorn, attentive or distracted, remember that the world of art, of human expression and interpretation, with all its crazy mutations and side tracks, will be with you always. 

Here’s a tiny utterance among the eternal voice, with thanks to our contributors, whose words breathe life into our days. 

Make it a great day. Stay healthy!

Best wishes,
Andrea, Jeff, and Ryn

 

Contents

#11Ann Pedone
After Crossing the International Date LineK Roberts
As Kids Back Home –  Mark Madigan
Barroom Dust –  Ana M. Fores Tamayo
Bell the CatEmalee Long
BuckboardMary Anna Kruch
Calendar Pages YellowingSteve Gerson
Can You Download Whatsapp So We Can Text While I’m HereJimmy Fay
Cleaning Helga’s GraveKevin Ridgeway
Cream No SugarMichael Estabrook
Cyclic ConvulsionsCasey Roland
DawnlessnessNancy K. Jentsch
DramaEdward Kos
EulogyJoel Fishbane
Fall DinnerMartina Reisz Newberry
Father’s Foreign CarsGabrielle Grilli
FissureSyd Shaw
Grandma’s SongIrene Fick
The High PriestessSherre Vernon
His words are plumpSabina Khan-Ibarra
The History of EmptinessJack Ritter
I love what you did with your eyelinerSambhranta Bashy
I Went WestBen Mast
In the occasional contact with lifeM. Ait Ali
JeromeSally Vogl
JiM “80”Max Heinegg
Let My People GoMark Hammerschick
Letter to My Iranian LoverAlicia Viguer-Espert
Marvelling Upon Your Rouge Halo –  Andrew LaFleche
Melody in Shades of BlueSophie Foster
moonlit eveVictor Pambuccian
My dead father visits me on my birthday every yearScott Ferry
My Window (Champaign, Illinois)Gerald Friedman
Network OpportunityTobi Alfier
No EscapeElya Braden
Old Man Winter on the MarshStephen Scott Whitaker
On Reading “Skeleton Keys” by Brian SwitekRoberta Schultz
One hundred dollarsMichael Griffith
Orpheus Calls Their BluffJulian George
PenitenceBrigidh Duffey
PorcupineDave Gregory
post newtonianAlan Gann
Prowl Me GentlySarah Pobuda
Robot FactoryPatrick T. Reardon
Sack and HammerKristin Fullerton
The Sermon: First Baptist, 1988James Miller
Solanaceae BattlesFrank Babcock
SoundtrackGena Killion
StealingMichele Randall
This Flag Is Not Waving Jack Mackey
Tongues of FireAnn Howells
Unwilling/Vacillating/WaitingScott Wiggerman
We could use poems right nowHari Bhajan Khalsa
What Are You Glittering About? –  Marianne Lyon
What the Breeze Brings –  Steven Deutsch
Writing NightRobert Nisbet
The Winding Road of Sunshine and SnowDaniel Paton

 

 

Preview of Issue 16 (Stats Geek)

The Stats Geek will not be deterred! Here are the results for Issue 16, due on September 4. 

Fifty seven total pieces, 30 from men, 26 from women, one from they/them. Nineteen US states are represented, with CA lead with 12 contributors, Texas with 5. We will publish nine pieces from six countries, with three Canadians. We welcome our first contributors from Morocco and Nepal. Fourteen contributors are returning in Issue 16.

Cumulatively, we have published authors from 48 US states (holding steady) and 36 foreign countries. 

This is a particularly strong and diverse issue! We hope you will read it, congratulate our contributors, and share the good news with friends! 

Issue 17 is due in early May and will likely be a themed issue. Between now and then, we expect to publish another chapbook review. 

Oh, and if you can, please consider making a donation to our all-volunteer effort. Bandwidth ain’t cheap!

Stay healthy and make it a great day!

Andrea, Jeff, and Ryn, Editors Continue reading

Chapbook Review, “Clerk of the Dead,” by Alan Perry

CvrClerkofDead

Review of Clerk of the Dead, by Alan Perry
Main Street Rag Publishing Company
ISBN: 978-1-59948-800-4
43 pages
$12
Submitted by Jeff Santosuosso, June 2020

Alan Perry

When you open your chapbook with an allusion to Magritte, you’re preparing your readers for something remote and unexpected. Yet the images are so basic, so recognizable even in their surprising and thought-provoking assembly. Juxtaposition and composition tweak the imagination and challenge the concept of convention.

So Alan Perry has challenged our tangible concept of life and death, body and spirit, action and memory. This is a book about physical absence, yet underpinned by non-physical presence, lasting if ephemeral connection. Things, particularly people, are lost, invisible, or merely remnants of their original, tangible selves. But their effect remains. This collection is no random ramble of a Dali or Miro. Rather, as Perry himself offers, it reflects, “the lightness and accessibility of Billy Collins, the familiarity of Ted Kooser, the natural world of Mary Oliver; the humanity and family themes of Linda Pastan, the mystery and heaviness of W. B. Yeats.”

On its surface, the chapbook is dedicated to the titular theme: death and its chronicle. That thread runs through every work, but the impact is far from grief or depression. There is loss, notable loss, painful loss, but there is also reflection, perspective, and wisdom.  Those, along with the airy and implicating diction, generate a sense of calm and reassurance that carries the reader from first to last.

“Weatherman” kicks off the work to make Magritte proud. Humanity and nature are inverted, replacing each other. Which is which? Man is lost, unfound. That theme is step one along this left-foot, right-foot journey of the physical and metaphysical. The classic student/teacher relationship of knowledge and communication follows in “You Speak to Me.” There is a body; there is a voice; there is knowledge. There is also the aura of the person. This classic image of knowledge everlasting is fixed, at least for a few moments in the poem, while the message endures, indivisible from the messenger.

“A Bookmark in Her Bible” touches on sacrifice and loss, disruption in the family, faith. “Witness,” in three parts, begins with a witnessing followed by a prayer, then contemplative interpretation and afterthought. The speaker is yearning for some type of redemption. He insists on meaning, something permanent, if intangible. People exist and interact; things happen, finally separate; but significance must prevail. Here’s one implicit example of how Perry’s work attaches itself to our better angels, inspiring us to continue.

“Aspiration” may be the keynote piece of the work. This poem mentions death directly, both as an event and as a poetic topic. With his lightness and humanity, Perry reflects the natural world, the human presence, the physical exit, and the tenderness that sustains us. It concludes with this simple image:

… a curtain coils the moment
when his soft curled hands
are squeezed once more
and then are still.
 
The piece is about a poet, specifically a clerk of the dead, wrestling with things and words, striving for presentation, representation, and meaning. He will meet his own end. It is the gift of time on the Earth, the physical opportunity, that promises transcendence. Here, writing is the capturing, or rendering of the self and the world, the poet’s means of seizing the opportunity before his body perishes.

“One Day In Dallas” takes the global historical event and personalizes it as closely as the blood on Jacqueline Onassis’ dress. “Rounds” depicts a mass shooting, an awful cycle, before segueing to a natural image. “The sapling/ … has no idea of what’s coming.” “Foreclosing” portrays failure and decline, but comforts us “where a foundation hugged the earth.” Emphasis on “foundation.” “Brotherly” brings us the agony of Parkinson’s. “Cloud Bank,” a tearful reading of an obituary, reminds us that “In the cloud/nothing ever dies.” As bittersweet as it is, memory keeps us close.

Perry dwells on water with “Holes” and “Rain.” In the first he observes, “Nothing comes out of the water,” while in the second, he laments complete separation and lack of access. It concludes,

the calm that seems to survive
lies in a storm cellar,
but without a key to unlock it
from the inside.

We are locked in our calm? Quite a notion. Yet we cannot unlock it to release it! This is the paradox of separation, of writing. We wish to impart, but the essence of the message is locked inside. All we have are proxies and words.

But that can be enough! The collection’s first section concludes with the title piece, describing the speaker’s relationship, remote as it may be, with his subjects/objects. He realizes his role is his duty. He chronicles the departed “as if to say/’thank you.’” This is no facile submission. No, by now Perry has earned the right to use his direct language.

The second section, though similar to the first, follows a wider variety of imagery. We see souvenirs, flowers, kitchen measuring utensils. We celebrate dawn, consider rocks, visit another mass shooting, confront a copse of trees. “By Heart” charms us with a tale of yore, a simple legacy of cooking and recipes. These flavor the food, tingle the taste buds, and caress the memory. The insistence to deny measuring tools is more than stubbornness. It’s a metaphor for intuition, intimacy, and interaction. He dedicates “A Quiet Occurrence” to Mary Oliver, rich in evocative silences, a fine reflection of the master’s gifts.

“Closure” presents us with the metaphor of baggage. Perry laments,

Every day I weightlift
the quiet grief that stuffs
a briefcase I carry
from this place to the next –
not sharing its contents
with those who can’t see
me drifting away.

This section’s highlight, a counterpoint to the individual death in “Aspiration” is “The Weight of Rock.” With clear references to the Judeo-Christian tradition, Perry fixes our attention on headstones. They are not mere rocks, of course! Once again, Perry has earned the right to introduce this familiar image and theme. By now, we empathize fully, feel fully “people praying/for the weight to be lifted.” Spanning millennia and continents, the grief and search for peace are universal. Perry expands the individual struggle with eternal.

Ever-faithful, Perry follows the painful hollow of that piece with “Bequest,” including a quotation from Whitman. The piece is full of promise, a look back at the great sage and a look forward for poets to come. On its face, it’s about paper, ink, writing, poems. Subtly beneath it all, it’s about how, with all its approximations and imperfections, poetry illuminates its subject and releases new beauty to the reader. It’s a covenant fulfilled.

With grace and humility, Perry concludes the work by telling us what we’ve already come to know. He compares us as individuals to snowflakes:

Each one a unique countenance,
like a snowflake found
nowhere else, coming down
to touch the earth
and become it.

These are simple words, simple images. Perry’s text rides on implication, innuendo. The poetry paints in positive and negative space, with plenty of room for the reader’s active engagement. Pay attention, the writing is so graceful at times that you don’t even know exactly how it is you feel the way you do. How’d that happen? Where’d that happen? That’s the subtlety of the poetry. Introduced in the context of death, Perry’s words bring us to life. We live and die as individuals, mortal, corrupted, yet universal, transcendent.

For previous chapbook reviews, please visit: Previous Chapbook Reviews

Issue 15, Spring 2020, “Paper” Theme

issue 15 masthead (11e)

Photo courtesy of Ryn Holmes. © 2020 Ryn Holmes.

Welcome spring! And welcome to Issue 15. Our theme for this issue is “Paper.” We encountered some lovely, expansive interpretations which we hope you’ll enjoy. While the world is abuzz with constraint and restraint, we hope this respite rejuvenates your spirit and lessens any burden you bear.

Once again, we tout the artistry of Editor Ryn Holmes, whose original photography graces our masthead. Pretty inventive and quite original!

It’s been a strange spring. We do hope this finds you healthy and fit, in all senses of the words. Some of us are facing difficult circumstances. We send what we can: our deep love and support. Take your solace, faith, and hope where you can find it and make it. We look forward to seeing you again for Issue 16 and beyond. 

As always, we thank our readers and contributors. Peace to you.

Stay healthy.

Andrea, Jeff, and Ryn, Editors

Contents
Anonymous – Pavle Radonic
Aphasia – Anna Winham
Armchair Tourist – Sandy Deutscher
Body Memory – Karen George
Censoring Letters Home – Jim Ross
Cleaning House for Mother and Me – Karen Mandell
Future Textbooks – Warren Woods
The Grey Heron – Mark Heathcote
A Heads-Up Dream for Peace – Mark Blickley
I am – Mandira Pattnaik
In the Wind – Hugh Anderson
Inheritance – Dorian Kotsiopoulos
A Lesson in Colors – Kimberly Williams
Making Books at Hull House – Cynthia Gallaher
Making Do – Michele Waering
My First Poem, Age 12, For Sharon – Steve Gerson
My Mother Reads the Obituaries Out Loud – Susan Barry-Schulz
Nakamura Lock – Rich Renner
Ode to the Tree – Deonte Osayande
On Reading the Sky Between Essays – Vivian Wagner
On transcience – (Rizla™) – Henry Bladon
Paper Skin – Alan C. Smith
A Poet Reads on Instagram – Aileen Bassis
The Poet’s Writing Shed – Robert Nisbet
Polish Dining Ring – A Msou
Précis – Betsy Mars
Prosthetics – Brian Rihlmann
Sharing My Canoe – William Doreski
Snail Girl – Chuka Susan Chesney
Spaghetti – Samn Stockwell
Thin Sheaf – Susan Tepper
Tit for Tat – Lindsey Heatherly
Uncharted Waters – Christine Rhein
Underneath Your Sleeve Sketches – Roz Weaver
Uproot the Hobbling Magic – Hibah Shabkhez
Venus Did What? – Karla Linn Merrifield
Weeks of Repetition – Sudanshu Chopra
Writing Space – Angela Weiser
Yellow Wallpaper* – Holly Van Hare

Issue 14, Winter – 2020

(184

Photograph © 2019 Ryn Holmes

Welcome to Issue 14. For those of you returning, we thank you for joining us once more. For you first-timers, we hope you enjoy what you find here. One special feature of posting an issue just after New Year’s Day is that we compile it over the holidays, smack-dab in the middle of the season, our spirits growing and flowing. It’s a gift to and from so many, and the warmth it brings to us is one of the highlights of the holidays.

You may have noticed we switched our masthead theme from flowers to abstract photography by Co-Editor Ryn Holmes. Pardon the plug, but it’s fascinating, innovative stuff. You’ll see more of these as the issues continue.

Meanwhile, Issue 14 should keep you artistically occupied and satisfied. We tend to see motifs from issue to issue. One of this one’s is women’s experience and consciousness, particularly as girls become women. Not all is princessing, it’s clear. But the art is just as sparkling. Naturally, the fine work here covers a, dare we say it, panoply of subjects, something for everyone.

We must admit that due to a glitch in our submissions process, we received far more submissions than usual, a good problem to have! That helps explain why we’ve included more contributions than usual. They’re all so deserving and gleaming.

Thanks again for your support and attention. 

Best wishes,

Andrea, Jeff, and Ryn, Editors

Table of Contents

2059: Cut Off – Alan C. Smith
Airness – Pablo Saborío
Apollo 11 – Sharon Scholl
Augury – Greg Friedmann
Being Made Ready – Maria Berardi
Beneath My Feet – Sarah Valeika
The Birds – Ian Ganassi
Borrowed – Sean Bolton
A Child Says Morning – Max Heinegg
Civilized – Daniel Edward Moore
Crumbling – Stephen Ground
Dawn By The House of Stone That Jack Built – Vassilis Zambaras
The Days We Meet – R.T. Castleberry
Dying in Paradise – Christy Bailes
Endurance – Molly Fuller
Exit Wounds – Andy N
Feeling Empathy Outside of Santa Maria del Fiore – Adam Webb
Fell in Love with You – John Grey
Finches Prefer Chopin Raymond Byrnes
Half Light – Doug Bolling
Hard Jazz – DS Maolalai
He’s Dead – Patricia Walsh
Heather in Bloom, Morning – Gerald Kells
A House of Your Own Making – James Diaz
In Line at Banco Central – Tim Hawkins
In Memory of An All-Girl Band (A Cento) – Andrew Sunshine
In the Fog – Steve Klepetar
Is Your Forgetfulness Normal? – Barbara Daniels
Kitsch – George Franklin
Last Days of JuneCorbin Louis 
The Last Voyage – Howie Good
Leave-takings – Robert Nisbet
Lines Composed on First Regarding Godzilla after An Uneasy Serenity of Fifty Years Bruce Robinson
Lullaby for a Politician – Jennifer Bradpiece
The Made and the Unmade – Carolyn Adams
The Music at Montreaux – Matthew James Friday
My English Teacher – Michael Minassian
My Mother’s Ghost Knits a Scarf of Chain – Robert Okaji
Mystery Confirmed – Megan Wildhood
Near Salt River Road: An Elegy for S.D. – Rita Chapman
Nectar – Christopher Wilson
No end to wonder – Hugh Anderson
Pantoum of the Thoughts That Have Been Turning Over in My Head Since I Moved Out a Month Ago – Jacob Bennett
Pareidolia Megan Merchant
Parallax View – Betsy Mars
Pathing – Vivian Wagner
Patriot’s Chain – Anthony Dennis
peace has its season – Disha Trivedi
Pink Bee – Cliff Saunders
an excerpt from “A Place, A Feeling, Something He Said To You” – Alexandra Naughton
Playing Guitar at Ritter Park – Ace Boggess
[A position we’ll all get] – Blake Francis
Praying Mantis – Penelope Schott
Raven – Kathryn Jordan
Record Low – Russell Rowland
Refugee/fugitive – Sean Urbina
Salsa – Jacob Butlett
Sarabande – Robert René Galván
She Takes a Taxi – Gemma Cooper-Novack
Shifting, Too Anxious to Be Fully Aware – Jonathan Yungkans
That Other Guy – Lenny DellaRocca
This can’t be right – Giovanni Mangiante
Time Flies – John O’Hare
Tuesday in the Home Town – Tom Willemain
Two – Nitya Gupta
Vasculitis – Jared Pearce
Violation – Claire Massey
Warren’s Weathered Barn – Keith Moul
We’re Just Talking – Melissa St. Pierre
What Jesus did do – Dennis Finnell
What Words Cost – Sandy Coomer
When a ’54 Fender Stratocaster Becomes a Fetish – Karla Linn Merrifield
When Coburg Lake Became a Kyrenia Wedding – Angela Costi
Wildfires in Iraq – Sarah Mills
You Cannot Strike a Bargain – Nancy Levinson

Pushcart Prize Nominees for 2019

Please join us in congratulating this year’s nominees. We hope you have and will enjoy their work as much as we have. Check them out – we’re sure they have plenty of additional fine work. 

Being a Bishop – RC deWinterRC DeWinter

At The Scottish Gallery a Baobhan Sith Takes a Pass on a Local Vicar – Linda KennedyLinda Kennedy

Bottled Ship – Aris KianAris Kian

Artisan – Karen McAferty Morris Karen McAferty Morris

Lazarus Explains – Bruce McRaeBruce_McRae

What a Middle Name Is – Liam Strong Liam Strong

 

Issue 13, Summer – Autumn, 2019

IMG_5587 purple flowers

Photo by Andrea Walker

Greetings in summer! We hope that during the heat of the season, you took time to savor the simple beauty of things. They abound! Issue 13 abounds with simple beauty as well, for which we thank our contributors. This issue includes an unusual number of longer pieces, many pop culture allusions, and a higher quantity of pieces with real attitude, verging on irreverence! As usual, we think you’ll enjoy the wide variety of themes, styles, and voices.

Look for Editors’ Choices weekly beginning in September. We’ll also have a new chap book review and our annual nominations for the Pushcart Prize, a real highlight for us all. Thanks for reading Panoply. Stay cool and reverent.

Best wishes,
Andrea, Jeff, and Ryn, Editors

Table of Contents

13th and Island Detox Robert Rickelman
After 10 days roughnecking Oklahoma oilfields – Steve Gerson
After a Revolution – Susan Tepper
Agony of the Leaves – Blaise Allen
And So She Missed Early Spring – Amy O’Hearn
And Then She Walks Away – Kathleen Hogan
Avalon – Patricia Nelson
Before Sweat Had a Name – Katherine Hoerth
Bottled Ship – Aris Kian
Burial Site – Remi Recchia
Cactus Flower – Tova Feldmanstern
Chasing Grace – Lauren Scharhag
Coughing at the Wake – Linda Johnston Muhlhausen
Cynthia – Lenny DellaRocca
Daughters, spring – Arlyn LaBelle
Day 63 – Robert L. Penick
Dream Back – Timothy Pilgrim
A Dress to Die ForSarah Brown Weitzman
The Epicurean Candidate – Nick Romeo
Epiphany – Sheila Black
Faye Taking a Breath – Rikki Santer
Feeder – Max Heinegg
Generations Heeling – Greg Maddigan
Green Pastures – Seth Grindstaff
Grief in 3 Years – Nicole McCaffety
hatchlings – Leo Levinsky
Hermits – Jessica Sommerfeldt
How to Live Stoned – Bob Hoeppner
It’s Aye Been – Carol Stewart
Joint Custody – Sherri Wright
Knock, Knock. Who’s There? Blasphemy, Who? – Jennifer Maloney
Learning by Heart – Laura Foley
Linnets – Hilda Weiss
Looking for Tommy Underwater – Zack Hutchinson
lord and taylor – Wayne-Daniel Berard
Loug Kya Kahen Gay – Laiba Fatima
Love Letter to the Blues Adrian Potter
Museum Diana Donovan
My Block of Time Barbara Crane
My Way Patricia Carragon
The One Who Always Gets Away Philip Kobylarz
Outer Banks Beach Ed Ahern
The Palm Reader of Hempstead Gianna Sannipoli
Pass Chad W. Lutz
Perfect Date Night Lucas Shepherd
Why We Stopped in Petra Andy Oram
Protected Frances Koziar
Reflection Laura Johnson
Reindeer Beards Susan Kay Anderson
The Return Karen McAferty Morris
road-house Stephen House
Silver Robert Nisbet
Snowdonia Alan Parry
Stranger Jason Emde
Suburban Wild Joanne Furio
Summary in Free Verse 2 Ann Mikusinski
Synesthesia Gage Crowder
There Were So Many Apples Elena Nailyevna
These Days Erika Noel Johnson
Through the Keyhole Christie Marra
Understory Stephanie L. Harper
We Were Sitting by the River Alec Solomita
What a Middle Name Is Liam Strong
Window Mzwandile Poncana
Windows Taught Us One Thing Jonathan Yungkans
you lift your finger carefully as if heavy with paint Kate LaDew

Issue 12, Spring/Summer 2019

Old Stuff 049

Photo by Andrea Walker

Spring has sprung throughout North America. Trees have been in bud here in Pensacola for a few weeks now, the joy of rebirth and renewal. Our contributors renew our own spirits, and we hope they renew yours as well! 

Once again, we happen upon bunches of work that touch on certain themes. Coincidence is nearly a rule here at Panoply! Issue 12 features a clutch of poems about sex; another about family; another about home towns, both current and former. And of course, there are a host of other wonderful works on a variety of other themes, all flowing with art and wonder. We hope you enjoy the issue!

Issue 13, unthemed, is scheduled for publication around August 23, with our Call for Submissions, July 5-28. We’ll update our announcements as those dates approach. As usual, we’ll be posting our weekly Editors’ Choices starting before the end of May, followed by a chapbook review in late June. Thanks to all for submitting; thanks to all for reading.

Best wishes,
Andrea, Jeff, and Ryn, Editors

Contents

#38 – Brendan Connolly
Amid the Alien CornDavid Swerdlow
Among StonesJeff Hardin
April Snow – Ginger Dehlinger
Aqua PuraCharlotte Hamrick
Being a BishopRC DeWinter
Bewitched, Bothered, and BewilderedPatricia Carragon
Caminata Lorraine Caputo
Caught in a Snare – Gloria Nixon-John
County High PointCraig Finlay
Delphi Falls Ellen Austin-Li
Footprints In the SnowLindaAnn Lo Schiavo
GalahadPatricia Nelson
The HostagesNiles Reddick
How to Tell an Old Man He Can’t Climb a Tree – Brooke Schifano
I Saw MyselfJacquelyn Shah
I Didn’t Know Snow ThenLauren Davis
In the knee-high grass of Eastern Montana, Independence is a luxury few can afford – John McDonough
the irreversible futureMike Jurkovic
Japanese KitesPeter Scacco
The Joys of Sex – Ciara Dall
A Kind of Nothing is Prominently There Instead  – Nancy Jentsch
Lazarus ExplainsBruce McRae
LegendMax Heinegg
Like the Big BangCatherine Arra
Mother’s FudgeCL Sostarich
My First Death – Ellen Sander
Naive and Sentimental Sonnet #10Thomas Zimmerman
Newton CornerAndrew Furst
Night Eagle – Dee Allen
Night Watch – S.E. Clark
Noah’s ArkBetsy Mars
A Note on North StarsEmma Johnson-Rivard
The PatriotsTraci Mullins
Pleasant LaneJeremy Voigt
Promise #9Tony Burnett
Reconciling with Home – Brian Fanelli
A Ribbon at at TimeAnn Howells
Saturday Morning Remorse – Adrian Potter
Sex at Sixty – Cheryl Caesar
The Shape of Rain – Lois Harrod
Show Me the Way – David Lohrey
A Simple GestureRobin Wright
SmileBilly Thrasher
Sorrow BedKimberly Becker
Something There is that Doesn’t Love a Neighbor ~ – Ken Gosse
Special Carousel – Gary Glauber
Spend Less Time with Nightingales and Peacocks. One is Just a Voice, the Other Just a Color – Rebecca Macijeski
Spider CatchMark Youssef
Stenciled With Palm Trees and Flamingos – Francine Witte
SugarChristian Fennell
Summer FestivalPaula Kaufman
ThanksgivingJoy Gaines-Friedler
They’ll Call Me Deserter – Darwin Pappas-Fernandes
Tornado WatchCarl Boon
Tune – Gale Acuff
Wasco Woman – Penelope Schott
Without Speaking – Eliana Swerdlow
Your Son’s Birthday PartyKimberly Wright
Your City, My Unincorporated Town – Laura Voivodeship

Issue 11, Winter 2018-9, “Untamed” Theme – Including Our First-Ever Contest Winners

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Welcome to Issue 11, our “Untamed” issue. What a treat it’s been to read the wild rambles of our contributors. We’ve got lots of work related to relationships, not one but two references to a garrote, some super-quirky humor, LGBTQ work, hippies, women’s consciousness/ascension, childbirth, end-of-life issues, and more! Our contributors sing.

This is our first-ever contest, one that’s brought us all some fine work. We thank all who submitted and congratulate our prize winners and all whose wonders appear here.

Best wishes to everyone for a wonderful 2019! Thanks for reading Panoply.

Andrea, Jeff, and Ryn, Editors

Orchid.jpg

Contest Winners
First Prize – A Further Response from the Hornet’s NestRobert Okaji
Second Prize – UntamedDianalee Velie
Third Prize – At The Scottish Gallery a Baobhan Sith Takes a Pass on a Local VicarLinda Kennedy

Additional Contents
450Frances An
Apologia for a FetishBingh
ArchangelSteve Deutsch
ArthritisPat Hanahoe-Dosch
ArtisanKaren McAferty Morris
At the EdgeGloria Nixon-John
Ballet: The Second Lesson – PliésVictoria McGrath
The Bear in the LabyrinthCarol Flake Chapman
Bitter VisionWendy Vergoz
Bride of Porcupine Kathryn Almy
bull marketAnne Casey
Child’s PlayNeil Flatman
Dress Code – Brad Garber
FeralGabrielle Langley
FlightChristopher Wang
Four o’clocksRobert Nisbet
The GarroteAaron Brame
Good MorningNeil Harrison
The Heart of the MarrowEva Rosenn
How to Be a Leopard SealCarla Myers
In Praise of ReasonStephanie L. Harper
Just SupposingJames McKee
OpossumJulie Stewart
The other we eat is the tale we know bestKelli Allen
the pegasus clock in ICU15AM Roselli
Persephone Coaches HadesM.S. Rooney
Pine Twig Nest with Reindeer MossGail Comorat
Reuven Rubin’s Orange Groves near Jaffa 1928Mare Leonard
Scene #3Thomas Dedola
Train Ride with Hair on FireMartha Kalin
We were once menJack Ritter
What If They Could Be Wild?Irene Fick
Wolf CallChristy Wise