Poet Michael Dickel constructs an experimental variation on Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Ozymandias using cubism…sort of | Meta/Phor(e)/Play.
Hungarian poet Kinga Fabó | the blue is drifting | 3 poems translated from Hungarian | Meta / Phor(e) / Play
falling innocently | Three poems by Spanish poet Toni García Arias from his book, Fallen Angels —— The Last Summer, You, and Working Days | Meta / Phor(e) / Play
Italian poet and photographer Donatella D’Angelo presents 3 poems, translated by Dennis Formento with the poet | Meta / Phor(e) / Play
Three poems from Indian poet Aditi Angiras—Abandon, Geography, and Planchette | Meta / Phor(e) / Play
This year, Michael Dickel, Contributing Editor, served as lead for The BeZine April issue— Celebrating interNational Poetry Month.
Jamie Dedes offers two spring poems of roses and love | Meta-Phor(e) /Play
Three poems by gary lundy—“what does life account for after all. a brush stroke here. there. a few words follow. memorable or not.”
Surrealist dreamscape through a wormhole—a poem by Michael Dickel.
Faruk Buzhala, an Albanian from Kosovo, shares three poems—one written in English, two translated from Albanian.
Short poem and art—a cold and wet egret. I could say I have no egrets, but it wouldn’t be true.
Want to dive into monstrous conversations firing missiles across continental divides? Write your opinion! Hybrid flash by Michael Dickel
Storm-driven sea and terror-driven police—combine images for our time. | Poem by Michael Dickel
The poem has four stanzas of 9 lines each, for 36 lines (double 18), not counting the epigrams from Genet. Each line has 9 syllables. The total number of syllables is 324, plus the 36 lines, equals 360—the number of degrees in a circle. Chai, Hebrew for life, equals 18 according to gematria. So, 36 lines, double 18, is double life.
A hybrid essay-fiction flash set in a mystical garden that doesn’t exist in Jerusalem Recalled but possibly in Jerusalem Imagined.
Beware false prophecies and Amerika for spatial lies for ambling waves of greed…
The MLK weekend, a rainy day near Jerusalem, contemplating the U.S. inauguration coming up Friday, 20 Jan, 2017. A prose poem by Michael Dickel.
The Palm Reading after The Toad’s Garden (Is a Rose Press 2016), my fourth book, gathers flash fiction written in recent years (much of it for this blog)—from a series of surreal memoryscapes (featuring the woman with a beard and her friend, the metaphysical toad) to flash thrillers […]