INTRODUCTION
HEATHER FERGUSON
Mirrors
CONTENTS
JB Mulligan
chronographies
unmasking
Laocoon
painting the sky
watching the river at Mobius Point
MICHAEL LEVY
The Best Thing In Life by Michael Levy.
Just Thoughts by Michael Levy.
Short & Long Of It By Michael levy
Kid-ding Around. By Michael Levy.
What A Lady by Michael Levy.
Going Strong By Michael Levy.
The Wedding Ceremony. By Michael Levy
The Head Mistress. By Michael Levy.
Joanna M. Weston
HOCKEY POEM
OLDER WOMEN
SOME KIND OF LUCK
LEMON-BALM
POST SCRIPTUM
Averil Bones
Hullucina Jenelopy
HEATHER FERGUSON Mirrors 1. The woods back home on a spring day. Spider webs hang weighted amid the flourish of tender green. Large meltwater pools under the cedars. Tannin and swamp smells. I touch brown water. Soft adhesion: the pondwater clings to my finger, watery umbilical cord, tenuous memory holding still. 2. A drowned woman floats upward to greet me. I knew her in another life. She tears at the silvery skin, frantic. Does memory diffuse through the limpid membrane? The surface shudders silently. The sun wavers, hesitates, pursues its course. Parallel shafts of light and shadow sweep the forest floor. Multiple sundials, multiple, parallel lives. 3. I bait a hook. Blind life wriggles in brown water. Torn from the ground in violent birth, naked sacrifice. Small flies jitter nervously in small clouds. Bass and pickerel rise. They surface to snap at flies, sink lazily away. Lordly concealment. Repeated rhythms. 4. I bait a hook with a feather. It lands lightly. The drowned woman rises, struggles to seize the lifeline. Slash marks on her face and hands from the hook. She tries again and again. I watch with strange detachment. We live in different worlds. 5. A thin line of bubbles rises from below. Decomposition. Intermittant SOS, faint pulse of a former life. Memories persist, rise, transparent and uneven. No permanent record. I bend down to the water, sing long and low, insistent sounds, the syllables of recall. Yearning mists the surface. Shadows lengthen. The sun touches the edge of the world. Sleep mists the world like yearning, breath on a mirror. Faint memories rise. A record evaporates off the silvery skin. May 31, 2003
JB Mulligan chronographies ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ i The plains of time, the oceans of event, the certain, inexact topographies of past and future spread, the fall and rise of ant and empire, each specific point as far away from what is equidistant in the latitude and longitude of days, each arbitrary measurement precise through all the scattered vistas of occurrence. The nomad wanders, disturbing antique sand or stirring dust to be: his footprint fades before the step of memory or dreams occurs. So, on the endless highway, crowds detect an echo, in a second's sound, of travelers gone, or here, or still to come. ii The waves of time, the oceans of event, the push and countercurrent as a boat tacks port and starboard, grunts to come about and face the storm - or, as a calm descends, worries a wandering breeze to lend a hand. The end is not for voyage or for port, for one is endless, and the other waits in undiscovered countries of the wind. The waves and rings and ripples surge and swell, large and small, and mingle, bearing off in a third direction influence of both, so days erupt and wither, echoes of each other, and the flow and flux of all is bound together in a single breath.
unmasking ~~~~~~~~~ When all the masks have fallen like leaves to the side of the road, the mask of the skull is left white and smiling, like a moon we have never seen, though it pulled at all our tides. We must wear it, smiling, before we can strip it off, revealing what might or might not be the end of masks, the final skull that will, like a snowflake, dissolve.
Laocoon ~~~~~~~ They came across the sea, light a shifting filigree on sinuous, urgent coils. They seized my sons and I; I threw my curses at the sky above my sons' weak wails of terror. "Bitch!," I roared. "You’d hurl this raging Grecian horde over us like a wave!" They dragged us down from light - Troy rippled slowly out of sight - to history's brute grave. (The rest has not been known: the goddess turned us into stone and left us alive inside to dream of home, to hear their dying cries inside stone ears, close by, and always loud.)
painting the sky ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The sacred venom of the secular dream. The flashbulb eyes and expertly painted smiles. The cut of purity's cold, precision blade through unimagined meat, and all the while the lie strides into the spotlight, assuring the crowd, "The truth is nothing more than what it seems." Cheers like tickertape. A mosaic of signs and fists and faces, lettered crudely, and clear: reality awaits a stamped approval. And comes with a toggle switch, for if the stars oppose the chosen sky or interval, all heads will bravely turn, they shall not shine except as fits the theory - without this, the world would just be running in reverse.
watching the river at Mobius Point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The river flows; the shape stays, but changes. Trees ring each year, slow, crooked roots grope for water. Even the continents' planetary yawn moves us further apart. We wander through the valley of our bodies toward death, and dream there is a stillness there. Some sort of a hub. There is only one wheel, with a center everywhere. We are only mathematicians or we would know this.
MICHAEL LEVY The Best Thing In Life ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ They say; the best things in life are Free, So why is sex so expensive? Welcome to madam Lulu's parlor, A big Top for only $500... a head, Suckers... suck em in Fifi's favorite lollipop! "My, you are a big boy" "Care for a nibble" "How do you like your dressing" "With or without garnish?" High price for a little sea-man Yo-ho-Ho! "Care for some champagne and oysters?" "Come again sir?" "One for the road?' Bottoms Up! a black orgasmic hole. "How about three cheers?" "Ejaculation with no parachute" What a jump! Now go home and hide behind your mask!! What a husband...A dozen red roses, Butter would not melt in his mouth. Really; he's just a little softy
Just Thoughts ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He had noisy ears that would not stop rattling on! ********* The inferior decorator declared; The interior is 90 percent completed, And 10 percent started. ********* Rebellious meat Clogged up drains a fatal contraction. ******* Mucinous cheese a bounty of congest no laughing matter. ******* Heartiness sprouts inarticulate luck or a vegetated gamble ******* Schedule courage toss of the cowar-dice numbers up
Short & Long Of It ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If you are long sighted does it mean you cannot see things clearly.... close up? And, if you are short sighted does it mean you cannot fathom things clearly..... far away? So how about hearing? If you are short eared does it mean you cannot hear The alarm clock go off so you can sleep in? And, if you are long eared does it mean you cannot hear close up...especially when the wife is talking?
Kid-ding Around ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hebrew religion was fashioned by one mans vision(Abraham) of a male God. His father was an very successful idol maker. Abraham was brought up in the God business and decided he did not like the idols image (pardon the pun) so, he created a new image more in-keeping with a male, mythical, invisible God. But how was he to convince the people to follow this male God.? Also; Perhaps Abe's son said; I want to go into Grandpa's business and sell idols when I grow up (typical little cheeky chap) So; dear Abe thought 'Son...your messing with the wrong cowboy!' He came up with the idea that God has asked him to sacrifice his son and of course when it came to the moment of sacrifice God relented and said; Yay Verily "I was only testing your faith." (And teaching the brat a lesson) "Just kid-ding around Abe"(pardon the pun) With Abraham being a very rich and influential man the superstitious folks around him thought... if it is good enough for him.... then we all want to be beholden to this male God who can punish us or treat us kindly. (And look how well mannered his son is now) What spectacular PR indeed. Just what humanity needed.... A moody male God who has nothing better to do than play life and death games with backward, uninformed people. I wish I could say they all lived Happy ever after!
What A Lady ~~~~~~~~~~~ Her hair was long and blond, Her eyes sparkled like stars, Her lips where full and provocative She turned mens heads when she walked into a room She oozed sex appeal, Not bad for a lady of eighty-six And...she was a great housekeeper, Well, after all she had been married five times, And she kept all the houses
Going Strong ~~~~~~~~~~~~ They thought he was as mad as a hatter but he explained; "it's just the mercury in my teeth speaking! They wondered why he wore such strong spectacles He answered; my eyes are not my vision! They thought him deaf as a door post And were amazed how he could answered all their questions He illustrated how you can listen in silence to wisdom and let your eyes feed your ears They asked if he consumed any dairy products He said: Cows eat grass! They supposed he was not normal Because he smiled all the time He declared; The people I encounter ask such funny questions! They enquired; What is your secret of living to 110 years of age He replied; The Gods are in a frenzy trying to repair humanities crazy foolishness.... And they simply forgot to call me home!
The Wedding Ceremony ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Here comes the bride..all dressed in white? She looks down the aisle She looks at the alter She looks at the groom and thinks I'll alter you! As she approaches the groom he grins The grin declares; are you ready for a merry dance? Her smiles responds: my pussy cracks a splendid whip. replies the smile. The father of the bride smiles His smile conveys; Will my money be required to maintain the lifestyle my darling daughter is accustomed? The groom beams back; you can bank on it! The grooms mother smiles at the bride; her smile asserts; Will you look after my little boy? The bride beam replies; Little boys need big balls to play with me! The clergyman speaks; Do you bride promise to love, honor and obey? I do..... but her smile vents; I should Co-Co.... Channel. Groom do you promise to love honor and obey I do......but his smile articulates; Not bloody likely! Do you fancy, in this fairy tale wedding, that they all lived, Happy ever after? Moral of the poem If only we could read thoughts We could save poppycock, balderdash, twaddle and twiddle. I forgot to mention... they had four children named; Twaddle, Twiddle, Poppycock and Balderdash!
The Head Mistress ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Good morning, are you applying to become the new head mistress, Probably, but I am not quite sure what you are looking for? Well, what are your credentials. OK For three years I worked at a brothel and they said I gave the best head. So, they designated me...... The perfect head-mistress. I then did some studying and became a teacher. Before too long they made me head mistress of the school. So, they appointed me The perfect head-mistress. Now....... how can I best serve your needs and demands kind sir?
Joanna M. Weston HOCKEY POEM ~~~~~~~~~~~ I pour herbal tea into a poem add honey stir carefully and read each line loudly while three men watch hockey and drink beer
OLDER WOMEN ~~~~~~~~~~~ we sit at caf‚ windows watching men on the street we strip the pants from the one with a swinging walk mothers and grandmothers all know the ache in our bellies when the night runs weeping between our dreams
SOME KIND OF LUCK ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I never knew until my luck turned that I wore it in rainbow colours lazar beaming tarmac-gleaming eye-blinking a luck that opened to green pastures reached down through tumbling water and lifted onto rock but the smiling lady turned - and now rapids run swift rocks bruise cars crash and in doubt I question even the clock
LEMON-BALM ~~~~~~~~~~ untangling an apple tree from the heave and weight of dead blackberry vines which I bend and toss to a decaying pile and step into a pungency of lemon-balm - the sweet cleanliness piquant as after-shave
Averil Bones Hullucina Jenelopy jumped up on black Jalalopy* decided to go rollicking have a look around. Hullucina had fun! when she went frolicking and rollicking riding on Jalalapy, singing in the sunshine, they went over and around. Jalolopy just loved to feel the sunshine on her back, whinnied - they went cantering, their open-hearted bantering filled up the afternoon. * Jalalopy oringally appeared in the poem as Jalolopy. Unfortunately the poet could not find a part for Jalolopy, who appears closely related to Chitti Chitti Bang Bang. Jalolopy remains waiting in the wings for those of you who would like to get to know him.
Welcome to Newsgroup alt.centipede. Established
just for writers, poets, artists, and anyone who is creative. A
place for anyone to participate in, to share their poems, and
learn from all. A place to share *your* dreams, and philosophies.
Even a chance to be published in a magazine.
The original Centipede Network was created on May 16, 1993.
Created because there were no other networks dedicated to such
an audience, and with the help of Klaus Gerken, Centipede soon
started to grow, and become active on many world-wide Bulletin
Board Systems.
We consider Centipede to be a Public Network; however, its a
specialized network, dealing with any type of creative thinking.
Therefore, that makes us something quite exotic, since most nets
are very general and have various topics, not of interest to a
writer--which is where Centipede steps in! No more fuss. A writer
can now access, without phasing out any more conferences, since
the whole net pertains to the writer's interests. This means
that Centipede has all the active topics that any creative
user seeks. And if we don't, then one shall be created.
Feel free to drop by and take a look at newsgroup alt.centipede
Ygdrasil is committed to making literature available, and uses the
Internet as the main distribution channel. On the Net you can find all
of Ygdrasil including the magazines and collections. You can find
Ygdrasil on the Internet at:
* WEB: http://users.synapse.net/~kgerken/
* FTP: ftp://ftp.synapse.net/~kgerken/
* USENET: releases announced in rec.arts.poems, alt.zines and
alt.centipede
* EMAIL: send email to kgerken@synapse.net and tell us what version
and method you'd like. We have two versions, an uncompressed
7-bit universal ASCII and an 8-bit MS-DOS lineart-enchanced
version. These can be sent plaintext, uuencoded, or as a
MIME-attachment.
. REMEMBERY: EPYLLION IN ANAMNESIS (1996), poems by Michael R. Collings . DYNASTY (1968), Poems by Klaus J. Gerken . THE WIZARD EXPLODED SONGBOOK (1969), songs by KJ Gerken . STREETS (1971), Poems by Klaus J. Gerken . BLOODLETTING (1972) poems by Klaus J. Gerken . ACTS (1972) a novel by Klaus J. Gerken . RITES (1974), a novel by Klaus J. Gerken . FULL BLACK Q (1975), a poem by KJ Gerken . ONE NEW FLASH OF LIGHT (1976), a play by KJ Gerken . THE BLACKED-OUT MIRROR (1979), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken . JOURNEY (1981), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken . LADIES (1983), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken . FRAGMENTS OF A BRIEF ENCOUNTER (1984), poems by KJ Gerken . THE BREAKING OF DESIRE (1986), poems by KJ Gerken . FURTHER SONGS (1986), songs by KJ Gerken . POEMS OF DESTRUCTION (1988), poems by KJ Gerken . THE AFFLICTED (1991), a poem by KJ Gerken . DIAMOND DOGS (1992), poems by KJ Gerken . KILLING FIELD (1992), a poem by KJ Gerken . BARDO (1994-1995), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken . FURTHER EVIDENCES (1995-1996) Poems by Klaus J. Gerken . CALIBAN'S ESCAPE AND OTHER POEMS (1996), by Klaus J. Gerken . CALIBAN'S DREAM (1996-1997), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken . THE LAST OLD MAN (1997), a novel by Klaus J. Gerken . WILL I EVER REMEMBER YOU? (1997), poems by Klaus J. Gerken . SONGS FOR THE LEGION (1998), song-poems by Klaus J. Gerken . REALITY OR DREAM? (1998), poems by Klaus J. Gerken . APRIL VIOLATIONS (1998), poems by Klaus J. Gerken . THE VOICE OF HUNGER (1998), a poem by Klaus J. Gerken . SHACKLED TO THE STONE, by Albrecht Haushofer - translated by JR Wesdorp . MZ-DMZ (1988), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . DARK SIDE (1991), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . STEEL REIGNS & STILL RAINS (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . BLATANT VANITY (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . ALIENATION OF AFFECTION (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . LIVING LIFE AT FACE VALUE (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . HATRED BLURRED (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . CHOKING ON THE ASHES OF A RUNAWAY (1993), ramblings by I. Koshevoy . BORROWED FEELINGS BUYING TIME (1993), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . HARD ACT TO SWALLOW (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . HALL OF MIRRORS (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . ARTIFICIAL BUOYANCY (1994), ramblings by Igal Koshevoy . THE POETRY OF PEDRO SENA, poems by Pedro Sena . THE FILM REVIEWS, by Pedro Sena . THE SHORT STORIES, by Pedro Sena . INCANTATIONS, by Pedro Sena . POEMS (1970), poems by Franz Zorn All books are on disk and cost $10.00 each. Checks should be made out to the respective authors and orders will be forwarded by Ygdrasil Press. YGDRASIL MAGAZINE may also be ordered from the same address: $5.00 an issue to cover disk and mailing costs, also specify computer type (IBM or Mac), as well as disk size and density. Allow 2 weeks for delivery. Note that YGDRASIL MAGAZINE is free when downloaded from Ygdrasil's World-Wide Web site at http://users.synapse.net/~kgerken.
All poems copyrighted by their respective authors. Any reproduction of
these poems, without the express written permission of the authors, is
prohibited.
YGDRASIL: A Journal of the Poetic Arts - Copyright (c) 1993 - 2001 by
Klaus J. Gerken.
The official version of this magazine is available on Ygdrasil's
World-Wide Web site http://users.synapse.net/~kgerken. No other
version shall be deemed "authorized" unless downloaded from there.
Distribution is allowed and encouraged as long as the issue is unchanged.
All checks should be made out to: YGDRASIL PRESS
COMMENTS
* Klaus Gerken, Chief Editor - for general messages and ASCII text
submissions. Use Klaus' address for commentary on Ygdrasil and its
contents: kgerken@synapse.net
* Pedro Sena, Production Editor - for submissions of anything
that's not plain ASCII text (ie. archives, GIFs, wordprocessored
files, etc) in any standard DOS, Mac or Unix format, commentary on
Ygdrasil's format, distribution, usability and access:
art@accces.com
We'd love to hear from you!
Or mailed with a self addressed stamped envelope, to:
