The Darkening Summer’s fruit is rotting. I will use it to fertilize my seeds. When the world terrorizes me, I will hold up the mirror & ask: How do I terrorize myself? My path is strewn with bones. I will make a flute to play! Is magic, then, all in your head? wondered the initiate. […]Read more "The Darkening"
Larry D. Thacker’s poetry can be found or is forthcoming in more than ninety publications including The Still Journal, Poetry South, Tower Poetry Society, Mad River Review, Spillway, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Mojave River Review, Mannequin Haus, Ghost City Press, Jazz Cigarette, and Appalachian Heritage. His books include Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia and the poetry books, Voice Hunting and Memory Train, […]Read more "Behind the vibration"
This is the last in a series of three installments for Visitant featuring collaborative works from poet Dennis R. Kolakowski and artists Bruce Pipman and Charles W. “Bud” Gibbons, III. Biographies and back story below. No Creek Up Here Every beer I ever swallowed has been a fair investment in this moment, but Lord what I wouldn’t give right now […]Read more "No Creek Up Here"
Kenneth Kesner left school after reading in European classics and philosophy then sought a career teaching in East Asia, where he began to study martial arts and write poems. Some recent work is included or forthcoming in Children of Orpheus (Subterranean Blue Poetry), The Ibis Head Review, The Opiate, Otis Nebula and Tule Review. myth rural china 1961 a field where women are planting […]Read more "myth rural china 1961"
Jenny Keto is an actress and writer born and raised in Austin, Texas. After spending some years in NYC, she returned to Austin to attend nursing school. Jenny looks forward to the prospect of helping others for a living. Her poems can be found inPainted Cave Literary Journal and The City Key. Turn, Turning I […]Read more "Turn, Turning"
Poet’s note: My last entry on Visitant was “How to Swear,” a prose poem that ended with the hint of moving in another direction to blessing. On this Thanksgiving, “How to Bless.” How to Bless In Old English etymology, the word blessing began with sprinkling blood on a pagan altar—a hint of messy demands. The heart […]Read more "How to Bless"
Matthew Steele lives in Los Angeles where he gazes the living book for the hours of warm light. Then during the night he recites what he saw to himself and wonders a calm life. October Morning we tilt hours into a vicegrip of chapter, of things chained as centipede but immediate as Red. I forget almost everything about us. […]Read more "October Morning"
My husband explains harmonics to my mother. She keeps mishearing him and he repeats himself. Several vodkas make him patient. “It’s more complex, but at the same time, mellow,” he says, laying his hands on the Wurlitzer. My mother, with chess pieces in her hair, in her pajamas, in the autumn of her life. This […]Read more "You’re Not Just Seeing Things"
Once you leave your mother’s breast for the garden you must learn to grow yourself. All greensticks and gangly you will climb fences like ivy and reach for the light or you will crawl the dark way of wolf’s bane skinwalker, shape shifter yee naaldlooshii going to ground on all fours. The latch of love […]Read more "once you leave"
You can’t really dry chanterelles, or so I was told by a guide for the Mushroom Gathering at Breitenbush, a cheerful graying adventurer called Animal. Animal says he dries chanterelles because there are people who want to buy dried chanterelles from him, but the texture is unsatisfactory. It’s better to preserve these choice mushrooms by […]Read more "Freezing Chanterelles"