My poem “Chilling Effect” published in The Tongue Has Its Secrets

from my collection The Tongue Has Its Secrets, my collection published by NeoPoiesis Press in 2016

Chilling effect1
I want to write about being at risk,
Silenced and scrutinized,
in nightmares jeweled words
wrangle sense and image.
Sun-shot thought champions dissent,
but anything I say can and will
be used against me.
Why am I alone in this protest?
Where is the vigor of astringency, the vinegar
homilies to warn of Cassandra’s oblivion?
Where are the bereaved, clad in weeds
of aubergine & black?
In the garden there is a skein of broken limbs,
bound for burial.
Avert your eyes and pray for solace,
the sweet bitterness of grapefruit marmalade
that wrenches a tongue from slumber.

A chilling effect is the stifling or suppression of political debate or other form of
expression or conduct by creating, through law or force, a fear of penalty or other potential
negative effect. See, e.g., “Chilling Effect Doctrine.” West’s Encyclopedia of American
Law 2005 15 Apr. 2015




The Sunday news by Donna Snyder

My poem The Sunday News at I Am Not a Silent Poet

I am not a silent poet


From the Associated Press:
Dolphins found shot, slashed, stabbed, and missing jaws.
Mutilations and other injuries recorded in recent months.
One found dead near Gaultier had a hole made by a 9 mm bullet.
Scientists who study marine mammals report four recent strandings
and on a recent Friday, another dolphin dead on Deer Island,
a piece of his jaw removed.

This just in:
Nietzsche was right about God,
and I am left alone in an incomprehensible world.
Sentient creatures who might have the answer I seek
die bleeding peace into a dirtied ocean,
its waters fouled with despair that cannot be scrubbed clean.
Dateline Damascus:
Children and journalists mutilated and killed by bombs,
blown into the meaningless abyss of a zero sum game.
They failed to learn the rules of play.

In other news:
People shot, slashed, stabbed—
an endless litany of horror born of greed for capital or…

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The Dictators by Pablo Neruda Translated by Scott Nicolay

From Miriam’s Well

Miriam's Well: Poetry, Land Art, and Beyond

Los dictadores

Ha quedado un olor entre los cañaverales;
una mezcla de sangre y cuerpo, un penetrante
pétalo nauseabundo.
Entre los cocoteros las tumbas están llenas
de huesos demolidos, de estertores callados.
El delicado sátrapa conversa
con copas, cuellos y cordones de oro.
El pequeño palacio brilla como un reloj
y las rápidas risas enguantadas
atraviesan a veces los pasillos
y se reúnen a las voces muertas
y a las bocas azules frescamente enterradas.
El llanto está escondido como una planta
cuya semilla cae sin cesar sobre el suelo
y hace crecer sin luz sus grandes hojas ciegas.
El odio se ha formado escama a escama,
golpe a golpe, en el agua terrible del pantano,
con un hocico lleno de légamo y silencio.

The dictators

A smell lingered over the canefields;

a penetrating blend of blood and bodies,

of sickening flower petals.

The tombs between the coco palms are stuffed

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New Poetry 2017

Get a copy of Nancy Patrice Davenport ‘s new broadside

Country Valley Press

Featuring Empty Hands Broadside #23, MINDFUL POCKET POEMS. Nancy Davenport hails from the San Francisco Bay area.  Her first chapbook La Brizna was published in 2014 by Bookgirl Press. 


Empty Hands Broadside ordering info


Six poems from Spectral Pegasus / Dark Movements – a teaser of a longer collaboration between poet Jeffery Beam and Welsh painter Clive Hicks-Jenkins. 


FOUR PLUS FOUR by David Giannini. A chapbook of four poems from Becket, MA. 


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