poetry of scars

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This one doesn't feel brave or beautiful.

It is a mark of sheer stupidity

in the face of the obvious

clichè – concensus – hillbilly wisdom for fucksake

 

At the center it is numb

the seam stitched but

never healed proper and now

twitches in anticipation of tears

 

This scar – forever tender

is a daily reminder to let things lie

and the misfiring nerve makes me

acutely aware that even after all is lost

I am still a fool.

 

[This piece comes from a GRIND month writing on the poetry of scars.]

The Bagel Book Gets Covered

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Bagel BookIn Bagel Book News, I was up at 5:30 am, making two dozen bagels for the March of Dimes bake sale at our office today. Yeah, apparently I'm that lady now. But I think I finally got the cover image I wanted fror the book, so – totally worth it.

For eight years I made bagels for myself and my family (also Susanne). In the last month and a half, I've shoved 400-some-odd bagels into the mouths of 50, maybe 60 people, and the thing is, I liked it.

As the recepies are perfected, one by one, the testing phase is winding down, and shortly I'll be back to making the usual dozen per week to satisfy my own bagel cravings. Somehow that feels kind of sad, so every once in a while, I'll probably drag my sleepy ass out of bed at 5:30 am to boil and bake and bag up the glorified roll with a hole in my attempt to feed the world.

 

Freshly Pressed; a Blog Revival Update

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Just in case you think this Blog Revival is a mirage … today brings updates from the following familiar voices:

WRITTEN ON THE MOON mourns The Loss of Our Shamans

BORED BUT BUSY is brutally sleepless in Yesterday

and

SOLONOR'S INKWELL gets all reminicent with a man with priorities so far out of whack doesn’t deserve such a fine automobile

Go.

Read.

Say Something.

(this is how we do it, babies)

In Book News

The 2nd edition of The Complicated Geography of Alice will be available in paperback by Nov. 1st 2015 and is already up for Kindle. This edition has some minor editorial tweaks and additions to the end piece.  (The list of Badass Transgender Writers has grown, so be sure to check them out.)

There are some new things in the works and I’ll fill you in soon. Reviews at Amazon and Goodreads are always appreciated and as always, you can message me with other comments or questions: laurustina {at} gmail {dot} com

peace –

Jules

Assur (a bit of fiction owed to our Dark Fairy Queen)

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assurNewly-hung stars light our path through the grove, fat with summer fruit. I crouch low against Arye’s back, my fingers buried in her mane. Wound round my throat Nachash eggs Arye on.

They’re gaining.” she calls out as if we don’t already hear the hooting, stomping melee that is Ben and Keves, coming up fast behind. A great rumble of laughter rolls through our lioness ride as she clears a felled tree.

The ram and his boy will lose time going around.

We reach the clearing and fall in a heap beneath the trees at the edge of the moonlight field. The air is still warm and heavy with the scent of jasmine. Quince, pomegranate and figs hang above our bed of clover. My belly growls.

Arye licks her fur with a practiced boredom as Keves clambers into the clearing. “I told you so.” She purrs without looking up.

The girl weighs less than this brute.” Keves gasps, catching Ben in the arse with the tip of a horn as he slides to the ground.

Paws beat hooves yet again my friend.” Nachash says with barely concealed venom.

Would that you had either.” Ben flops down beside me, his salty heat stirring another hunger.

Sustenance!” he demands, looking to Nachash and then the shadowy clusters of fruit above. Her eyes narrow, but she slips over my shoulder and scales the tree. Moments later, a fat fig nails Ben in the forehead.

I snatch it and manage a bite before he lunges, then take secret pleasure in his flesh against mine, as he wrestles it from my hand. When he’s claimed the fruit, I shove him off and finally swallow my bite.

Immediately fire fills my belly, my vision blurs and my limbs grow heavy. On the insides of my eyelids flash visions of desolate land and rivers of blood. I open my eyes to find my friends crowded ‘round, shadowy figures against a darkening sky.

Arye calls for help from beyond with an unintelligible roar. I feel Nachash at my shoulder but hear only a hissing as her tongue flicks my ear. In fact, in all the commotion it’s only Ben I can understand.

Azazel!” he spits out my name out like a curse, “What have you done?”

The whole world has changed in an instant.

I will forever bear the blame.

**********************

Details on The Dark Fairy Queen‘s Midsummer Night Dream flash fiction contest are as follows:

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