Monday, July 16, 2012

Volume II. Issue II.

July 15, 2012 
The Ides of March Journal
July 15, 1741: 
Aleksei Chirikov runs into Alaska. 
Europeans become acquainted 
with the Haida and moose jerky.

Featured in this issue, culled from thirteen possible entries: 

Harold Bosstick:
    ---"The Hounds of Acteon"
Melissa Dickson
    ---"Medusa Writes Her Epitaph"
    ---"Perseus Regales the Throng with a Blustery Tale"
Clinton Van Inman
Sophia G. Starmack:
    ---"Savonarola's Dream"
Katie Lynn Weldon
    ---"Joanna of Castile Marries Prince Phillip"
Bill Wolak:
    ---"The Viking Raid"


"The Hounds of Acteon"
---Harold Bosstick

It bounds


from our ravaging

We see our goal              ahead of us

It                                     eludes                            us.

But we close
in on the fear--
soaked prize
ready to clasp teeth
around its nubile


"Medusa Writes Her Epitaph"
---Melissa Dickson

You have to know I loved you all. None
came before me but I loved him.  None
perished at my gaze but at his own reflected.
For this, I wept. For this, I let dreams keep
me while Perseus, clumsy, dumb, arrogant,
a child I could love, stumbled half-blind
to my dark bed and found me, still, eyes
closed ever against him. What monument
he made of me, did not my soul contain.


"Perseus Regales the Throng with a Blustery Tale"
---Melissa Dickson

I was Stealth, capitol S, proper noun.
She never heard me coming.
I could have slaughtered all three
without opening my eyes.
I had radical resources, mad swag,
a skullcap that made me invisible.
I was smoke on a sterling platter,
in my fist, a snake-headed cunt
to wager the rest of my life on.


---Clinton Van Inman

Go drag your white skull beyond blind seas
That tumble dazed to your mono-eyed magic.
Go tell Neptune when the night is through.
Charm him, too, with your waxing and waning.
But you can't catch me with those veiled half smiles.
Your borrowed brilliance exposes you.
I know too well your darker side.
Go charm some other star struck rhapsodist.


"Savonarola's Dream"
---Sophia G. Starmack

Savonarola had a troublesome nose
through which came rushing all the rot of Italy.

Every time his knees knocked together,
a Volcano started up inside--

The year 1500 was approaching.
Every time Savonarola lifted his arms

the wonderful stink of Doomsday
streamed up and rattled under his black hood.

It was only after his Bonfires that Savonarola
learned the truth about Vanity.

Composing his Confession with the one hand
the executioners had spared, he saw it--

the hole where the Evil had been
still whistled. The ashes stank of red. 


"Joanna of Castile Marries Prince Phillip"
---Katie Lynn Weldon

The people of the court called her La Loca.
Some nights, they said, there is no rest--
her wailing consumes the country like pork,
smoked slowly over a stake like turning over in her sleep.
Her king, Phillip the Handsome, is gone out to sea somewhere.
Her howling is of sea-storms and sirens,
and all day she kneels in the cathedral, fingering the rosary
he gave her until its beads are worn smooth with prayer.
She should have never married someone whose title
uses the word "Handsome." A Handsome man will not stay.
Any village woman could have told her that.


"The Viking Raid"
---Bill Wolak

When the Vikings discovered
that the monastery's nuns
had all cut off their ears, lips and noses
to render themselves repulsive
in order to avoid being raped,
they cursed the waste
of such exquisite,
untouched flesh
and murdered them all
out of frustration.