Thursday, July 31, 2025

GAS Featured Poet: Alan Catlin


Alan Catlin has been fortunate enough to publish dozens of chapbooks and full-length books of prose and poetry. Among his more recent ones are Landscapes of the Exiled (Dos Madres), How Will the Heart Endure? (Kelsay) and Unattended (Cyberwit.) Forthcoming is Work Anxiety Poems (Roadside Press,) Still Life with Apocalypse (Shelia na gig Editions) and a book of short stories, The Naked City (Anxiety Press).



Spring Three Times


1-

The sky bleeds 

where sky meets 

the sun


The slow tide of

night that follows

after


2-

Early Spring rain

still feels like Winter

when puddles

freeze at night


3-

White trees on

a gray day;

nothing blooming yet





Natural Art Three Times


1-

Burchfield’s Six O’clock


Dinner time in well-lit

dining room. Outside, snow 

drifts and a crescent moon;

so cold it hurts.


2-

The View from Church’s Porch

at Olana:


Manmade vista mirrors nature.

Two reflections. One river.


3-

Pissarro’s Rain Effect:


Mud rutted country roads, 

tree lined and grass verged

in shimmering half-light

feels more real than it is





Zen Koan Poems Four Times


1-

Zen in the Art of Archery:


The hand and the bow

and the flight of the arrow

and the target. All are one;

together and apart


2-

Bach’s Art of the Fugue;

dissonate and harmony, 

chaos and order


3-

Mosaic of beach glass

and sea shells; the art

of the wave


4-

Water bugs on tidal

pool surface; scattering

the sunshine





Zen Koan Poems Five Times



1-

Receding waves at

low tide; shore rocks

dragged after


2-

Dreaming Great Wave:

Hokusai in oil cloth

painting the rain


3-

Dreams without color,

shadows within shadows

beneath a canopy of stars


4-

Washed ashore lobster

traps embedded in

sand; beach art


5-

Windup clock without

chimes, stopped hands

always say two-thirty; 

no key




Kawabata Eight Times


1-

Snow Country in early

Spring, white shadows

fade in full moonlight


2-

Thunder, then rain that

melts out-of-season

snow


3-

A hand print

in raked sand;

a silent exclamation


4-

After the bath, a dragon’s

tongue extends the breadth

of silk kimono


5-

Steaming tea in

porcelain up, leaves

inside tell us nothing


6-

Sleeping on straw mats.

Wind riffles rice paper.

Rain on a tin roof


7-

In the dream garden,

dwarf roses and stunted

pines; sand falling instead

of rain


8-

White out snow squall.

Where has the path

home gone?




Thursday, July 24, 2025

GAS Featured Poet: Daniel P. Stokes

 

Daniel P. Stokes has published poetry widely in literary magazines in Ireland, Britain, the U.S.A, Canada and Asia, and has won several poetry prizes.  He has written three stage plays which have been professionally produced in Dublin, London and at the Edinburgh Festival.



 San Juan

                                                          

Today the strand’s invaded. 

Groups commandeer a space

and set up camp.

They’re in their thousands.

Tomorrow’s the feast day of San Juan.

With tents being pitched 

and boundaries staked                         

and hails and hollers 

the noise is tactile. They’ve come -

I don’t know where they’ve come from –           

to spend the night and party on the beach.

They’ve brought their stove, their food, 

their drinks and their excitement.

 

Four bucks in pride erect a shack 

with poles and palms macheted from the cliff.

A woman on her knees nearby,                              

her youngest perched beside her,

boils a pot outside her tent

and hums in Spanish.

Work, routine and discretion                              

have been long-leashed. It’s Fiesta.                               

A call – no, a command, a summons -                            

to gather in communal expectation                                

and let the moment for the moment            

eclipse all other aims.

 

I pack my books and leave them to it.

Their revelry, like open prayer,

is done in public

to satisfy a private whim 

that isn’t mine. The bells

above the ruckus mark out midday                                     

and I have rites and rituals of my own.

  

 

Thursday, July 17, 2025

Su Zi's Review of "Women in Independent Publishing" from New Mexico Press

 


We know that the destruction of a library is a crime against humanity. Even a simple Siri search describes such atrocities as “a way to erase a culture’s history and identity”, and, of course, mentions Alexandria. Those of us not suffering from cultural amnesia might recall news images of dumpsters full of books as libraries were required somehow to destroy entire collections. Memes of flames and swastikas were not an unusual accompaniment. In such a climate, the esteemed University of New Mexico Press published Women in Independent Publishing, a decade long firsthand research project executively produced by Stephanie Anderson. The area of greatest scholarship regards Zine History, an aspect of the literary community that ought to be rightfully revered.


The work is an inch-thick, trade-sized tome that is, frankly, a work of feminist scholarship that ought to be among the new acquisitions for any feminist collection that hasn’t yet been set on fire. Reading the book backwards, the Index alone spans seventeen pages, that includes a heading called “chapbooks[...]rebellious nature of publishing,347-48” (409). Also, most deliciously and impressively is a ten-page bibliography that ought to look lip-licking to any woman’s studies program not already disbanded.


The text itself is introduced with a thirty-page essay, followed by a series of interviews of women who were editing poetry publications during the second half of the twentieth century. This would seem to be an ordinary and interesting sidewalk tour of literary history, if every single premise in the work were not under recent legal human rights attacks. Within the text itself, Margarat Randall states “The cultural blockade, after all, was as important as its economic and military counterparts” (63).  A reader might think she speaks of somewhere in our moment, except she speaks of Cuba and 1963.


Anderson organizes the work by a lineage-- she begins with a refutation of the agreed upon text by Grove, as is standard scholarly procedure. She then proceeds with an onslaught of people and texts that would give glee to any poetry geek...again crucial information to rebuilding libraries. There’s a mention of a collaboration with Anais Nin (3) on a now rare title called “Two Cities” ; overt reference to the work of Alice Notley, and repeated reference to the exclusion and under representation of women, “women used publishing in various ways to push against the sexism and misogyny of literary scenes writ large”(5)-- a tactic also used a generation before so that women could merely vote.


Dismissal of women as critical artists is a reoccurring theme here, often motivating the subjects of the interviews to publish periodicals. In her interview, Susan Sherman makes an interesting remark about poets publishing poets, especially women writers or artists overall, “It’s really very dangerous to depend on someone else to make serious choices, both about your work, and about your life, for that matter” (117) , and makes much mention of collaboration with painters and musicians. 


The work repeatedly discusses technical duties in production and production details and predates the ubiquitousness of computers by decades. There are multiple mentions of group collation meetings, physical typing of manuscripts onto duplicatable sheets called mimeo that smelled and faded, before the ordinary use of copy machines. It was “physically building books” (C.D. Wright interview, 273).  The body of the text concludes with a prose poem by Lee Ann Brown that includes “and that liberation of putting writing into print and changing margins and typefaces probably greatly enabled the possibility of making books” (336).


The crucial nature of this text cannot be overstated, but also its pleasure: among those interviewed might be someone we know, or might have met, or whose edited publication we admire, or who we have read. The value of the work as a reference regarding poetry cannot be overstated, nor can its value as a reference regarding feminism of the second half of the twentieth century. Maybe that’s why it’s so dangerous. The work is a dense reference of information related to all that touched women’s lives during those decades, of publications now rare and valuable, of a compendium of research for rebuilding a history currently under culturicide. 




Su Zi is a writer, poet and essayist who produces a handmade chapbook series called Red Mare. She has been a contributor to GAS from back when it was called Gypsy Art Show, more than a decade ago.

                     

Check out her author page on Amazon.