Video Variety Show and Journal with Interviews, Reviews, Performances, and Readings
Thursday, September 7, 2023
GAS Featured Poet: Derek J. Brown
Thursday, August 31, 2023
GAS Featured Poet: Saloni Kaul
Saloni Kaul, author and poet, first published at the age of ten, has stayed in print since on five continents, including eighteen states of the USA. As critic and columnist, Saloni has all of forty-five years years of being published. Saloni Kaul's first volume, a fifty poem collection was published in the USA in 2009. Subsequent volumes include Universal One and Essentials All.
She has been published recently in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum (contains ongoing Saloni Kaul poetry page), The Penwood Review, Scarlet Leaf Review, Blueline (State University of New York), OVI Magazine, Mantis (Stanford University), The Whimperbang Journal, The Imaginate (Rutger's University), Mystical Muse Poetry Magazine, The Charleston Anvil, The Treasure Chest, The Poetry Leaves Anthology and Exhibition, Arteidolia, Quail Bell Magazine, Harbinger Asylum and The Transcendent Zero Press and The Lullwater Review (Emory University of Atlanta).
In addition to performing poetry solo, Saloni Kaul collaborates with artists on installations and exhibitions revolving around her own poetry and with musicians and composers on live and recorded performances of poetry set to music.
Thursday, August 24, 2023
GAS Featured Artist: Jeff Taylor
Jeff Taylor lives with his wife and kids in Massachusetts where he is a union worker when he isn’t writing poems. Jeff has performed at universities, theaters, festivals, bars, coffee houses, and sidewalks across the east coast and is a member of the 2023 Lizard Lounge Slam Team. You can find his work in recent issues of The Bloodshed Review, BOMBFIRE, Oddball Magazine, Cajun Mutt, The Alien Buddha Get’s A Real Job vol.2, American Graveyard (Read or Green Books), and The New Generation Beats 2023 Anthology.
Tobacco & Hash
Jenn was a professional drunk
got killed by a rookie.
What a crap career is that anyway?
When Jenn & I were in Florida
we paid too much
for a joint of tobacco and hash
the spliff got too wet to smoke
as we rain danced on the pier
cyclones twisting around us.
She overcame addiction
only to have her life ended
by someone who
wasn’t there yet.
I like to think
the woman
who caused the accident
was Jenn’s soulmate
they lived thousands of lives together
through thousands of universes
weaving the possibilities
of two beings colliding.
The roar of this life
reduced to the moment
they floated toward each other
locking eyes before everything went black.
Jenn once told me
she wanted all her friends
to smoke her ashes
so we wouldn’t make
the same mistakes she did.
What if we all smoked
our dead friends' ashes?
Would there be an energy transference
reverberating across generations
raising our collective consciousness
to new levels of possibility?
Would we take on the weight
of each other's lives?
Reduced To Art
I
build
towers
to watch you
ride horses
through our bed
I will
guild frames
for the pictures
of you
painted
on the inside
of my skin
I am raw for you
Wednesday, August 16, 2023
GAS: Poetry, Art and Music "Best of the Net" Nominations for 2024
Belinda Reads "Best of the Net" Poetry Nominations for 2024
Poets
Mark Saba: May 18, 2023, Switching Glasses
Carlene M. Gadapee: May 9, 2023, Coming Storms
Andrew Darlington: December 29, 2022, The Time Heels, Insane No More
Toti O’Brian: October 6, 2022, Heroin
Lana Hechtman Ayers: August 16, 2022, Things You Will Learn About Me After It’s Too Late
Karen Warinsky: April 26, 2023, Swimming in the Time of Kali Yuga
Creative NonFiction
Benito Vila: December 8, 2022, Homage to Wavy Gravy
Su Zi: September 18, 2022, On Literary Linage: Considering JT Leroy
Thursday, August 10, 2023
GAS Featured Poet: Peter Cashorali
Sam
Where is this
You find yourself?
In our thoughts,
Wandering
Through long agos,
Rooms of sunlight
Decades dim
Or shocking-sharp
Because last week
But clearly not
What you expected,
Which was heaven
Made of fame,
Or nothing
And its deep embrace.
None of this
Was up to you.
You find yourself
In memory
Though not your own,
A guest, a caller
In the homes
Of who you knew,
Not knowing now
But being known.