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Lavender Wolves Literary Journal

                                                            May 2014

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Picture

        



A VIOLENT SOUND IN ALMOST EVERY PLACE #52



By


Darren C. Demaree










If beauty falls from air

& our words must work

through the live carnage

of our minds, our lungs

& their decorations,

from where can the air

be at all pure enough

to allow beauty from such

a place? The folds, 

holding on to their twists

& the meaning of those,

the allowance of  depth, 

but only an outstanding 

process, a magical one, can 

make what you’re saying 

to me more than a change

in the smell of your burst.



Darren C Demaree is the author of "As We Refer to Our Bodies" (2013, 8th House), "Temporary Champions" (2014, Main Street Rag), and "Not For Art Nor Prayer" (2015, 8th House).  He is the recipient of three Pushcart Prize nominations and a Best of the Net nomination.  He is currently living in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.











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Ball



by



Anne Oleson







"The ballroom that gave rise to this poem is actually the old, unused ballroom in the Wolcott Hotel in NYC; several years ago, when staying at the hotel, I discovered in the room literature that there was a ballroom, and when I asked, the concierge let me see it.  It was magnificent and sad.  I thought of it again a while ago when a friend was staying at a past-its-glory hotel in Blackpool, in England--and my first instinct was to ask him to find out if they had a ballroom." 




Blue-veined, the marble pillars

soar up into the darkness

toward windows which would be

sunbursts if there were sun,

if they were not begrimed

with years of dust and cobwebs.

The smell is earthy with 

leftover corsages and cigarettes.

Sound crowds back in from 

the foxed mirrors on the walls: strings 

and horns from a long-dead orchestra.

You sense them all—the tails,

the organdy gowns—as they swirl past,

the ghostly coquettes smiling 

at men who sailed long ago

from this sparkling promise

into disappointed old age and death.

Still, you lift your arms

to your phantom partner,

your footprints in the dust like those 

of a drunken man in snow.



Anne Britting Oleson has been published widely in North America, Europe and Asia.  She earned her MFA at the Stonecoast program of USM.  She has published two chapbooks, The Church of St. Materiana (2007) and The Beauty of It (2010). 





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Fortitude 




by



Jenni Pezzano





"This poem was sparked by a memory of walking on fire when I was 15, and what I had wanted to achieve through that experience. As we grow and change we have to redefine all those promises we made to ourselves and continue to nurture the "little bird" in all of us."



Within the definitions of myself

there have been

So many years 

spent running

searching for meaning

hidden in the cracks

hidden in the eyes of others

and as I watch my flesh grow soft

made tame

with the revolution

of giving life

my mind 

in repose

I go to you once more

young child

as you walked upon the fire

hot coals against a dark desert sky

asking for strength

did you find it?

is strength

not in the holding onto things

but in the letting go?

for I am just a body

composed of secrets

hidden beneath my blood

the rush of whispers

in my ear

while my heart

a trembling bird

shuffles in her cage

wings outstretched

ready to take flight

time has no meaning to her

she does not grow weary 

with the weight of gravity

she dreams of renewal

patient

and  eternal.



Jenni Pezzano Is a full time writer, poet and mother. Her travels have lead her to the deep desert of New Mexico and all over Oregon. From the quiet forests of southern Oregon/northern California redwoods and the lush coastal landscape of a 180 acre commune to the bustling city of Portland.  She draws inspiration from the varied landscapes and life experiences she has encountered. Writing has always been a therapeutic form of expression for her, continuing to seek out a deeper meaning behind her personal stories. She has currently returned to her native small town home in southern Oregon to raise her family. You can follow her blog at Jennileighp@wordpress.com.


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