Monday, 29 June 2015

A Few Bullets Short of Home by AJ Huffman

A Few Bullets Short of Home
And Other Poems
by A.J. Huffman
edited by Walter Ruhlmann
Cover photograph by Nate Dworsky

© mgv2>publishing, June 2015

ISBN: 978-1-329-27151-7

Set price: $8 buy it here 

About the Author

A.J. Huffman has published eleven solo chapbooks and one joint chapbook through various small presses. Her other poetry collection, Another Blood Jet, is available from Eldritch Press.  She also has two more poetry collections forthcoming: Degeneration from Pink Girl Ink, and A Bizarre Burning of Bees from Transcendent Zero Press.  She is a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee, and has published over 2300 poems in various national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, Bone Orchard, EgoPHobia, and Kritya. She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press.



A Few Bullets Short Of Home

There are demons in my head, talking
in tongues.  I know them,
but familiarity is beside the point.
They are drowning me
in my own versions of understanding,
though nothing is ever complete.
There is always a gap
of light or air.
Unconsciously I find it, breathe
for another day where another torture awaits.
I have given my soul
to make this cycle stop,
but the hate of fate is stronger,
bends my path,
but never breaks it.
I continue to wobble through this circle-like hell,
gathering words,
then losing them deliberately.
It is a cleansing, I suppose,
maybe a lesson
as necessary as blood.

Saturday, 13 June 2015

Patrice Maltaverne & compagnie

Patrice Maltaverne & compagnie
Édité par Walter Ruhlmann
Co-édité par Patrice Maltaverne

© mgv2>publishing & contributeurs, juin 2015

ISBN: 978-1-326-30225-2

5ème volume de la série francophone X & compagnie.
Patrice Maltaverne invite autour de lui Murielle Compère-Demarcy, Jean-Claude Goiri, Marc Tison, Sylvain Jadzewski et Tom Samel.

Illustration de couverture: François Biajoux

46 pages, 5€ + port

Commander chez l'imprimeur


En ce parking de luxe consommé
Du dehors
Il n’est pas possible
De prendre une photo sensible
De ces visages d’enfants brouillés par la pluie
S’ils conservent du bonheur
Le sans famille n’est plus
Qu’une larme à écraser au fond d’un cendrier
Un poteau en ciment à contourner
Un regard d’abruti à suspendre
Dans la solitude
Entre les deux
L’amour passe comme une flèche
Peu aiguisée
Qui ponce les baguettes des autos
Pour s’user dans des bouchons