Sunday, November 30, 2014

The Homestead Review


I received an acceptance letter for a short fiction piece today. "Whiskey and Reds" is going to be published in The Homestead Review in Spring 2015.

http://old-www.hartnell.edu/homestead_review/

Really excited about this one. I haven't had too many fiction pieces accepted this year; the focus has been primarily on poetry. Consequently, I feel I really needed this little 'win' to round out my year. I'm one happy writing fiend.   :)


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Saturday, November 29, 2014

Innisfree Poetry Journal


I received a rejection letter today from Innisfree Poetry Journal. It was my first attempt with this mag. I'll probably try again.   :)




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Friday, November 28, 2014

"Landmark"


Landmark


The structure remains,
weathered and beaten,
cracked at the base,
chipped around the edges.

The tour guide is vigilant,
including all pertinent
information, how many
were murdered, where the

bodies were buried.
Most in the group
assume he's embellishing,
study his deadpan face,

try to find a wry smile
in the darkened eyes. It
doesn't matter whether
he's exaggerating or not.

Stale sweat stains
the molten windows;
beams and boards
still smell of blood.





           ~~~




First published in Pyrokinection; Kind of a Hurricane Press

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Happy Thanksgiving! - Fourth and Final Anthology Publication for 2014

 
"Widow's Mite"
 

Published in Vending Machine-Poetry for Change, Volume 5

 
 
Fourth and final Anthology for 2014. My poem, “Widow’s Mite,” has been published in Vending Machine – Poetry for Change, Volume Five. This Anthology is published by The Poet’s Haven for the Poetic Provisions Food-Drive.
 
Theme: “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” Mahatma Gandhi.
 
Donations collected during the Food-Drive go to the Canton Sunday Picnic and the Akron-Canton Regional Food bank in Ohio, two organizations that feed and care for the homeless and those in need in eight counties of the Akron-Canton Region.
 
I am so pleased that this poem was selected for inclusion. I literally emailed my submission a mere six minutes before the deadline cutoff. I assumed I was probably too late. I’m so happy I wasn’t. I’m honored to be included in such a worthwhile endeavor to feed and care for so many in need. 
 
Many thanks to the editors of The Poet’s Haven.
 
 
 
 



 
 
 
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Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Five Haiku / First published in High Coupe; Kind of a Hurricane Press


Five Haiku



Collins, Hass and Bly . . .
many nights spent in their worlds
drunk on wine


Around the table
sits the strength of worlds
teacups in small hands


Cerulean sky
silent and wondrous painting
broken by dove's wings


Bright constellations
form a nocturnal map
lead the cat back home


Barren winter sky
calling to the lonely sun
will it ever end





          ~~~




First published in High Coupe; Kind of a Hurricane Press
October 2, 2014

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

"Fighter"



Fighter    

 

Cool hand on the glass,
warm breath fogging the pane,
I watch you through a maze
of machines and monitors,

your tiny heart beating so fast,
trying to keep up in a world
you weren’t ready to enter.

The nurse says little boys
don’t fight as hard
as little girls to survive.
Not sure why that is; don’t care.

Before me lives a prize fighter,
a classic champion, ready
to throw a knockout punch,
all five and half pounds
settled in the swing.




            ~~~




First published in Eunoia Review
July 14, 2014

Monday, November 24, 2014

"Growth"


 
Growth  

                 For Victoria

 

Your hand rests
upon your belly, protective,
a shielding gesture all mothers recognize.

Shaking your head
at the offered beverage,
you turn instead to a bottle of water.

Moving slowly among the crowd,
you glide with care and grace, serene,
no fear of jostling the precious cargo you carry.

Smile unending,
your peace and joy are tangible
as you move from one guest to the next,

thinking you have kept your secret safe,
presuming no one knows the truth
that has yet to be spoken aloud,

but with each brush of your hand
across your midsection,
I see your smile grow.

One can only assume,
in another seven months or so,
you’ll be grinning from ear to ear.




                    ~~~




 
First published in print in Coffee-Ground Breakfast / March 2014
First published online in Whispers in the Wind -

Sunday, November 23, 2014

"Capture" published today in Leaves of Ink


 
Capture

 

The room in the corner  
smells of fresh coffee and old books,
meticulously organized, yet surprisingly dusty.

The window at the end has no discernible view,
yet it’s where she stands to gather her inspiration.

The blinds hang crooked; the window is cracked.
The vent in the ceiling has been stuck since the 70s,
and the stains in the carpet have been present for decades.

An ancient Underwood graces the far corner,
while a modern Dell sits on the desk near the wall.

In summer, the room is suffocating; in winter, near-freezing.
But regardless of season, she’s most often found
sitting on the floor, cross-legged, pen and paper in hand,

capturing the moments as they’re caught by the tail,
then expertly committed to a wide-ruled notebook,

thus preventing their escape through the cracks that linger
between the crispness of an onionskin page,
and the sleekness of a liquid crystal display screen.




                                 ~~~




First published in Leaves of Ink
November 23, 2014

Saturday, November 22, 2014

"Artist"


 
Artist

            For Roman

 

 
The artist sits
in the corner booth,
head bowed, forehead furrowed.

His hand never stops moving
as the canvas comes to life
before his eyes.

All who walk past
marvel at his gift,
some placing a few coins

in the donation tin,
others offering
to buy him a cup of coffee.

He graciously accepts
the coffee, secretly wishing
someone would buy him a sandwich.




                   ~~~




First published in print in Kind of a Hurricane Press: Something's Brewing Anthology / April 03, 2014
http://www.amazon.com/Somethings-Brewing-A-J-Huffman/dp/1497342171/ref=pd_sim_b_3?ie=UTF8&refRID=0JRPY42ZJZ72WAE431PF
First published online in Foliate Oak Literary Magazine
May 02, 2014

Friday, November 21, 2014

"Cycle" (For Kevin A. Merino)



Cycle

 
                   “You’ve got the sun, you’ve got the moon, and you’ve got the Rolling Stones.”
                                                    Keith Richards  
 
                                      
                                                       For Kevin, the history teacher…

 

The moon hangs low
on its fishing line,
dangling at the end of a hook,

episodically close,
dressed in full ball gown,
designed to tempt the nightlife,

those unique souls
whom show themselves
but once a month, suddenly wakened,

celestially vibrant,
cyclically alive, unknowingly
salivating from the influence of the lunar bait.




                          ~~~




First published in print in Conceit Magazine / June 2014
First published online in Home Planet News

Thursday, November 20, 2014

"Fragility"


Fragility 


 

How anything
is true
is so very fragile…
a moment of belief 
dangling over
a pool of uncertainty,
aided by
one careless qualm,
and the true
becomes
the fallen,
lost and drowning
beneath
the polished black
surface of doubt
and suspicion. 
 
 
 
 
      ~~~




 
First published in print in Shadow Poetry / February 2007
First published online in Miller's Pond Poetry Magazine

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

"Grit" published in Floyd County Moonshine






My poem, "Grit," has been published in Floyd County Moonshine, Fall 2014/Issue 6.2 

http://www.floydcountymoonshine.org/

My author's copy arrived today. What a beautiful journal! I love it. Very grateful to the editor for giving this particular poem a home.

I'm attempting to attach some pictures. I love having my name listed on the back cover of a journal. It never gets old, seeing that word, "Contributors," and then seeing my name listed directly below.

Now unfortunately, my name is misspelled inside the journal, though they did spell it correctly on the back cover. Unfortunate, but it happens sometimes. Though I have a common enough name, I don't have the most common spelling of said-name, so mistakes happen on occasion. The editor was so incredibly gracious and apologetic about it though. So I just can't see expending the energy to be upset about it. I'm thrilled that my poem is published in such a beautiful journal.  :)





~~~





Grit

 

 
From the cracked window
in the corner of the garage,
(the partitioned section
turned room-for-rent)

she watches each day as
the construction takes place
across the street on the hill--
a growing monstrosity,

a massive home,
an unsightly mansion,
completely out of place
in the simple neighborhood.

Billowing clouds
of dirt and debris
find their way through
the cracks of the window,

the searing summer heat
making the intrusive dust
feel even more invasive,
near-suffocating.

A rag is used to wipe away
the collective filth
from the outer shell
of her broken life,

but she never
pauses to ponder
the growing damage
to the inside,

for there’s barely time
to clean the grime
before returning
for her second shift,

high hopes
and steely resolve
that the tips she’ll bring
will be enough to make the rent.


              
                  ~~~ 


Tuesday, November 18, 2014

"Vestige" published today in Whispers in the Wind

 

Vestige

 
 

He didn’t have much
in the way of mementos,
a bible that belonged
to his mama, a tobacco tin
that his daddy had used.

There were a few gifts
from his girls over the years,
and more recently, keepsakes
from the grandchildren too. 
He kept these things,

but rarely looked at them.
But once each autumn,
when the earth gleamed golden
for a time, just before turning
barren for yet another winter,

he would retrieve the small box
from the back of his closet, sit
for a spell, and re-read each card,
one by one, voicing each word,
reliving every moment.
 
 
 
 
                ~~~
 
 
 
 
First published in Whispers in the Wind
 http://whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com/2014/11/vestige-by-cristine-gruber-united-states.html
November 18, 2014

Monday, November 17, 2014

"Downturn"


 
Downturn  

 

Swathed in blue,
the weathered vessel
welcomes the heat
of the timeless blaze,

the fire creeping higher
up the sides of the pot,
staining the metal
deep unto its core.  

She stirs the boiling
soup, fingers gnarled,
thin and arthritic,
mere bone, scars

on both hands,
the wrists too, leathered
shell long since adjusted
to life’s heartless flame.

She ladles up the meal,
feeding the group well,
as amply as the current
recession will allow,

taking none for herself
until every member is fed.
She eats last, alone,
scraping the bottom

of the worn out pan,
keeping the flame
alive, eating directly
from the scalding metal,

burning her tongue,
welcoming the heat,
the tingling sensation
more than sufficient

to keep her warm
one more night
in the borrowed
surroundings,

more people
than blankets,
more bodies
than beds.




    ~~~




 
First published in Ancient Paths Literary Magazine
July 02, 2014

Sunday, November 16, 2014

"Found"


Found  


 
This evening I found
the time I had lost,

those precious few hours
I so wished back.

They hadn’t traveled far,
just around the bend,

and indeed seemed happy
to find me as well.

They looked a bit older,
but no worse for wear,

having taken good care,
these past twenty years.

But when asked,
“Why now, what makes you return?”

The response was simple…
they’d never really left.




              ~~~





An earlier version of this poem was first published in print in Mother Earth International Journal / Spring 2007
First published online in Foliate Oak Literary Magazine
May 02, 2014

Saturday, November 15, 2014

"Distinctive"


Distinctive 



It was interesting to note
that the DVD collection
was not only perfectly lined up
but alphabetized as well. 

But it was another thing entirely
to notice that the spices in the kitchen
were likewise placed in alphabetical order,
in a long, thin rack, on both sides of the stove. 

There they were in matching uniforms
of clear glass with white lids,
all perfectly aligned,
labeled to declare their purpose. 

False appearance of the same packaging,
for all were different on the inside,
ranging from white to yellow, to red to brown to black.  
All labeled, yet all serving a different purpose.

Praise for the advantage of a clear container,
the ability to see through,
to perceive past the labels,
to bear witness to the inside.




                   ~~~




 
First published in print in Writer's Digest / April 2006
First published online in The Poet's Haven
December 16, 2013

Friday, November 14, 2014

"Sated"


 
Sated

 

I hear him every
morning at 2:00am, another
restless soul who simply cannot sleep.

We both feed on the
nourishment we seek during
these quiet hours when normalcy sleeps.

He walks the halls,
pausing before every closed door,
listening for the steady sound of deep breathing,

souls lost in slumber,
before he moves on to his final
destination, his true middle of the night calling,

the hunk of ham in the refrigerator,
a tall glass of milk to wash it down.
My room being closest to the kitchen,

I hear the scrape of the silverware
against the porcelain of the plate.
Little does he know I’m awake as well,

feeding myself to fulfillment
in the privacy of my room, my feast
consisting first of a warm appetizer of Collins,

to be followed by an enticing
entrée of Laux, and then topped off
with a delectable dessert of both Kooser and Dunn,

a favorable feast indeed,
for I cannot rest until I am completely
sated, deliriously delighted, wondrously full. 

I would offer
to share my banquet
with he who walks the halls

looking for his own late-hour
nourishment, but I gather my meal
of choice would no more gratify him

then his would satisfy me.
Thus, finally ready to retire as the
clock approaches the three o’clock hour,

I hear my friend as he sighs
and ascends the stairs at last,
sufficiently sated, ready for repose.




                    ~~~




First published in Leaves of Ink 
 May 13, 2014

Thursday, November 13, 2014

"Warming" (Inspired by and Dedicated to - Kevin A. Merino)


 
Warming

 

An hour
before dawn,
so brittle and parched,

mother earth
like sandpaper
this dry winter morning.

Nature thirsts
in anguish before the sun
has even made her daily appearance.

There are those who would deny
the evidence of global warming,
though the signs are all around us,

giving fair warning,
screaming in near-agony from
the gasping throats of continuous drought.

The view
in the distance
a familiar one, and yet not…

still the middle of winter,
this third week in February,
not a white-capped mountain anywhere in sight.




                           ~~~ 




 First published in Full of Crow
April 22, 2014

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

"Reboot"


 
Reboot

 

Pessimism, like a pulsing drum,
beats a steady rhythm
along both temples.

The empathic one, absorbing
the pain, pulls it unto herself
with the power of a Dyson,

thus cleansing the room
of unnecessary debris,
protecting those who can’t

otherwise handle
the incessant pervasion
of negative information.

Permeation gone viral, she retreats
to recharge life’s battery, having long-since
mastered the process of shut-down and reboot.




                            ~~~ 




First published in The Write Place at the Write Time
September 22, 2014

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

"Lucidity"


 
Lucidity

 

Life’s rain has come again,
warmer this time,
but torrential in scope,

heavy and oppressive,
dark and near-endless,
a streaming veil to cover the light. 

No way to know
how long it will last,
unpredictable in nature,

erratic in intensity,
days of near-blackness
followed by mere moments of clarity. 




                    ~~~




First published in The Write Place at the Write Time
September 22, 2014