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Marc Vincenz
marc.l.vincenz@gmail.com
Bio (auto)
Marc Vincenz is Swiss-British, was born in Hong Kong, and currently lives in Zurich, Switzerland. His poetry collections are: Gods of a Ransacked Century, Mao’s Mole, Behind the Wall at the Sugar Works, Additional Breathing Exercises, Beautiful Rush and This Wasted Land and its Chymical Illuminations (with Tom Bradley), forthcoming from Lavender Ink. Marc is Executive Editor of MadHat Annual (Mad Hatters’ Review), MadHat Press, Coeditor-in-Chief of Fulcrum: An Anthology of Poetry and Aesthetics, and a director of Evolution Arts, Inc.
The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by Marc Vincenz and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
She Thinks I Look Like Lenin My secret girlfriend asked me in a Beijing KFC: I imagined his face in place of Colonel Saunders. Do you know why Mao loved Marx so much? she asked. And she went on nibbling her wing. Happy Hour at the Surrogate Bar & Grill
Mitsue tells me everywhere there are powerful vortices, perceptible to only the most intuitive souls. Hitlers into Einsteins, But she possesses a device she calls her VFP, sense ley lines, that she may tread She tells me it’s no coincidence she was born an heiress is a gift from a long line of ancient Okinawan ancestors. the jungles of Brazil, tin traps of Africa, over the great plains of Siberia, of his third eye and his fifth and eighteenth life, And with her millions and her legacy of intuition, Mitsue flags down the bartender, orders another should I walk home alone tonight.
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J. K. Durick
jdurick2001@yahoo.com
Bio (auto)
J. K. Durick is a writing teacher at the Community College of Vermont and an online writing tutor. His recent poems have appeared in Thrush Poetry Journal, Black Mirror, Third Wednesday, Shot Glass Journal, and Orange Room.
The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by J. K. Durick and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
In the Late Innings As time wore on all our things began to blur: Denial How did it happen? I was there – the place, We live, as I said, where things just happen So I am saying that if I was there, and I’m not So this will be all I have to say. Any more questions
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