April 22-28, 2019: Poetry from Gaynor Kane and John Sibley Williams

Gaynor Kane and John Sibley Williams

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Gaynor Kane
gaynor.kane@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Gaynor Kane lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Her poems have been published in journals and anthologies in the UK, Ireland and America. Most recently her writing has featured in The Honest Ulsterman, Poethead: Index of Women Poets and The North. In 2018, Hedgehog Poetry Press launched their Stickleback series with her micro collection ‘Circling the Sun’. Gaynor is now working towards her first full collection thanks to a SIAP grant from the Arts Council NI. Visit Gaynor on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2019, and owned by Gaynor Kane and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


That’s debatable

Two words, uttered often
in our house
growing up.

Pierced by the points
of the sunburst clock
and hung from

the walled wire guitar,
like an unfinished
chord, musicless.

Silently soaking
into brown and amber wallpaper;
no discussion from either.


First published in The Road To Clevedon Pier,
Hedgehog Poetry Press ISBN 9781999640200

 


John Sibley Williams
jswilliams1307@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

John Sibley Williams is the author of As One Fire Consumes Another (Orison Poetry Prize, 2019), Skin Memory (Backwaters Prize, 2019), Disinheritance, and Controlled Hallucinations. A nineteen-time Pushcart nominee, John is the winner of numerous awards, including the Philip Booth Award, American Literary Review Poetry Contest, Phyllis Smart-Young Prize, The 46er Prize, Nancy D. Hargrove Editors’ Prize, Confrontation Poetry Prize, and Laux/Millar Prize. He serves as editor of The Inflectionist Review and works as a literary agent. Previous publishing credits include: The Yale Review, Midwest Quarterly, Southern Review, Sycamore Review, Prairie Schooner, The Massachusetts Review, Poet Lore, Saranac Review, Atlanta Review, TriQuarterly, Columbia Poetry Review, Mid-American Review, Poetry Northwest, Third Coast, and various anthologies. He lives in Portland, Oregon. 

The following work is Copyright © 2019, and owned by John Sibley Williams and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Salinas

Miles pass. Breaths. Landscapes scorch
by the window. Upturned faces everywhere
 
hunting for rain. Lettuce, wild vines, insects
& the things that eat them. Undocumented
 
work going on in the deepest
recesses of summer.
 
The smell of machines, ungreased levers
working each other up into whine.
 
A horse on the horizon. A jangle of belled goats. Thirst.
Hands, their splitting.
 
Our headlights stay on all day
to remind us to see.
 
Nothing says stay. Nothing has to.
We are pulled in too many directions
 
to make a home of things.
Proof that we were ever here is already disappearing.


Second Generation

That we can drop like lost airplanes & strike
towers eight minutes apart. That we can trace
our mother’s maiden name back to a country
we can hardly pronounce. The sins of others
reflected in our faces like moonlight caught
in the face of a shovel. I don’t know much
about physics, but I’m pretty sure some things
fall faster than others. Like accents when a country
demands one tongue. Like bodies inconsistently
colored. The light takes so long to leak through
morning clouds sometimes I wonder if I should
still call this night. That real night, the one star-
broken & flagless that we remember so vividly
though we’ve never seen it, with its brilliant
freedoms making predators of us all.

 



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