John Stanizzi
John L. Stanizzi – author of 15 collections, including his newest, Entra La Notte. Besides Poetry Super Highway, Johnnie’s work has been widely published – Rattle, Prairie Schooner, American Life in Poetry, and others. His creative nonfiction has been published in, Southern Florida Poetry Review, Evening Street, and others. John has read at venues all over New England, including the Mystic Arts Café, Hartford Stage, among others. A former Wesleyan University Etherington Scholar and New England Poet of the Year, recipient of a Fellowship in Creative Writing – Non Fiction, CT. Poet Laureate Nominee, Coventry, CT. Poet Laureate. John has just been named the inaugural Poet Laureate of Coventry, Connecticut. Visit John online here.
The following work is Copyright © 2026, and owned by John Stanizzi and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Giving Blood
All those times when Daddy was late
she had already broiled the steak
down to half its original size
under the dome
of the Rival Hammer-Bright Electric Indoor Grill,
where the blood collected and coagulated
in the pan beneath the domed aluminum lid,
a half-moon round, silver and battered like Elizabeth’s moon.
When Daddy was late I got the blood.
She’d hand me two slices of white on white Wonder Bread
which I placed down in the drippings-catcher.
Then I’d wait while the bread filled with blood
and I could eat it with a fork,
that deep red bread filling my small body
with blood
aroused by the need for love.
Hamza Rastanawie
Hamza Rastanawie is a Syrian-Canadian poet and neurologist. He resettled in Canada as a refugee in 2020 and has published several poetry collections in his native language, Arabic, including: The Kingdom of Narcissus (2003) and The Dictatorship with a Long Neck (2016)
The following work is Copyright © 2026, and owned by Hamza Rastanawie and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
The City Of The Dead
When the river dies,
I will bury with it,
a jar of wine,
the morning star,
and a guitar with a broken string.
When the world dies,
I will remain here alone.
I will cut away my hand at the wrist,
then throw it away,
It will float.
Thereafter,
I will cut off my other hand
and throw it away.
It will shake hands with the first,
and at least, a new world will be born.
