November 24-30, 2003: Alex Stolis and Dave Nordling

week of November 24-30, 2003

Alex Stolis and Dave Nordling

click here for submission guidelines

Alex Stolis

Bio (auto)

Alex lives and works in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

The following work is Copyright © 2003, and owned by Alex Stolis and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Gary New-Duluth
(Reason #1 to not Believe in God)

He hates this town
and every time he speaks
of it you can see his eyes
roll and a smirk

spread across his face He closes the Steel Plant
for kicks; tells Gabriel
it was either that or flood

the Mississippi,
said he’s bored
with water, wants something quieter,
longer lasting
Something that would move people,
shake them and start some action
is the way he puts it This town never was sharp

but word spread wild
like weeds in sidewalk cracks
and the mean breath that blows
over Superior fills our lungs

as bars empty and wives leave
and husbands grind their heels
in black dirt and wait
for the miracle that never happens.

Reason #2 to not Believe in God

He never washes his hands
after an accident, I’m tired of prayers
he whispers to Moses,
his eyes turn grey
when hearing the sound
of a sparrow falling
The moon never provides enough
shade and the night has become dull
like a mannequins black eyes;

he sits in a field and listens
to the wind through cornstalks,
watches as the sun falls,
burns leaves and waits
as sparks float to the sky
to dance with stars but no one leads
and no music is heard.

The Pull of the Moon
(Reason #3 to not Believe in God)

No day is ever born at the same time,
tomorrow is the  knife’s edge
that you cut your wrist on;

yesterday is the Mississippi,
water flooding this bored town
turning it dark red;

I watch orange and yellow
run down a faded sign
that marks Highway 23
Today, the earth turns
brown, the sky moves slow I make up patterns in the clouds, one
is a rabbit, one is a dog
and one is you,
head turned west
arm pointing to the sun.

Dave Nordling


My name is Dave Nordling and I am a professional engineer with a major aerospace company in Los Angeles I live in Agoura Hills, CA, just outside of the great SFV
I have been a featured reader at a few venues in the Los Angeles area including the Cobalt Cafe My work has been featured in such places online as UnlikelyStories.orgDufusPoeticDiversity and I have also had my work in anthologies such as the Poets of Midnight collection I put together this year commemorating the Midnight Special bookstore’s departure from the 3rd street promenade
I have one book of poetry, From the Blue Folder, which is available for $5 I am also editor of the newly formed outfit, Off-World Publications, a manuscript and layout service for poets and spoken word artists

The following work is Copyright © 2003, and owned by Dave Nordling and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Another Hotel

Another hotel room
TV in the upper corner
held like a wild animal
with steel bolted collar
to metal tube post

I drop my garment bag
and travel case
to the stranger I’ll sleep on A night (or is it day)
is here
six hours more
I’ll walk into a new language
maybe I’ll get to use my alphabet
maybe not
I’m grateful for the sink
with civilized, sterilized
sounding like my own
in my tired hands
to my weary face I think I’ve become older
My shoes go first
tumbling ahead of my shirt
my belt
overnight case extraction
brings witch-doctor ointments
liquids and vials
I brought from my tribe
to this foreign place
I need a familiar ritual
Navigating the knobs
and fixtures familiar,
some not
I perform the cleansing rites
of the arrived passenger Walking about the stark
solitary room, dressed
like an immodest native,
I find my quarters
I extract my costumes
from the precarious folds
of my traveller’s pack
Inspect them Adjust them I will show myself outside
with them
On the single Scandinavian chair,
wooden and plain,
I plot my course
identify the sites
sensing distance
by past steps taken in these very shoes
arranged by the bed
I will learn from each second
when the sun rises in the new east I pray to my God, their God, our god
thanks for safe passage
for good humor of those I meet
for protection in situations unseen
and for sleep to take me soon.

The Typewriter

When my mom first saw it,
She totally freaked When my dad first saw it,
He only asked, “Why did I get it?”
When my brother first saw it,
He thought it was very cool When I first saw it,
It looked like a lot of fun
I didn’t keep it a secret
Because it is my right to have it I keep it in its box
Because it can be dangerous I knew when I found one
It would become precious
And rare some day
Some have asked me
What use is it My mom first thought
it was a typewriter That’s why she flipped She wasn’t wrong It is a typewriter
It only writes one letter,


Up to 50 times from its banana Through paper, wood, and metal
In nearly perfect letters
A little more
Than 9 millimeters wide.

Subscribe to our weekly Newsletter: