We lovingly dedicate Issue 40 to our dearly departed (Perpetual) Poet-in-Residence, Felino Soriano. We hereby offer a mini-tribute to him among many other amazing writings and artworks. Stay tuned to an entire tribute issue to Felino, coming up in early Spring, 2019.
America your slaveships became ideological apparatuses— many more died, willingly. America your settler colony could have been a theme park. America your right wing tastes like dust and your left wing is a gutless coward. America we need more M-16s more F-16s and some B-52s for the period pieces. America we love every movie you ever made. America go to North Korea and KILL THEM ALL. America would your cops stop killing black men if we asked nicely? America could you have tripled the body count in Vietnam to nine million? America did you get the letters we sent and did you read Hillary’s emails (were they as sordid as we imagined)? America we received 22,000 applicants for twenty-five openings; should we feed the surplus people to the nuclear wolves? America your longshoremen are living on pet food and your John Waynes were all closet homosexuals. Points finger like a pistol and fires. Author bio: Georg has been making films and videos since 1999. His award-winning works have been presented at hundreds of universities and film festivals around the world, most recently at the Atlanta Film Festival, San Francisco DocFest, and Experiments in Cinema. His current documentary project, White Ravens: A Legacy of Resistance (forthcoming) focuses on the Haida Nation and the cultural resurgence taking place on their islands of Haida Gwaii. Georg is an Assistant Professor of Film Studies at the University of North Carolina Wilmington where he teaches documentary & experimental filmmaking.
Desire Is Not Dead By David Matthews Afternoon light plays the leaves like Vivaldi Until evening segues softly into a melancholy Chet Baker tune The sun crawls sidewise across the indescribable sky And meets the moon in the middle of a turquoise sea of delirium A beauty waiting to be born burns in the eye of the green violin And desire is not dead in this heart The lovers linger on a bridge somewhere between here and there She whispers vowels of wind and rain His lips sound the words that make up the book of the abyss Neon smears the surface of the river silent and dark beneath them Poised between yesterday’s waste and tomorrow’s treachery Proud in beauty—and despair And no, desire is not dead in this heart Author bio: David Matthews is a native of the South Carolina Midlands, resident of Portland, Oregon, poet, runner, and unaffiliated intellectual. His poems have appeared in Adelaide Literary Magazine, The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Quill & Parchment, the anthologies Fault Lines, Ghost Town Poetry Vol. Two, Raising Our Voices: an anthology of Oregon poets against the war, and elsewhere. Essays on film, books, current affairs, running, and other topics can be found on the blog at his website Portable Bohemia (www.portablebohemia.com).