Clockwise Cat Issue 40

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The sun is not interrupting you By Shannon Phillips Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains call on us? —John Donne, “The Sun Rising” The sun breathes neon exclamation marks. The sun bleeds canary feathers. The sun’s nickname is Alice. The sun speaks cobblestone. The sun slurps rock urine. The sun eats couture dresses embroidered with buttermilk metaphors. The sun vomits pale rose petals. The sun sees through my black spots. The sun does not care about you and your orgasm, John. Author bio: Shannon Phillips is a freelance editor and an aspiring translator. Her most recent chapbook, Body Parts, was published by dancing girl press in 2017. When she isn’t busy reading Scandi Noir, she can be found napping with her Russian Blue. Tweet her @hungrybookstore.
On !e Beach By Stephen Mead Hello earth & also you stars. How many, & be exact, are there of you? Party for thirty hundred zillion? Step this way please. Table coming straight up. Sit down now. Bend your wands or do whatever you can with them. Checking a glow? Oh, glad to know it, pleased to meet----- Sea gull hearted, for you I am shooting: arms, these northern lit spindles, legs, ah, sprite as water bugs’. Zip. Zip. This exhilaration is ethereal. What? Why, it’s easy----- Energy peeling off the old sleeping pill sludge & those eyes which were hidden. No more, no more, small pain coveted brooks. Look, see now how they shine----- Zeal, zeal, I’m sober enough to order a fresh round. Clams will do; such drunk down shells of mistral music, such toasts proposed for absent lovers, & their spouses. Yow! I’m not hysterical, only full of zest, full of----- Darling, marvelous. Tell me, how are you? No TB will get us, the retiring heroine’s demise. We’re far from Victorian. I’m born again, island wild. This is my flora, my fauna. Here’s coral exotic. Come, wade amid reefs, caress fish. The tidal pools ripple. There is the moon, our familiar, our family’s heirloom. Oh sisters, brothers, we spin zeniths, are courtesans waiting for daylight, that new constant, that luminous blessing-bestower of these rioting sand castles. Author bio: A resident of NY, Stephen Mead is a Outsider published artist, writer, maker of short-collage films and sound-collage downloads. In 2014 he began a webpage to gather links of his poetry being published in such zines as Great Works, Unlikely Stories, Quill & Parchment, etc., in one place: Poetry on the Line, Stephen Mead For links to his other media and even merchandise if you are interested please feel free to Google Stephen Mead Art.
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CLOCKWISE CAT ISSUE 40 DEDICATED TO
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EDITOR’S SCRATCHING POST A wonder
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Felino Soriano Mini-Tribute In the
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so I stepped back " possibly compar
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Artist bio: Gregory Autry Wallace i
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! Artist bio: AK is a personal frie
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! MEMORY 3 Artist bio: “My name i
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Artist bio: Dominick Damo’s poems
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Photography by SEIGAr Artist bio: S
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EVALUATORS
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funky fretwork. The band sounds rei
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Making a MOCKERY Of Domestic Violen
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Book Bites Mini-reviews of Small Pr
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"Doors without borders." "The war o
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Mark Bray’s Antifa: The Anti-Fasc
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own dash of Bukowski—-into a real
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Trump’s Inferno: The Donald’s V
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A Humble Suggestion By Jessica Hylt
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I can think of not one objection, t
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But that’s way better than in mos
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Trump was endorsed by David Duke (a
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RANTS By Lisa Verdekal A bit of a r
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Countries are diversity of language
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objectify fellow citizens and proje
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harbor bigoted biases if we are ill
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Weather as Pleasantry By Heller Lev
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So if students thought their teache
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Statement by Georgia Gubernatorial
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site, and right to the fire-break w
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will be carts all over the parking
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Gay Rights in … Russia By Paul Ki
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VERSIFIERS
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drowning in a puddle nearly 5 centi
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and Power Puff Girls, Marguerite Du
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the darkest art By Megan Denese Mea
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feasts on obliteration/annihilation
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I taste a honeycomb of haunting vis
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said the play must go on Noel Cowar
Page 78 and 79: The Utternuts By Darrell Petska Oh
Page 80 and 81: The man got sucked up a fireplace,
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Page 84: Author bio: Chris LaMay-West believ
Page 87 and 88: CAN’T COUNT ON IT By Chani Zwibel
Page 89 and 90: the ground offers me its soft warm
Page 91 and 92: In order for it to be soiled And in
Page 93 and 94: yeehaw into the setting sun, trying
Page 95 and 96: in the pith of loam By Heller Levin
Page 97: J to audience: Come to think of it,
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Page 102 and 103: Blog-Free Sonnetry If I like you I
Page 104 and 105: Untitled Pixels are my lean-to in t
Page 106 and 107: incest wed to freedom it is all ris
Page 108 and 109: For suicides, the penultimate chapt
Page 110 and 111: So you’d rather be with the one a
Page 112: The work crew has arrived In their
Page 116 and 117: America your slaveships became ideo
Page 118 and 119: One Poem By Simon Perchik It has no
Page 120: chickens--home--roost by Wanda Morr
Page 123 and 124: Millions of sonic Pisces Diving in
Page 125 and 126: In this way, I as landscape transmu
Page 127: “CaN” Poems By Lorna Wood make
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Clockwise Cat Issue 40

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