What is Old is New Again is “A Steampunk Anthology edited by C.D. Turner and Chris Bartholomew.” This was sent to me by poet David S. Pointer who gave me the details that the editor had passed and that the family wanted to finish and publish this anthology that he had been working on. C.D. Turner edited this book before he passed away and was in turn edited by his younger sister Chris Turner. This is a collection of varied stories that range from time travel to the adventures of hot air balloons followed by a few poems and then leads into recollections of the editor by friends and family. Charles Dean Turner was born in 1952 and passed away in 2011 with his family by his side in Rapid City, South Dakota. This book was completed in his honor and published January 2012 by Static Movement. Below I will share one of the poems:
Gear Head Orbit
By: David S. Pointer
red glass chandelier descending
with a busy sea captain’s desk
to send laser memos-n-lightmail
to earthly loved ones below, and
refrigerated morgue repairman
that nobody nodded to or noticed
until he started a steam punk band
with Gatling gun sounding guitars-
burning diesel fuel like space napalm
igniting the propeller head hop into
mosh pit parade with overjoyed air
pirates demonstrating the astrophysics
of early late night dance floor light.
When read aloud I get the sense of an average Joe by day who becomes a fast-paced punk band player by night, energetic and buoyant.
If you’d like to purchase a copy of this heartfelt compilation, What is Old is New Again, you may purchase a copy from Amazon for $15.99 at:
Ill-Fated Solutions by Joseph Veronneau is a collection of poems that expresses the awkward moments of relationships, their memories, and the moments while wandering a city that leave you stunned. This is book 17 in the Pocketbook Series from Alternating Current’s Propaganda Press published in 2012. Below I am happy to share a few poems:
Listen to the positive
and the negative together. Think
of how big things will get. Imagine
the object in relation to yourself.
Feel the light blanket you
and how it feels
warm or cool.
The shadows, what color
they are, and whether
they are really the same shade
as the inside of your eyelid.
Imagine the story told,
and how it will be narrated.
What language shall make of it,
how clear or muffled it will be,
and picture the ceiling
making its way
I imagine the poet or the main character sitting in a psychiatrist’s chair being walked through visualization and at the moment they finally relax and clear their mind they are told the session is up. How often have we all gone through some variation of the same thing whether it is a massage, a vacation, talking to a friend on the phone who has to go somewhere, or even on the psychologist’s couch?
he drops off
heads out into an evening
where the chill comes from
screaming winds and
those hailing cabs
with bottles of their own
wants to see what is going on
at the other side of town
wishes to have
a say in the nightlife
the confines of this
I like this poem, it sounds like a man whose mind is full and he just wants to get out to relieve himself of all the cloying thoughts. I can picture him joining the mass of people out on the streets, blending in, and riding to the other side of town for a change of scene.
Cold winter whipping,
familiar face drifting to
settle with the snow
crunching under the feet
on sidewalks, change tossers
snicker and continue conversations.
Unfamiliar with history,
they don’t know
he was once a construction worker
putting shelves together, painting walls
at the mall 10 years ago now,
time chipping away
at his once semi-proud face.
He slouches, has the wind of life
knocked out now, hollowed stance
of the forsaken, the acquaintance
of many that pass him by
from after work coffee sessions
of rambling politics, of his 3 dogs
taken from him by the city,
of his departure of his quaint apartment
several years ago, where many
drunken mornings were realized
and dealt with.
Hey guys, do you have any…
before he finishes, my friend and I
search our pockets
for something to save him
even if it’s just for a few moments
This poem breaks my heart and hits close to home. Many people are still out of work in this country and the mention of the construction worker is especially striking for me since Florida had such a large amount of construction before the bottom fell out. I can easily picture the people I once knew walking into the insurance office who were in construction and I know many of them are struggling nowadays while I’ve moved to a different field and venue. For those of us who are employed, we count our blessings, and for those who are struggling my heart goes out to them. This poem strikes at the core.
If you enjoyed this short sample, you may purchase a copy of Ill-Fated Solutions by Joseph Veronneau for $3.00 at Alternating Current’s Propaganda Press:
Thanks for reading, please drop in tomorrow for more Poems Found by Poet Hound…