Reshuffling the Deck

Recently, I realized that my Publication History was a mess, so I took some time to revise the layout and make it easier to browse. Now, everything is in reverse chronological order and broken up by year, with my most recent publication announcements at the top. I also put the magazines and online journals that no longer exist down at the bottom in their own section. If you’re interested in what I’ve been up to, please take a minute to check it out.
In the process of doing this little tidy up, I came across a few more publications that have seemingly moved on to the netherworld that awaits knackered lit mags. Orion Headless was an online journal that featured a piece of my photography called New York Scraps. Now that their site has vanished from the web, I thought I’d share that photo here.
The other sad news was regarding This Great Society is Going Smash, which seems to have fallen silent after 2013. Like Orion Headless, it was a digital publication, but it really stood out as being nicely designed and generally well put together. It featured my poem, Opa, at the very beginning of my publication history back in 2011. One of the great things about my interaction with the team behind This Great Society was that they saw the poem’s potential and gave me a chance to rework some of its weaker parts. Not many journals will expend that sort of time and effort on a new writer, but in my case, it was just what the poem needed and they accepted the revised version. They even went so far as to feature it again in their Best of Poetry retrospective. On both of these occasions, Opa appeared alongside a great illustration by Lara Hughes and I thought the two went together nicely. But the piece was intended as a tribute to my grandfather and I’ve always wanted a chance to present the poem with the photo that inspired it, so I’ve included it below.

Opa

Candid photograph, the old man turns his head
too fast for the shutter and he’s transparent.
Chin rests against hands held together.
It’s prophecy, the light’s trick mirrors time.

Ticking like the gold watch around his wrist,
Following the snake, shedding wrinkled skin.
Moon-white hair slicked back, thinned,
and large glasses over dimming eyes.

Following moon-white feathers,
opened wings taking flight, god willing,
undefined, unfettered.

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