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Posts Tagged ‘John Grey’

Published by Poetry Editor on February 23, 2016. This item is listed in Issue 29, Issue 29 Poetry, Poetry

The Exorcist

We were ushered out of the room.
Only the stranger stayed behind
and Beth, of course,
still writhing uncontrollably on the bed.

Strange how the Christmas stars and streamers
still adorned the walls.
And the tree glistened.
It was the Savior’s birthday
but not within earshot of Beth’s tortured cries.

My mother sat us at the kitchen tableJohn-Grey_The-Exorcist
to sip milk and listen to her
cigarette-stained voice cackle some
random Biblical passages.
Beth’s screams grew even louder.

A month before, Beth had said
she’d seen a cross-eyed crow in the woods.
And met a peddler in the lane
selling odd trinkets—half-animal, half-man.
And during a particularly virulent storm,
a gruesome face had flashed in her window.

Ever since then,
she’d been coughing up bile,
swearing like dad’s old drinking buddies,
and eating nothing but cockroaches and flies.
Whatever she was suffering from,
it sure wasn’t the measles.

We asked questions
but mother said it was none of our business.
Just a stage our big sister was going through.
She handed a crucifix to each of us
with the instruction to clutch it to our breasts.

An hour after we left Beth’s room,
we heard a giant whoosh.
then a burst of laughter
followed by a booming cry
and a sound like a rocket taking off.
The stranger stumbled out of the room,
collapsed on the floor before mom could reach him.
“It’s done,” he whispered.

Beth remembers none of this
and I still don’t know
how mom explained away
the dead guy in our parlor.

In a way, knowing what I know now,
I feel kind of proud
that the devil chose my sister
out of everyone in our little town
for a full-blown possession.
She was never that pretty or that smart
and she couldn’t cook or sew.
My mother used to say she had a good heart.
And an even better exorcist, thank God.

 

— John Grey

 

 

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, Perceptions and the anthology, No Achilles with work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Gargoyle, Coal City Review and Nebo.

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Published by Poetry Editor on February 23, 2016. This item is listed in Issue 29, Issue 29 Poetry, Poetry

During the Depression

men in ragged shirts,
soiled trousers,
ratty hair tucked under caps,John-Grey_During-the-Depression
in the middle of winter
sit around a fire
near an abandoned quarry,

others ride the rails,
slipping in and out of boxcars
one step ahead of the cops,
travelling rough
from one jobless place to another,
eating out of trash-cans,
lining up at soup kitchens.

In the castle on the hill,
coffins stay closed
well beyond sunset,

in the old abandoned mill,
the doctor shutters
his laboratory,
unable to get body parts,

in the waters of the black lagoon,
the creature is speared for food,

in a graveyard near Pittsburgh,
zombies starve
for lack of human flesh—
either their visual prey
is worn down to the bone
or they can’t tell a homeless man
from their own kind,

hungry for his next meal,
the wolf-man slinks down the hill
toward a cottage—
too late,
the wolf’s already
at the door.

 

— John Grey

 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, Perceptions and the anthology, No Achilles with work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Gargoyle, Coal City Review and Nebo.

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Published by Associate Editor on February 24, 2015. This item is listed in Issue 25, Issue 25 Poetry, Poetry

The Tattooed Lady

One tattoo is a reminder of the guy
whose throat you slit.
That’s a red slice
not a wayward smile.
And, with belly button,
those eyes make three.

gautierdagoty_anatomyofawomansspineAnd here’s another pattern on your shoulder,
a heart this time.
You like having a heart there
where you can see it.
Better than behind your rib cage.
There’s an arrow through the initials, MK.
But that’s because the tattooist
was struggling with the jagged dagger you requested.

A devil straddles your spine.
It’s a she of course:
well-dressed but horned,
left foot in high heels,
the right one cloven.
And both ankles boast
a bloody image
from the loser you stomped on
in the bathroom of that punk club.

Your body is a history
of all you’ve done,
what makes you who you are.
And it’s not done yet
with its illustrations.
Every suffocation,
each poisoning,
will get its moment in the needle’s glare.

But then there’s the guy
whose skin you totally flayed.
You’re having a tough time
replicating that one.

 

 

 

John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in Oyez Review, Rockhurst Review and Spindrift with work upcoming in New Plains Review, Big Muddy Review, Willow Review and Louisiana Literature. 

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Published by Associate Editor on February 9, 2014. This item is listed in Issue 21, Issue 21 Poetry, Poetry

The Last Ride

The Last Ride by John Greyby John Grey

Winds have changed direction.

Winds have changed direction.

His old horse bears him home,
one sore but uncomplaining step
ahead of encroaching shadows.

He tosses his broken sword into the lake
though no hand reaches up
to grasp it.

Autumn leaves have shed their color.
Moon begins to rise.
Breast-plate never felt so heavy.

Here is a man who once slayed dragons.
But it’s his heart that’s burned down to a flicker now.

If only the fates would allow
one last walk to Dromedere pond at sunset,
hand in hand with Elena.

But distance plots against him.
His battered armor freezes.
Each patch of ground could be his winter grave.

Death and darkness
ply their trade
beneath the twinkle of unfeeling stars.

He’s at the mercy of the one black knight
whose blade strikes from within.

 

AUTHOR BIO: John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in The Lyric, Vallum and the science fiction anthology, “The Kennedy Curse” with work upcoming in Bryant Literary Magazine, Natural Bridge, Southern California Review and 2 Bridges Review.

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Published by Associate Editor on February 9, 2014. This item is listed in Introductions, Issue 21, Poetry

Introduction to Issue 21 Poetry

john-mannoneby John C. Mannone

I get excited in presenting a slate of poets to you every issue, which I try to make better (if that’s possible). I also like to try new things. In this issue, the celebrated poets, Geoffrey A. Landis and Mary A. Turzillo, husband and wife, are our Featured Poets. I think you will find it interesting, humorous, and enlightening to see how two speculative poets and writers develop their craft, under the same roof. Enjoy the interview and a sampling of their poetic styles with “Curiosity” and “Night at the Manatee Motel” by Geoffrey, and “Blue Tulips” and “Whales Discover Fireworks” by Mary.

Marge Simon treats us to a creative poem, “Catana,” which segues nicely into a love poem by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer. Steven Gordon translates this passionate poem from Spanish to English. (This is another new feature I hope to see more of in future issues—poems-in-translation.) “Attic Dust” by Sandi Leibowitz is emotionally charged is an experimental poem (with respect to structure). John Grey’s “The Last Ride” brings a bit of fantasy to the table, but it is much more than that.

Thank you for reading and listening to these poems (most of them have an audio file for your extended enjoyment.)

John C. Mannone
Poetry Editor

 

Issue 21 Poetry

Interview with Featured Poets Geoffrey A. Landis and Mary A Turzillo by John C. Mannone

Curiosity by Geoffrey A. Landis

Night at the Matinee Motel by Geoffrey A. Landis

Blue Tulips by Mary A. Turzillo

Whales Discover Fireworks by Mary A. Turzillo

Catana by Marge Simon

Cuando entre la Sombra Oscura (When the Dark Shadow Falls) by Gustavo Adolfo Becquer, translated by Steven Wittenberg Gordon, MD

Attic Dust by Sandi Leibowitz

The Last Ride by John Grey

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