Catherine: A Tribute to François Truffaut's Jules et Jim (1962) By Dr. Michael Anthony Ingram

Last night I dreamed about Catherine. She was wild, riding her bike and moving through time. We were all under the bright blue sky, yet above the blue stained beaches of the Côte D'Azur. Jules and I watched her between us like a nice drink. The joy of Voltaire’s Candide was still in the air. Three hearts beating together in a strange way.

Then came an unexpected knock at the door. Old memories of war came back to haunt us. Letters crossed borders while bullets crossed trenches, friend aiming at friend through teary gun-sights. I cursed in the daylight, And moaned under the moonlight, frustration escaping from my lips. Jules held her while I waved another flag. Their marriage was like a wound that just wouldn't heal. Like Beckett’s Godot, I waited for her to nestle in my arms.

Catherine, like quicksilver, impossible to catch— She danced between us like fire between mirrors. She jumped into the river, laughing at death, while we stood frozen, scared, but amazed. I fought through dark nights before, but never faced two battles: One for my country, one for love. The loud silence of our loss hit hard, as she took us both, owned us both. Winning was impossible in this three-way fight.

Time spun like her bike wheel. Years passed like burning pages of books. Now, she drove with me beside her. Jules watched from the shore of their love. The haunting strains of Lili Marlene wafted through the years, while shadows gathered around her smile.

I dream again of Catherine. We are under the blue sky, yet above the blue stained beaches of the Côte D'Azur. She's driving now, with passion and doom twisted together. The bridge is coming; she has made up her mind. In a heartbeat, she quickly turns onto rue de Temple, but she goes straight into the void, Taking our story with her. The joy of Voltaire’s Candide sinks in the river, while Jules and I stand apart, separated by the woman who united us.

Dr. Michael Anthony Ingram is the host and producer of the internationally recognized poetry podcast Quintessential Poetry: Online Radio, YouTube and Zoom. Through his work as a retired associate professor of Counselor Education and Supervision and as a noted poet and spoken word artist, Dr. Ingram also leverages the arts, especially poetry, to bring attention to the effects of power, privilege, and oppression in our society. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and his second poetry collection, Metaphorically Screaming, is eagerly anticipated. For more information about Dr. Ingram or the podcast, visit https://www.qporytz.

CRAP WEATHER, CRAP COUNTRY, NO EGGS By Susan Isla Tepper

Frilly apron, pastel oven mitts

life a stinking pile of onions

set on the counter to rot—

Such is my incentive to cook:

boil a bag of noodles

sprinkle on the grated cheese.

Voila.

If the plates are pretty in design

will you notice I’ve scaled back?

Kitchen windows north facing

have frost-bite—

Using my fingernail

I scrape a heart anyway.

Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty year writer and the author of 12 published books of fiction and poetry. Her most recent novel “Hair of a Fallen Angel” was released by Spuyten Duyil, NYC in early October. Check out the Official Video for this book on YouTube 

link: https://youtu.be/W2HVIc4NrqYriter 

Tepper has also written 5 Stage Plays. www.susantepper.com

Sunday Morning By Jake St. John

The sun 

spills sideways 

through living room blinds 

falls between dust 

and morning air 

across the carpet.

My coffee 

has gone cold 

again 

and I can't recall 

the last time 

I cared.

Waiting 

for a phone 

that never rings 

in the hum of silence

the world 

runs its course.

A broken radio 

plays our song 

in the echo 

of an empty room.

Jake St. John lives in the woods on the edge of the Salmon River. He is the author of several collections of poetry including Lips Leave Scars (with Jenn Knickerbocker, Whiskey City Press, 2023) Ring of Fog (Holy and Intoxicated Publications, 2022), Night Full of Diamonds (Whiskey City Press, 2021), and Lost City Highway (A Jabber Publication, 2019). He is the editor of Elephant and is considered an original member of the New London School of poetry. His poems have appeared in print and online journals around the world."

In Silence By Manny Grimaldi

I feel you closer than ever / and I don’t want to talk.

 —Marin Bodakov

With you, my self’s self

on sleepy terraces built 

in elm’s moss spying the spheres

all, enough to adore, enough 

to weep, newborn insects gasping at the fog.

Welcome to my city, her ways and alleys

twist constant surprise—long bar room hours,

the persistence of sewer winds,

and free books in wood-glass huts on church corners.

Instead of making love the first time in the truck,

we banter when I say perhaps we should wait,

and in your vanity you become indignant

and nearly write me off.

We’ve something unsaid.

We have different ideas.

We don’t speak. 

We think of each other until Wednesday.

Manny Grimaldi is a Kentucky writer, author of Riding Shotgun with the Shotgun, and Ex Libris Ioannes Cerva. His website is mannygrimaldi.mypixieset.com .  

We Find Ourselves in Dreamtown By Trish Saunders

The rules are clear: You have 20 minutes. Use them. 

Forget the talking man behind you on television

hawking sleep aids. Much better to remember

 past afternoons walking under tall pines 

and the crunch of dead bees under your feet. 

If a hawk’s shadow flies across the wall,

that doesn’t mean the raptor is actually in here. 

The dream, which you won’t remember, features

a long-dead appaloosa mare calling to you 

across the pasture. Think how you will respond. 

Have your answer ready, just in case. 

 

Trish Saunders's poems have been featured or are forthcoming in The Rye Whiskey Review, The American Journal of Poetry, Right Hand Pointing, Eunoia Review, Chiron Review, among others. She lives in Seattle, formerly in Honolulu.