Yes, we are still here! Yes, we are late, but not really late, since there will be a change in the publication schedule. Issues will now be released about every 8 weeks (or so). So, if you were supposed to be in this issue, which was the April issue originally, you are in this issue. If you were supposed to be in the May issue, you will be in the next, which will be the August (or so) issue. Thanks for the patience. Enough of the confusion, there are many fine pieces of poetry to enjoy!
However, we must start with a transition from the confusion to the poetry and Max Suechting, an English major at Amherst College, gives us a great piece to do so, with black is the light…
Two Buffalo area poets give us some somber, reflective poetry. Marge Merrill co-hosts a spoken word venue in Amherst, NY, and her Orange Kisses would sound fine read aloud. Teacher Marek P. Parker, who knows Marge, might want to perform his My Escape at her club. It has potential to carry lots of emotional voice. There have been lots of short poems submitted in the last few months. Some are structured pieces, like Dennis Pupello’s 4 Haiku. The Florida resident evidently spends lots of time enjoying nature. Texas attorney Eric V. Blanchard shares his view of nature with the brief Young Rose. Catherine Zickgraf is proud that she found her son, placed for adoption two decades ago, through myspace. Her Hotel is four lines of the bittersweet of life. Arti Subramanian, a new Doctor, returns to our pages with Eye Of The Beholder, with some bittersweet of her own. Gary Beck tells us that he has been a theater director, tennis pro, ditch digger, salvage diver and an art dealer. He sends us three short poems: Mass Destruction, Trapped, and Tempus from New York City. What’s Left of Him, by Lia Moore, is a raw look at the world from someone who says she received her GED in county jail and currently lives with her Man Servant/Fiancé in Florida. Maine resident Don Dremsa says he writes to sort out his life and the world around him. Lobo wails seems to me more like he is blending the two, rather than sorting it all out. Something in the wildness of his poem caught my attention. Justin Hyde also makes a return to HMJ. He sorts things in his life, his work and the world with his poetry. He has a knack for drawing the reader into the poem, as though we know the characters personally, and the same is true in the man in back who ran the label machine. Robert Dilley of New Jersey says he writes short stories, and The Sculptor may feel more short story than poem, but it develops great images for the reader. Arthur Woods Seeley is back this issue, showing us his accomplished style in Sisyphus at St. Anne’s. He has turned a morning walk and observation into a smooth-reading journey. Los Angeles English teacher Kevin Stack has the same problem as other writers, poets and artists—he notices everything. And the smallest event becomes something worth sharing, as evidenced in No One Here Is A Magician. This issue finishes with a piece from University of Colorado student Zachary Lundgren. Appropriately titled summer, who among us has not been there and cannot identify with his words?
-Steve Meador
