Andrew K. Clark and Marijanet Doonan
Andrew K. Clark’s poetry has appeared in UCLA’s Out of Anonymity, Good Juju and Rain on Rooftops Review. Main Street Rag Press published Jesus in the Trailer, his first full-length collection of poetry, in the fall of 2019. His short story “Tangled Limbs” won second place in the 2018 Scribes Valley Short Story Contest. A native of Alexander, NC, near Asheville, Clark is searching for a home for his first novel, The Day Thief.
Andrew K. Clark
Winter Breeds Nothing
Winter breeds nothing
razor lines of clouds,
silver glass edges sharp.
Ice stretches its spine along the
wood frames of windows, finding
its way into splinters of gray.
The trees lay on their sides, fingers pointing skyward
like bones from deserted ribs, the soil
gone fallow, a long slow slipping.
Inside, she stirs the pot thickly, hand on brown hip
briefly exposed; the air is heavy with spice.
Our noses forget frost’s bite.
“Winter Breeds Nothing” © Andrew K. Clark (2019), from Reflections
Marijanet Doonan’s education in classical rhetorical criticism qualified her to be a Greek Empress, but the job market was slim. She earned degrees in psychology, education and psychiatry instead. An internationally recognized authority on brain functioning, she lectures nationally and internationally and has written extensively. She is a classical pianist, served on the boards of several symphonies and foundations, shows her champion Maltese dogs, and writes short stories and children’s picture books.
I write…and stop…and wish words would tumble
from my head onto the page in perfect lines.
Instead…thoughts crash from my brain
with little reference to specific categories –
I write…and stop…and hope time will be forgiving
and keep words alive for future pages.
Instead…clutter reigns and thoughts are lost
without notes to glue ideas in place –
tragedies of daily living.
I write….and stop….and yearn for finished stories
with plot and characters intact between alluring covers.
Instead….beginnings haunt me and stories sit without words
waiting for missing endings –
unfinished lost glories.
I write…and stop ….and wonder why I cherish
this world of words, so painful in execution.
Instead…without it, no creation of imagined worlds
no characters to live in fantasies –
stories that silently perish.
“Writing Anguish” © Marijanet Doonan (2019), from Reflections