Tag Archives: whiskey

albert degenova | thanksgiving poem

Young buck drags             his hindquarters – eyes wild for escape –             across the unlit road. The car ahead             had swerved, pulled         off the road our friends out of their car             shaking, pacing, Oh Jeez! Oh Jeez! in a field, behind             the struggling, the useless legs. Call the police. An accident.    Flashlight.    A shot. Heaving steamy breath. Second shot. To the head.    Silence.             Policeman pulls the carcass to the gravel shoulder.             Highway crew’s morning pick-up. Again the moonlight, white             frost, empty fields. Farther up the highway, a country tavern, our friend’s son, bartender and chef, serves us whiskey, no ice, no flourish – his friends go             for the carcass, the precious meat cannot be left             to spoil. Out back the buck is dressed. The tenderloin removed and fried with onions and carrots. A white plate is passed along the bar for sharing, thinly-sliced dark-colored venison, one communal fork. The plate             reaches us, we hesitate a moment. The taste is wild, it tastes             like running.
Albert DeGenova is a poet, writer, editor and publisher. He is the author of four books of poetry, and for the past 30-plus years has worked as a journalist, public relations practitioner, copywriter and marketing communications professional. From 1978 to 1980, he was an editor of the Oyez Review, published by Roosevelt University. In June of 2000 he launched the literary/arts journal, After Hours, for which he continues as publisher and editor. Albert holds an MFA in writing and is an adjunct professor at Concordia University in River Forest, Illinois. He is also a blues saxophonist and one-time contributing editor to Down Beat magazine. http://albertdegenova.outlawpoetry.com http://www.afterhourspress.com http://www.linkedin.com/in/aldegenova
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ron wallace | war horses

Bukowski is inside-reading; I leave him at my desk to wait the dead of winter with whiskey and cigars             and walk outside onto the cedar deck. I carry leather, stone, steel and oak with me into the elements             Dickey, Jeffers, Komunyakaa and Howard Starks; these are my war horses.             They bleed Whitman, sometimes in fine arterial spray, sometimes in droplets that spatter in bright red splotches             and sometimes -- sometimes they seep, saturating the pages. They speak of horses, hawks, yellow jackets and mountain boomers, Osage County, Buckhead and Bogalusa             and I listen for echoes in trees and rain beyond the empty clink of beer bottles where unfolding black steals the sunset,             as I lift worn western heels up onto a low wrought iron table to watch a changing sky             before reading the blood.
Ron Wallace, currently an adjunct professor of English at Southeastern Oklahoma State University, is the author of five volumes of poetry. Published in a wide variety of journals and anthologies, his first book, Native Son, was a Finalist in the 2007 Oklahoma Book Awards, and Oklahoma Cantos was a Finalist in the 2011 Awards. His newly released book is baseball themed and entitled Hanging the Curveball.