books, prose, poetry
Publisher at St. Petersburg Press What you create should stay yours, a sentiment shared with me by Amy Cianci, Publisher at St. Petersburg Press, in September. In late 2017, Amy and her business partner, Joe Hamilton, listened to the difficulties that local creatives shared in regard to the nuance of traditional publishing. Do I need…
NEIGHBORISM Look for the people doing good —look even when they are selfish and when good is not perfection, and when good is not good enough, and when good is not what is expected, and when good is uncomfortable, and when good is challenging. People are good and they are not good. Can never be…
My earliest memories of summer can be traced back to days at the beach, white sand burning my bare feet, scents of pizza by the slice and zeppoles fresh out of the fryer coating the air. They can be traced back to evenings lying in the grass of my backyard, waiting for the fireflies to…
We are always on highways, driving through cities and towns. Yet, the county is 280 square miles. Within it, 588 miles of coastline, and 20,000 acres of beautiful Florida parks and natural escapes. As summer approaches, and as rising heat threatens to melt us into the asphalt, it can become strenuous to seek the outdoors….
I sat outside the café on a fresh, spring morning in St. Petersburg, Florida. My iced coffee had condensation pooling at the base of its plastic cup. The air was warm, but a breeze brushed my arms and beneath the wispy hair on the nape of my neck. With me was my journal, a pen,…
THERE WILL BE SPRINGBy Marc Yacht Cruel and cold are the winter monthsLiving beings pursue the warmthMany just huddle togetherTo overcome frigid weather. Lakes, ponds, and rivers, ice caked, stillEmpty trees shake, bend, and shiverDry chilled air and shadows prevailRare warm sun may offer relief. Freezing days and nights pass slowlyLife itself does move at…
Spring is approaching slowly and steadily. Here on the Gulf Coast, the seasons may vary little, yet there is a shift noticed in the air when the sun suddenly kisses your skin with a deep warmth. I find that having grown up with the four seasons, I hibernate during the winter months: hiding inside, eating…
We thought we wanted more winter. More cold days. More reasons to stay inside. January and February gave us permission to slow down—to hunker in, warm fire nearby, coffee in hand, creating in slippers without an audience. Quiet months. Necessary months. The kind that let ideas breathe. But those days are behind us now. Spring…
Whether you write short stories, poetry, memoir, young adult, fantasy, or work on your journal, finding a community to settle into as a writer can be difficult. When I first moved to the Tampa Bay area, it took me some time to get accustomed to the local scene. I spent hours attending author events, art…
Malachi Sinlao By Malachi Sinlao Vermilion my self-portrait is an ‘X’ slashed upon the canvas with the most vibrant of reds. the empty space is my body, ever invisible and out of reach, clinging to the cinnabar lines as if she could use them to climb out into the real world. the negative space is…
The Work of Holding On By Janet Blair We are camping in January. Scurrying away from the post-holiday silence of empty bedrooms. Borrowing, for a few nights, a state park lot where we can shrink to essentials and fill our lungs with now. Winged Elms decorate our campsite, their naked limbs stretching and yawning overhead,…
By John C. Carter Farmhouse on a Dirt Road Her ears, hearing him yell her name again as she stands there, half-way between the house and the car. His voice, hurling obscenities, making even the dogs hide. Her hand— not as convinced as his had been— falters in its reach for the gate. The chair…
BLACK BOOTS MARCH Black boots march across the nation Hands held high with straight stiff salute Confusion and fear mark the mood As more black shirted men gather.Did we ever expect them here With steel blue eyes and stern faces Seeking out the flawed and impure Yet, there they are an uncontrolled force.The lawful courts do now permitAn effort to allow…
Kenwood Resident (St Pete) Michael SingletonPublishes Childrens Poetry Book POETRY PARTY: A Children’s Poetry Book with Developmental and Optimistic Life Lessonsby Michael Singleton Step into a colorful world of inspiring tales where animals, children, and even shoes discover the beauty of being unique. In this heartwarming collection of rhythmic stories and poems, young readers will…
In the heart of the gallery, where silence echoed louder than whispers, hung an enigma crafted from colors that defied logic. It was an abstract tapestry, a cacophony of strokes that danced upon the canvas like whispered secrets waiting to be deciphered. Amidst the murmurs of uncertainty, stood a man, a mere spectator caught in…
Poem to Another Poem This poem reads itself by the light of itself.Speaks of itself in the fifth person. Believesin me more than the devil does in evil.There will be no generic blessing. Rightnow this poem is powdered concentrate,translated from a 100-foot echo. I ama conduit for your coincidence. You areuncanny and resist the tourniquet…
Excerpt from Paul Wilborn’s novel, Florida Hustle. – Set in the world of cheap 1980s slasher films.In the opening chapter, aspiring horror filmmaker Michael Donnelly, 17, visits his favorite video store – Horror Time Video. The wooden front door of Horror Time Video was hidden behind a life-size black and white cutout of Boris Karloff’s…
Ask Me for my Pronouns Ask mefor my pronouns?It’s what we dothese days. The questionbrings up a tangleof old yarn,thoughtsI never plannedTo mess withagain. I learned pronounswomen used to say:they, theirs, different from thosecommon in the public spherehe, him, his,pronouns crownedby church and school. Some brave souls alwayspinned her and herson bits of lifethey could…
I’ve been crate digging again, not for records, not for books, not for green turtle steaks but for a graveyard plant, the ephemeral flow of lush lore. Florida in words, images of Florida, praise songs for Florida. So, hats off to the local records stores that also sell books and the books stores that also…
The stench of grief, loss and shock are everywhere permeating the area with smells of red tide and salt waterthat had crept into places that were never meant to know water in that way. Private areas of people’s livesbrutally exposed on their front lawns.Furniture strewn about, floorboards, kitchen cabinets, waterlogged stuffed animals a piano that still had songs…
I live my signifying, unrhymed, in St. Petersburg, but I am writing this scrambled treatise in Tallahassee, the tall hassle of paradise, the state capitol of Florida, the Sunshine State. I’ve come to escape the wind and water. Milton, the most literary hurricane to date. I am aware of the irony, but I leave it…
Ambition My ambition is to work the words “Christ on a bike!” into a poem. But no doubt I will end up accomplishing nothing much more than managing to eke out a modicum of wonder as I sit at sunset and spot just the right amount of wantonly accumulated cumulus to catch a bit of…
I’ve set my heart on a glimpse of you: Florida Golden Aster (Chrysopsis floridana) — listed as endangered in 1986 You are so rare I can’t find you. It’s spring and your woozy stem has yet to arise from the Florida scrub and blunt sun. Once it shoots up, your whiskery leaves will climb it all…
Like an icon for some minor but ardently worshiped deity, the painting stands behind a giant molcajete of guacamole, its colors splashier even than patrons usually expect from a Mexican restaurant, the painting, that is; the guacamole is just green. “That’s got to have a dozen avocados,” she says aloud, and although no one can hear her, the canvas vibrates lightly with her words. “This party is going to be a real wingding. Unless guacamole is all there is.” She watches as the two that brought her…
BOOK EXCERPT FOR THE ARTISAN MAGAZINE – From: Cigar City: Tales From a 1980s Creative Ghetto Fiction Gold Medal, Florida Book Awards Looking down at the chicken boiling in the stock pot, Katrina thought it could be Brian – if she had tweezed out all his hair and let his severed head soak overnight. The…
Geographically, a tombolo is the sand bar and gravel that connects an island to the mainland or connects two islands. If it were punctuation, it would be a hyphenated dash as hybrid as a bird, the lyric between sentenced bodies, a landline matchmaker that links the head to the spine, book spines. Tombolo Books, open…
Paul Wilborn’s new novel, Florida Hustle, is set in the world of cheap 1980s slasher films. In the opening chapter, aspiring horror filmmaker Michael Donnelly, 17, gets a limo ride to his favorite video store “Horror Time Video.“ Excerpt: Closing his eyes, Michael conjured his establishing shot: EXT. – Palm Beach – Day Tight on a…