translated to ASCII on October 10, 1996 -- %%%%% %%%%%% %%%%%% %%%% %%%%%% %%%%%% %%%%% %% %% %%%%%% %% %% %% %% %% %% %%%%%% %%%%%% %%%%%% %%%%%% %% %% %% %%% %% %% %% %% %% %% %% %% %% %% %% %%%% %% %%% %% %% %% %%%%%% %% %% %%%% %% %% %% %% %% %% % %% %%%% %%%%% %% %% %%%% %% %%%%%% %% %% %% % %% %%%% %% %% %% %% %% %%%%% %% %% %% %%% %% %% %% %%%%%% %%%%%% %% %% %% %% %%%%%% %% %%% %% %% %% %%%% %%%%%% %% %% %% %% %%%%%% %% %% %% %% dedicated to the art of the written word volume 1, issue 3 "bringing it in under 150k" August 1995 ================================ POETRY INK 1.03 / ISSN 1091-0999 ================================ POETRY INK volume 1, issue 3 August 1995 **Featuring work by** Karen Alkalay-Gut Michael Morrow John Freemyer Larissa Smith Rebecca E. Hays Richard Epstein Jerrold Rabushka In This Issue ------------- **From the Editor's Desktop** This is the third issue of POETRY INK, and I must say that I am quite pleased with the response we have generated on the on-line world. We have received submissions from as far away as Israel and as close as just across town (which happens to be St. Louis, Missouri, USA). As many of you may know, each issue of POETRY INK is initially uploaded to eWorld(tm), Apple Computer Corporation's on-line service. Until recently, eWorld(tm) was the only place POETRY INK was available. However, I am happy to report that some kind soul has posted POETRY INK on America On-Line(tm) in the Macintosh Desktop Publishing Forum, and that some one else has posted our submission guidelines in the newsgroup rec.arts.poems. May these people be eternally blessed by their Muses! POETRY INK strives to bring diversity into its pages, which is tremendously hard to do when we have a limited distribution base. To combat this possible problem, we are currently seeking volunteers to post and promote POETRY INK on various on-line services and Internet sites. If you are interested in lending a hand, please see the Help Wanted section immediately following our masthead. Each issue of POETRY INK is a challenge to produce. I originally wanted to do all the page design in Adobe PageMaker(tm) (I bought a copy with my Mac when it was still Aldus's flagship product) and then produce it using Adobe's Acrobat(tm) PDF format, which would give me the cross-platform functionality other electronic newsletters enjoy. Then I realized how much Acrobat(tm) costs and how large the files are; even when compressed by Aladdin's StuffIt(tm) compression software they are 200-500k. So instead I turned to designing it all in WordPerfect(tm) and producing it in eDOC format, which is what you are now reading. eDOC is a superb shareware printer driver which I wholeheartedly recommend for anyone interested in producing electronic newsletters and magazines such as this. It is one of only three shareware products I have ever thought worth the shareware fee (the others being Aladdin's StuffIt Lite(tm), a must for any Mac user, and Tiger Technologies' Menuette 2.0.1 control panel). We enjoy the flexibility eDOC gives us. By using fonts residing in almost everyone's Mac System Folder, we found we can bring POETRY INK in at under 150k per issue. Sometimes we will go over, but I think 150k is a reasonable aim--it's less than two minute's download time at 14,400 bps. When I started this thing, I had no idea what I was committing myself to doing. Now I know. And I like it. Editing POETRY INK has basically become a second job for me--one which does not pay monetary rewards, but is a reward in itself. I am committed to making POETRY INK the best on-line electronic magazine of its kind, and I think it will happen. And I am asking for your support. So pass on your copy of POETRY INK to a friend, upload it to your local BBS, link it to your World Wide Web page, whatever. Spill the Ink and spread the word. POETRY INK is here is to stay. Matthew W. Schmeer, editor POETRY INK ---------- **Editor** Matthew W. Schmeer **e-mail** **snail mail** Matthew W. Schmeer POETRY INK PRODUCTIONS 6711-A Mitchell Avenue St. Louis, MO 63139-3647 U.S.A. POETRY INK is a regular, erratically published E-zine (electronic magazine). Anyone interested in submitting poetry, short fiction, or essays should see the last two pages of this document for submission instructions. If writing via snail mail, please include a #10-sized self-addressed stamped envelope so that we may respond to you. Donations of food, money, software, and hardware are gracefully accepted. Legal Stuff ----------- POETRY INK is copyrighted 1995 by POETRY INK PRODUCTIONS, a wholly owned subsidiary of the imagination of Matthew W. Schmeer. POETRY INK can be freely distributed, provided it is not modified in any way, shape, or form. Specifically: * All commercial on-line services, such as eWorld(tm), America On-Line(tm), and CompuServe(tm), and local BBSs may distribute POETRY INK at no charge. * All non-profit user groups may distribute POETRY INK at no charge. * All CD-ROM shareware collections and CD-ROM magazines may not include POETRY INK without prior written consent. * All redistribution companies such as Educorp may not distribute POETRY INK without express written consent. POETRY INK PRODUCTIONS retains one-time rights and the right to reprint this issue, either printed or electronic. All other rights to works appearing in POETRY INK written by authors other than Matthew W. Schmeer revert to said authors upon publication. POETRY INK is produced on an Apple Macintosh(tm) Color Classic(tm) running System Software 7.1. POETRY INK is initially uploaded to eWorld(tm), with further Internet distribution by our readers. We use Global Village Teleport Gold(tm) II Fax/Modems. POETRY INK is produced using MicroFrontier's ColorIt!(tm) 2.3.2, Novell Corp.'s WordPerfect(tm) 3.1, and Michel & Francois Touchot's eDOC 1.1. We encourage others to support these fine hardware manufacturers and software programmers. Help Wanted ----------- As mentioned earlier in this issue, POETRY INK is originally released on eWorld(tm). Unfortunately, eWorld(tm) does not offer extended Internet services such as eMailing file attachments, uploading to ftp sites, or a way to design individual World Wide Web pages. Until such time as they do offer these services (and probably after as well), POETRY INK's publishers are asking for a little help. POETRY INK is currently seeking volunteers to Spill the Ink across the Internet! We are looking for people to upload POETRY INK to: * America On-Line(tm) * CompuServe(tm) * sumex-aim.stanford.edu (Internet Macintosh ftp software archive) * mac.archive.umich.edu (another Internet Macintosh ftp software archive) And to post POETRY INK's Submission Guidelines on a monthly basis to the newsgroups: * rec.arts.poems * scruz.poetry * rec.arts.prose And finally, to: * link POETRY INK to a Web Page for downloading * set up an Internet e-mail subscription service Ideally, we are looking for one individual to do the postings and link POETRY INK to a Web Page, one individual to handle the subscription service, and another to upload POETRY INK to the commercial on-line services mentioned (That's a total of three for you mathematicians out there). If you have regular access to any of the above mentioned electronic forums, please consider helping out! The more POETRY INK spreads across the Internet, the better we will get. We regret that at this time we cannot compensate our volunteers for their efforts. However, they will be given our undying gratitude and many blessings from their Muses. Plus, their names will become permanently etched into our masthead and given credit for their support. If interested, please eMail us at , and tell us which duties you would be willing to fulfill! Dedication ---------- Dedicated To Michelle Rene Werner (welcome to the world!) Featured Writer --------------- Okay, I admit it. I blew it this month and forgot to ask somebody to be the Featured Writer for this issue. But rather than just leave this section empty, I thought this would be an ideal opportunity to answer a few questions people have been asking regarding POETRY INK. I think the two most frequently asked questions are "Why are you publishing POETRY INK?" and "What sort of stuff are you looking to publish?" These are both excellent questions, and they deserve answers. As I cannot respond to each individual query, I hope my answers in this forum will suffice those curious minds. The answer to why I am publishing POETRY INK can be found in the first issue which was produced; as Issue 1 was not widely distributed, I think the story behind POETRY INK bears repeating. I believe the electronic media will eventually replace the more traditional forms of written communication. With the popularization of the Internet spreading like wildfire, the millions of users tapping into the world-wide communication database provide artists and writers like myself a ready-and-waiting audience hungering for entertainment, knowledge, and a feeling of focused human interest. When this is tied to the fact that the monetary cost of electronic publishing is only production time and connection charges, it is amazing that big name publishing houses are not pushing their books and authors out into cyberspace. Of course, the reason for this is simple: they can't make a profit if anybody can freely download Stephen King's or Jackie Collins's latest work and just give copies to whomever wants one. So we are left with works in the public domain whose copyright has expired, such as many of those put out by the fine folks involved with Project Gutenberg. But what about the rest of us? Many of us would like to see our name in print and feel that rush when we realize someone other than ourselves will actually read our work. But when the "Literary Littles" are shuttering their doors and closing down, when even the big publishing houses like Alfred A. Knopf are dropping well-known poets such as Donald Finkle from their ranks, when poetry magazines are backlogged for months, where should we turn? Well, the answer is clear. Cyberspace. Perhaps we won't reap any monetary rewards (but then, who's in this for the money anyway?), but the satisfaction of seeing our work in print is a payoff in itself. So that is why I decided to start this thing. After getting rejection letter after rejection letter, I decided that if I couldn't get published somewhere else, I'd just have to do it myself. However, I can't just publish my stuff alone--Lord knows I write a lot, but not enough to fill an entire magazine. Therefore, I put out a call for submissions and you, dear readers, answered my call. I can confidently say I have received several hundred submissions, and it has been difficult to wade through all this text and find the real gems. Some of you may be wondering what I mean by "real gems." Well, to be perfectly honest, I have discovered that I have formed several hard-edged, no-compromisable opinions about writing in general and poetry in specific. I share these with you because I think this "Poetry Manifesto" sums up pretty much what I look for when I talk about quality submissions to POETRY INK. So hopefully the following will answer the question regarding what I am looking for: * I'd rather read a poem which challenges me than one which asks too little. I don't read poetry to be entertained; I read it to make me think. I like a poem which makes me think about WHY I feel the way the poem makes me feel. * I like simplistic and minimalistic images in poetry--the way the words work together to be simple when presenting complex images and still getting that image across. William Carlos Williams and Sir Philip Sidney come to mind. * I like narrative forms; that's why I stick to free verse. I think free verse is the saving grace of contemporary poetry, but I see a trend towards using traditional forms. A mastery of form allows your other works to flow even better. Some forms like sestinas and villanelles do allow much room for creativity, but I always come back to free verse. * Grammar is the backbone of free verse; without it all you have is junk on a page. People think grammar can just get thrown out the window where poetry is concerned. I hate it when people don't use any punctuation at all, as if they are above the lowly comma. * A bad line break can throw a poem way, way, way off course. My point is that it is the way a poet writes the lines on the page that make it a poem. Those of you who have read e.e. cummings or Richard Wilbur know what I mean. * The best way to appreciate the nuance of meter is to read it aloud. * Poetry must stand the test of being read aloud as well as silently on the page. It must be read aloud because that is what poetry is all about. The first poets were the keepers of wisdom and tales in tribal times. * Poetry makes good therapy, but therapy does not make good poetry in most cases. Most people writing out of angst don't take the time to re-write and re-work their poetry. They just spew it out and think that's all there is to it. Good poetry takes work and work and work-often months. Poems need to be worked and worked and reworked and by that time, the original feeling is often bruised and battered and barely even there. Poems I wrote five to ten years ago are still in a constant state of revision. * Love poems, suicide poems, and "gee, it's a nice sunny day" poems have all been done better by somebody else (most notably Wild Bill Shakespeare, Sylvia Plath, and Rod McKuen, respectively). Skip them and move on. * Successful poetry (or fiction for that matter) allows another person to experience the same emotions as the writer intended. Really successful poetry allows another person to experience the opposite emotions which the writer intended. Anne Sexton's volume of reworked fairy tales "Transformations" is an excellent example these principles. * Rhyme should not be obvious. If you use rhyme in your verse, it should not be forced or contribute a "Dr. Suess-like" quality. Rhyme should be subtle; even when writing traditional verse such as troilets or sonnets, rhyme should be understated and flow or blend in with the rest of the work. * Heroic couplets died a nice quiet death during and immediately after the Restoration. Let's leave it that way. * If you want to write good poetry, read good poetry first. Start with the classics--and I do mean the classics. Start with the Ancient Greeks and work your way up to the contemporaries over time. And don't forget to read the Bible, the Koran, and any other religious text you can get your hands on. Sacred texts are the most widely accepted poetical works read today, and if you read them cover to cover you'll soon learn why. * Write for at least an hour and a half everyday right after dinner, and remember that nothing ever comes out on paper completely done. Well, that's it. I think I covered all the bases here. Of course, all of this is just my opinion, and is up for debate. In fact, I welcome your letters, suggestions, and criticism; just send them to , and I will try to get back to you. I am considering adding a Reader Feedback Section and your overall response will help decide whether or not to do so. Also, I am thinking of adding a writing contest or two sometime in the future. If you think this is a good idea, please eMail me and let me know what kind of topic or slant the contest should have and what sort of prizes should be offered. Anyway, I think I've run out of steam. Please enjoy this issue and drop our contributors a line to let them know you what you thought of their work. And remember, Spill the Ink! Karen Alkalay-Gut ----------------- 2 poems _Telephone_ Do you remember me? I remember you the way my tongue remembers feeling for a new tooth sprouting in young gums I've come out of hiding You still hide from me your back against the cold brick wall How are things with you? How I needed a kind word when you were gone How I learned to live with that need When can we meet? Anytime never _The Captive_ You are in the other corner of the large room, sitting by the door, while I am engaged in empty talking on the stage and my heart moves in its cage -- I recognize all those eyes. you have brought them both today -- prisoner and guard. Sometimes I knock and the watchman says, "No visiting -- especially not someone like you -- perhaps you can bring a note from the warden and then who knows." And sometimes he says there is no one confined, and I play gin with him and wait. There might be a cry from the dungeon or I may be able to circumvent him with a circuitous route to the bathroom and walk by the bars and touch the hand extended in the dark before I return for another round of cards. "How silly you are. I don't know what you mean," says the guard, but today it is very clear - the prisoner from far away screams. Michael Morrow -------------- short fictiom _Under the Umbrella_ Bracing myself against the chill December wind, I push open the heavy mahogany door to the church and step back into the world of the living. Behind me, the throng of friends and family mumbles and small-talks as they, too, file out of the vestibule into the frigid evening air. I sigh as the weather washes over me, stinging my face as pinpoint beads of sweat freeze to my whiskers. I quicken my pace, anxious to distance myself from the stiff-backed pews and black-wool stuffiness that nearly smothered me during the memorial service. A few familiar voices call my name, but I button my overcoat and continue walking. The last thing I want is to talk to them, much less go out for drinks to celebrate Jasmine's memory. Jasmine and I had been lovers once, years ago, in a much less scary time. A time before testing and red ribbons and safe-sex public service announcements. We remained friends after the break-up; our shared passion for animated discussions over a good cup of coffee outlived any other passions we may have once shared, and we never failed to meet at Edna's on Thursday nights. Until last year, that is, when we began to get together according to whether or not Jasmine was feeling well on a given night. I've never quite forgiven myself for my reaction when Jasmine told me she was Positive. My muscles tensed in unison, and all I could think about was what that meant for me. At that stage of the game, sex was little more than a recreational sport for me. I'd never even thought of being tested, and for all I knew maybe I had given her the death sentence. Or worse, given myself the death sentence. I felt as if I truly knew fear for the first time--I couldn't speak, I couldn't move. Those first tears were for myself. As I looked and saw the fear welling up in Jasmine's eyes, I turned my eyes away, angry, and even a bit ashamed, at my reaction. After that night, it was Jasmine who would often look about distractedly -- sometimes in shame, sometimes in despair, sometimes in an emotion that only touches those who know they may soon die. I'm no longer in the slick part of town where Jasmine's parents live, but closer to my own home. Realizing this, I decide that home is too haunted a place to be right now. A glance at my watch and a brief pause to light a cigarette slow me down just long enough to decide against going to Edna's, and I turn the corner. "Hey, man you gotta light for me?" From out of the street lamp shadows, a shattered bag of bones emerges, pinching a crushed-out cigarette butt between his fingers. His voice rattles inside his throat, as if the skin of his neck is too loose to keep his voice box in, as he asks me again. "D'ja hear me, doctor? You gotta light for me?" Wordlessly, I pull out a fresh cigarette, light it, and hand it over to the man. His lips are blistered at the corners, and I shudder as I move on, recalling the painful, awkward hours spent smoothing ointment on the sores that Jasmine couldn't reach. I throw my own cigarette into the street. The burning tip makes a long, slow arc before it hits the pavement ahead of me and rolls into a puddle of melted slush. Several blocks of mental small-talk later, I come across my destination: Sid's Cafe Americana, a hole-in-the-wall diner with coffee like motor oil and an array of always-empty tables. I pull on the door, ringing the bell attached to the handle. A squat and unshaven man behind the counter nods inquisitively as I enter. "Coffee, and an order of fries." I make my way to a seat directly across from a First Aid for Choking Victims sign, brush a straw wrapper off the chair and sit down. The tumultuous splattering of my dinner being dropped in the fryer mutes the clicking of my Zippo as I light another cigarette. Again with a nod, the man brings me a steaming mug, well-worn from the dishwasher. The coffee nearly scalds my tongue as I sample the bitter brew. A few minutes later, a plate of grease and french fries sits before me. I set the cigarette in the tin ashtray and watch the ash grow longer as I eat. We are alone in the restaurant, Sid and I, and I can hear his congested breathing from across the room. I glance over; he is sitting behind the counter, hunched over a magazine that holds his complete attention. I finish my fries, and stare at the lone deco print near the men's room for several minutes before I interrupt him. I receive $2.47 in change and return to the cold silence outside. The air is crisp and winter-clear as I wander back towards home. Above is the unfriendly slate umbrella of sky, city lights and cloud cover obscuring the stars, myriad as the memories pushing their way from the back of my mind. They flutter and dance around my head but do not land, kept at bay by an occasional swatting motion with my gloved right hand. Preventing the memories from alighting there occupies my thoughts the entire way home; if one should find its way through my defenses, the rest will follow. And the night is cold enough already. John Freemyer ------------ 1 poem _Suburban Vampire_ The drug dealer down the street here in the suburbs of Los Angeles is a gringo who drives a big white pickup with a chrome tool box mounted in the back. I've seen him in a blue tuxedo, his girlfriend in a soft blue dress. Ordinary folks. You might mistake them for human beings. But I caught a glimpse of the pickup in my rearview mirror one afternoon as it raced up behind me to make the green light. No driver. Larissa Smith ------------- 2 poems _Requiem In Three Acts_ One_ Far too sudden, this shearing away of life, Of breath, whole branches of Destiny's fan Silently ceasing to be between one breath and the next. For no apparent reason, all of these still silent dead, whether futile Or merely improbable. Hearing this news is like dying in childbed, Knowing that the life torn from you in blood and agony Will not outlive you long. Two_ These funerals are for the living, they say. Unlikely. Or at least for a different variety of living than I, Who find no solace in afterlives or reincarnations. They have not gone on, nor crossed over, nor gone ahead, Nor any of the other euphemisms With which we trivialize our losses. They are there in the cold earth and will never come out, Blank unawareness and dirt filling sightless eyes. The person I knew has vanished And left me behind to stand on the grass at the foot of the grave, Carefully walled, unfeeling, Remembering not his laughter but his face in the coffin. My migraines smell of roses and formaldehyde. Three_ And, for a while, there are nightmares. Until I manage to forget this one as well, Put out of my mind the hollow panic at a certain song, The memory of friendship and sometimes love. And I, who stood clear-eyed by the grave because I dared not feel, Weep sometimes in the safety of my dreams. Grief metastasizes like a cancer, Eating away at the soul and the gut Until the emptiness that remains is of a size to hold, Small and diamond-hard, The cold tumor of being left behind. _Songs From The Event Horizon_ Poor doomed particles, you dance Like acolytes of Bacchus on the Long-ago hillsides of Greece, Mirroring your dopplegangers On the far side of distant reality; With your perilously escaping Radiation, you are small Homers, Singing the bittersweet cantos Of dying suns for earthbound ears Homesick for the stars. We watch your dance as our fathers Watched the fires on the hillside, Gathering with their iron swords And uniforms of lost empires' armies To hear the blind poets Who sang to us of gods. Rebecca E. Hays --------------- 1 poem _Moonshadow_ Last night I saw you walking toward me 'cross the surface of the moon.... flickering between existences of night darker than the universal sky and the starkly strobing ever-daylight... Calmly you searched the brilliant here and the stygian gone, smiling confidently, thinking to find me standing, beautiful in the glow of Sol.... A dry moonwind blew parched moondust... Irrelevant cyclones whirled 'round your feet beseeching permission to guide.... ....but their strength was less real than the moonwind that gave them birth.... You probed onward.... Passing slowly through the moonshadow of my hiding place, at my side to pause, unsure, near enough to feel the sigh of my agony, then pass on.... Disappearing again into the gone of nonexistence, only becoming actual once more in striding away.... far behind where I ever-sit. The moonwind kindly, thirstily, drank my tears. Richard Epstein --------------- 1 poem _Towns In Such Movies_ In the towns where they make such movies, with white fences and moms who stay home, bake pies, do floors, and starch their aprons, are found aphids, not lice, not streetcrime, and the drug of choice is sympathy, come incarnated as soft white bread and lunch meat--pink and white. As are all. Dads shave, dogs fetch. The trash knows its place, in the can or at the curb. On the coasts, peripheral and multi-cuisined, men lead strange lives, women know best; even the cops menace. But from these flicks dawn comes up on cornflakes, and bacon scents the white day, while schoolboys cheer. Jerrold Rabushka ---------------- 1 poem _Wireflies_ Swept across wires Like a wind across Kansas Like a trucker fording Highway 70 To quench unseen passion at unseen oasis Your voice electricflows on direct current to my heart And wrestles me onto a rack of fantasy Like a strong hurricane storm wind From below Strange beliefs that this is it this is real I lick up sounds from the puddle As your voice drips strong off the wires Into my desperate desert Filling my swollen heart With lies of the truth That I can fallglide into your own life As easy as landing a plane on a giant runway Where you guide me into your deepest eyes And into one kiss that says that Years later One of us will die Before our love Call For Thematic Works! ------------------------ That's right! Thematic works! We've extended the deadline another month! We are currently seeking submissions for a special upcoming issue of POETRY INK based upon a specific theme. We hope you answer the call! Don't let us down! The special issue's theme will be (drum roll please!): NIGHT AND THE CITY Send us your poems! Send us your fiction! Send us your essays! Send us your money! Send us photos of your cat dressed in drag! That's right! To repeat, our first theme issue's theme will be: NIGHT AND THE CITY Interpret this as you may. Submissions for the special theme issue must be in by August 31, 1995. Regular submission guidelines apply (so read those chapters!), except the subject of your submission must be "SUBMIT N&C: your name" where "your name" is your actual name, and not the name of your e-mail account. For example, it should look like this: SUBMIT N&C: John Q. Public Accepted submissions will be notified by e-mail as soon as possible. Non-accepted submissions will not. Life sucks. Deal with it. About The Contributors ---------------------- Karen Alkalay-Gut teaches English poetry at Tel Aviv University in Tel Aviv, Israel. Her poems _Windows And Doors_ and _Elvis_ appeared in the second issue of POETRY INK. Her latest books are "Ignorant Armies" (Cross-Cultural Communications, 1994) and "Recipes" (Golan, 1994). Michael Morrow is a senior at Beloit College, in Beloit, Wisconsin, where he is pursuing a degree in Creative Writing and Literary Studies with a minor in Sociolinguistics. Three years ago he co-founded "Pocket Lint", a small but nationally distributed literary journal, and has worked as both Poetry Editor and Senior Editor. When not writing, Michael thoroughly enjoys sleeping and playing bass guitar in Naked, a rock band based in the Chicago area. John Freemyer lives in Los Angeles. His earlier poetry was published in "Coliform" and "Machine Tribe" between 1979 & 1982. He recently began writing poetry again after emerging victoriously from a fifteen year bout with manic-depression. _Suburban Vampire_ is his first published poem in thirteen years. Larissa Smith is a first-year graduate student in the Department of Psychology at the University of California-Riverside. Her hobbies and interests include history, the Society for Creative Anachronism, forensic science and theoretical physics. This is her first nontechnical publication. Rebecca E. Hays lives in Cascade, Maryland, a place she describes as a "tiny rural town." Due to a severe physical diability she is virtually homebound and therefore spends much of her time writing fiction and poetry which she shares with those friends she has met on-line. She welomes comments and criticism of her work. This is her first appearance in print. Richard Epstein's poetry continues to appear in a wide assortment of mostly obscure journals, both in the U.S.A. and in Great Britain. Recent credits include "Staple" and "Seam" in England; "Lyric", "10x6", and "Potpourri" here in the States. He makes his living as a litigation paralegal. Two of his books, "Second Thoughts" and "The Missouri Shores", are currently under consideration for publication. Jerrold Rabushka is the associate editor of "The Paint Dealer", a nationally distributed trade magazine for the paint industry. He also writes for two local St. Louis magazines, "Spotlight" and "The St. Louis Artesian". His poems _Tonya Harding_ and _Jewish Holidays_ appeared in the second issue of POETRY INK . He also plays keyboards. Loud. Submission Guidelines --------------------- (You may want to print this for future reference.) * Failure to follow these guidelines will mean automatic rejection of your submission! Please read the following very carefully! * By submitting works for consideration, you agree that if accepted for publication, you grant POETRY INK, the electronic magazine produced by POETRY INK PRODUCTIONS and Matthew W. Schmeer the right to publish your work. This right includes initial publication and any subsequent re-release of the issue of POETRY INK in which your work appeared, either in the electronic or the printed medium. All other rights to your work are released to you upon publication. If we wish to publish your work in a different issue of POETRY INK, we will contact you for permission to do so and acknowledge your right of refusal. * By submitting work for consideration, you acknowledge that the works you are submitting are your own original works and are products of your own design. You further agree that we have the right to request additional information from you regarding the source(s) of your work and any related topic thereof. You agree that if your work is found to be a derivative of copyrighted material by another author or artist, you, and not POETRY INK PRODUCTIONS and/or Matthew W. Schmeer, will be liable for any physical or monetary damage assessed under the jurisdiction of the courts of the United States of America and the conventions of the International Copyright Law. * By submitting works for consideration, you acknowledge that you are not nor will ever be requesting monetary compensation for the right of POETRY INK PRODUCTIONS to publish your work. You therefore acknowledge the only compensation due to you by POETRY INK PRODUCTIONS is access to a copy of the issue of POETRY INK in which your work appeared. Acceptable access to POETRY INK is the posting of POETRY INK on eWorld, America On-Line, the Internet at sumex-aim.stanford.edu and mac.archive.umich.edu, and via e- mail sent directly to you; whichever we decide is fair and cost-effective. * Submissions should be written in the English language. We regret that we are unable to publish work in foreign languages, but we cannot spend time flipping through foreign language dictionaries trying to check grammar, spelling, and meaning. Unless you can provide an English translation to a work in a foreign language, forget about it. * No previously published work may be submitted. Simultaneous submissions are okay. In the case of simultaneous submissions, please contact us if your work has been accepted by another publication so that we may remove the work in question from consideration. * All submissions must have your name, postal address, age, and e-mail address included on each individual work. You may submit work via U.S. Mail or e-mail. See below for addresses. NOTE: e-mail submissions are highly preferred. * No gratuitous obscenity or profanity, although erotic material is okay. If you think it's too graphic, then it probably is and won't be published in this forum. * Please keep poems under 3 printed pages apiece (page size = 8" x 11" page with 1" margins printed with Times 12-point plain font). * Please limit short stories to under 5000 words. * No more than 5 poems or 2 short stories submitted per person per issue. * Submissions should be submitted as plain ASCII e-mail files or as StuffIt compressed (.sit) attachments to e-mail messages. Compressed files should be in plain text format (the kind produced by SimpleText). Regardless of submission format, please use the subject line "SUBMIT POETRY INK: your name" where "your name" is your actual name and not the name of your e-mail account. Omit the quotation marks. For example, it should look like this: SUBMIT POETRY INK: John Q. Public * Manuscripts and submissions cannot be returned, nor can we offer any constructive criticism unless we decide to publish your work and have serious reservations regarding content or structure. You will not receive notification that your work was received; while we regret this inconvenience, you must realize we have to support ourselves somehow. Therefore, due to the amount of expected submissions, we cannot acknowledge receipt of your work unless we decide to publish it. * If your work is accepted for publication, you will be notified as soon as possible via e-mail. If you prefer to be notified by U.S. Mail, please indicate this preference on your submission. Your e-mail address will be published when crediting your work. If you prefer us not to do so, please indicate this on your submission as well. * Subscribers to the PATCHWORK mailing list will be given special consideration in the selection process. For information regarding PATCHWORK, or to subscribe, send an e-mail message to patchwork- request@nyx.cs.du.edu, with the subject "HELP" (no quotes). It is not necessary to include any text in the body of the message. All submissions, inquiries, and comments should be directed to: e-mail: snail mail: Matthew W. Schmeer POETRY INK PRODUCTIONS 6711-A Mitchell Avenue St. Louis, MO 63139-3647 USA ..