There was no mystery in his heart,
was there? While punctilious in
linear details, decorous in commenting
about, say, prostitutes in passing,
in Amsterdam, there’s really
It’s as if the landscape’s
flat, barren, except for being
steeped in a kind of attitude–
Josephine, his wife, praying in
Lourdes (because she liked prayer),
(because she’s a good person.)
Perhaps it’s their Faustian
world tour; no it’s not that,
we can agree whole-heartedly
on that. A last hurrah, before
muted days of being home.
No Hitchcock mystery!
I’m haunted by the specter of
Harold and Josephine sitting on
a bench in some railway station
watching the world go by.
Weren’t they fully formed,
a finished work by then?
In case you’ve been living under a rock, we’ve started on a new theme for the journal. “Sweet Sorrow” it is. It calls for one to revisit the past, find the sap at wherever points can be found, and let it, at each point, to all ooze out. That’s one reading I suppose. This time round I want you to stick to this theme if only to try and come up with a cohesive body of poems. It’s to create a thread I suppose. And in case I haven’t spoken of it (and I haven’t), the idea is to eventually come up with a poem manuscript of 20-30 poems. If you do come up with that many poems, and if they’re are good enough (yea every single one of them), then you could submit to Red Wolf Journal. We’re looking at poem manuscripts from now till pretty much the rest of the year to publish digital collections by individual poets. But if that’s too much for you, then you could still write random poems and submit to our Spring/Summer 2017 issue. Submissions open!