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	<title>Liebamour</title>
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	<link>http://liebamour.com</link>
	<description>The Psychedelic Literary Journal</description>
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		<title>&#8220;Boiling an Egg in a Paper Bag&#8221; &#8211; Michael M. Marks</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2010/02/boiling-an-egg-in-a-paper-bag-michael-m-marks/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2010/02/boiling-an-egg-in-a-paper-bag-michael-m-marks/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 18 Feb 2010 04:45:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=153</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Boiling an egg in a paper bag, a campfire crusade for the captain’s closure as a shrunken sky ripples and blurs like an impure sea as wormy smoke steals an ancient glow melting races and faiths – they all dropped their genes as I suck out the yolk with a straw. For exercise I cycle <a href='http://liebamour.com/2010/02/boiling-an-egg-in-a-paper-bag-michael-m-marks/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Boiling an egg in a paper bag,<br />
a campfire crusade for the captain’s closure<br />
as a shrunken sky ripples and blurs<br />
like an impure sea as wormy smoke<br />
steals an ancient glow melting<br />
races and faiths – they all dropped their genes<br />
as I suck out the yolk with a straw.<br />
For exercise I cycle to the wind farm,<br />
mother of power stomach of weather<br />
lost on plain and slippery shore of doubt.<br />
Penniless I walk on my head for balance,<br />
check my book for sanity and pleasure<br />
circling about my never empty plate<br />
of last chicken Humpty hardened breakfast.</p>
<hr />
<p>Starting in Cincinnati, still entrenched in the Midwest, Michael M. Marks was schooled during the cold war/fallout shelter era evolving to anti-Vietnam war college days, from Elvis to the Rolling Stones.  The first of the baby-boomers, he is the middle child of five born in a six year span, always fighting to be heard.  Currently younger than each of his own five children, he recently celebrated his fifteenth birthday for the forty-eighth time.</p>
<p>This poem is part of a larger work called <em>28 American Sonnets</em>. Below is Marks&#8217; description of the work:</p>
<div style="margin-left: 30px; margin-right: 30px">
<p><strong style="font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%;">Preface</strong></p>
<p>As the 15th century ended, the perception of our planet turned from flat to globular, from two to three dimensions hanging in a larger body.  I have convinced myself that the shape of our existence transcends three dimensions.  Consider the dissection of a multi-dimensional magical Mobius strip, transforming into its simple origin, returning to its base, the fictional spot pointing to a single invisible dot where all forms start&#8211;or end.  Is there truly such a period in the complex symmetry of all we can imagine?</p>
<p>If so, the images are so brutally obtuse compared with anything we know, hence the pieces of the evolution revolution only attempt to be hazy tickles or perplexing blind eye glimpses of backward, upside down, or inside-out stages of firecracker happenings interpreted by almost lost instincts camouflaged in word orders a psyche apart, relating to flashes of strange lifeform cycle changes.</p>
<p>There must be a lifecycle order, as evidenced by reoccurring sequences and man’s continual quest to document similarities.  I tease the yet to be discovered formula of regeneration, hiding somewhere like the fountain of youth, in fourteen line bursts which peek into the forbidden organization, views so short, you aren’t certain that you really heard or saw them. </p>
<p>If you’ve gotten this far, you are on track to becoming comfortable with my kamikaze spit and sputter stutter doublespeak lapdance phraseology heaping words like legos, unpacking my bags of farmer’s market fantasy groceries fresh off the wagon often approximating one hundred forty syllables per meaning unit.  Look upon the form as a sonnet out of uniform, on a dressdown Friday:  a ponnet – perhaps, possibly, partially, probably…</p></div>
<p>About 15 of the <em>28 American Sonnets</em> have been published so far. Two more will be in Issue #1 of <a href="http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/magazine/">Liebamour Magazine</a>.</p>
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		<title>&#8220;In a Bed of Daisies I Will Succumb&#8221; &#8211; David W. Landrum</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2010/02/in-a-bed-of-daisies-i-will-succumb-david-w-landrum-2/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2010/02/in-a-bed-of-daisies-i-will-succumb-david-w-landrum-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 08 Feb 2010 23:03:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=144</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[They are the eye of day, dæges eage, white, their cores burnt yellow, compromised by sun; all colors, but the azure, burgundy ones pale beside the plain, the work-a-day white-petaled stock that rotates as sun moves through the sky;  like you, after disease and buffeting had brought you here out to the edge and back <a href='http://liebamour.com/2010/02/in-a-bed-of-daisies-i-will-succumb-david-w-landrum-2/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>They are the eye of day, <em>dæges eage</em>, white,<br />
their cores burnt yellow, compromised by sun;<br />
all colors, but the azure, burgundy<br />
ones pale beside the plain, the work-a-day<br />
white-petaled stock that rotates as sun<br />
moves through the sky;  like you, after disease<br />
and buffeting had brought you here<br />
out to the edge and back so you could rest<br />
recumbent in the art of fields and mix<br />
image and a text, like Hiroshige did;<br />
these flower-patterns carried on green leaves,<br />
dark streaks of stem and pollen clustered up;<br />
the phrase, <em>In a bed of daisies I will succumb,<br />
</em>woven with letters like a creeper-vine<br />
through painted stems, like plants that burrow down<br />
into the soil, break off, emerge and fill<br />
the landscape with configurings<br />
coming from every side—their petals thick<br />
with sun, with rain, and stamens butter-bright<br />
but darkening as I go closer in.</p>
<hr />
<p>David W. Landrum’s poetry has appeared in numerous journals, including <em>Right Hand Pointing, The Shit Creek Review, Small Brushes, </em>and <em>The Blind Man&#8217;s Rainbow. </em>He edits the on-line poetry journal, <em><a href="http://www.lucidrhythms.com/" target="_blank">Lucid Rhythms</a>.</em></p>
<p>David W. Landrum&#8217;s poem &#8220;When&#8221; will be in issue #1 of <a href="http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/magazine/"><em>Liebamour Magazine</em></a>.</p>
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		<title>&#8220;Memphis Minnie’s Unmarked Grave&#8221; &#8211; Joel Allegretti</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/memphis-minnies-unmarked-grave-joel-allegretti/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/memphis-minnies-unmarked-grave-joel-allegretti/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 26 Jan 2010 00:19:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=119</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Lizzie Douglas sang, she did.  She didn’t train out of here on the Chickasaw caboose.  No, a stroke robbed her nursing home pillow in 1973.  A synonym for stroke is brain attack.  “When brain cells die during a stroke, abilities controlled by that area of the brain are lost.  How a stroke patient is affected <a href='http://liebamour.com/2010/01/memphis-minnies-unmarked-grave-joel-allegretti/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Lizzie Douglas sang, she did.  She didn’t train out of here on the Chickasaw caboose.  No, a stroke robbed her nursing home pillow in 1973.  A synonym for stroke is brain attack.  “When brain cells die during a stroke, abilities controlled by that area of the brain are lost.  How a stroke patient is affected depends on where the stroke occurs in the brain and how much the brain is damaged.” <a href="#_ftn1">[1]</a> Lizzie was born in Louisiana and performed for loose change in a Memphis park before the microphone transferred her singing to 78 RPM records.  They say she played guitar like a man, a metaphor for instrumental prowess in a patriarchal society.  Her remains lie in a Baptist church cemetery in Mississippi, birthplace of Tennessee Williams.  A headstone honored Tennessee Williams’ grave right after his burial.  She got hers twenty-three years after her death (she was a Negro, you know), courtesy of Bonnie Raitt. Thank you, Bonnie.</p>
<hr size="1" />
<p><a href="#_ftnref1">[1]</a>National Stroke Association</p>
<p>Joel Allegretti is the author of two collections, the second of which, &#8220;Father Silicon,&#8221; was selected by the Kansas City Star as one of 100 Noteworthy Books of 2006, along with &#8220;The Road&#8221; by Cormac McCarthy and &#8220;Against the Day&#8221; by Thomas Pynchon.</p>
<p>His work has appeared in many US journals, including New York Quarterly, Margie and Rattapallax.  In April, Kean University in New Jersey premiered a song cycle based on his poetry.  The composer, Frank Ezra Levy, was for many years cellist with the Radio City Music Hall Orchestra and has a CD of his symphonic work in the American Classics series on Naxos.</p>
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		<title>&#8220;Clouds&#8221; &#8211; Neil Ellman</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/clouds-neil-ellman/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/clouds-neil-ellman/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 20 Jan 2010 22:03:39 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=102</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[There is truth in clouds Changing shape Wandering with the wind Our mirrors on the sky. Neil Ellman has been published in numerous online journals and has two chapbooks, both dealing with ekphrastic poetry, forthcoming. Two more of his poems will be in Issue #1 of Liebamour Magazine.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>There is truth in clouds<br />
Changing shape<br />
Wandering with the wind<br />
Our mirrors on the sky.</p>
<hr />
<p>Neil Ellman has been published in numerous online journals and has two chapbooks, both dealing with ekphrastic poetry, forthcoming. Two more of his poems will be in Issue #1 of <a href="http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/magazine/">Liebamour Magazine</a>.</p>
]]></content:encoded>
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		<title>&#8220;Let Lover Boy Have His Way&#8221; &#8211; Colin James</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/let-lover-boy-have-his-way-colin-james/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/let-lover-boy-have-his-way-colin-james/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 19 Jan 2010 04:23:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=97</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My dead relatives never show until I masturbate. Man mad souls with layers of none flesh buffering me from the ecclesiastic. I finish and fall back into their arms just like in the beginning. As a species we are giddy, reliably incredulous. This is a public restroom, an emotional venue so I have to be <a href='http://liebamour.com/2010/01/let-lover-boy-have-his-way-colin-james/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>My dead relatives<br />
never show<br />
until I masturbate.<br />
Man mad souls<br />
with layers of none flesh<br />
buffering me from<br />
the ecclesiastic.<br />
I finish and fall back<br />
into their arms<br />
just like in the beginning.<br />
As a species we are giddy,<br />
reliably incredulous.<br />
This is a public restroom,<br />
an emotional venue<br />
so I have to be brief.</p>
<hr />
<p>Colin James works in energy conservation and is a Brother of the Endemic.</p>
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		<title>!1970 &#8211; Joel Cretan</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/1970-joel-cretan-2/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/1970-joel-cretan-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 16 Jan 2010 01:16:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Art]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=78</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Based in San Francisco, Joel Cretan has been using computers to create outlandish designs since he was four and Macpaint was five. His work tends toward high color saturation and solid shapes, but the more unifying theme is the method, not the result. His main interest is the relative ease of creating fantastically detailed and <a href='http://liebamour.com/2010/01/1970-joel-cretan-2/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="http://liebamour.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/1970.png"><img style="width: 100%;" class="alignnone size-large wp-image-79" title="!1970" src="http://liebamour.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/1970.png" alt=""  /></a></p>
<p>Based in San Francisco, <a href="http://www.laserscorpion.com/">Joel Cretan</a> has been using computers to create outlandish designs since he was four and Macpaint was five. His work tends toward high color saturation and solid shapes, but the more unifying theme is the method, not the result. His main interest is the relative ease of creating fantastically detailed and colorful forms afforded by technology. Illustrator, cell phone cameras, Crayola crayons and the venerable Macpaint 1.5 remain his primary tools.</p>
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		<title>&#8220;Tuesday&#8217;s Child&#8221; &#8211; Kyle Hemmings</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/tuesdays-child-kyle-hemmings-2/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/tuesdays-child-kyle-hemmings-2/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 14 Jan 2010 18:42:20 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=64</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[is not my idea of clouds or three-leaf clovers, you love meyou love me not do you know what love is? she says this schizophrenic girl who by Thursday calls me Charley-Spare-Some-Change, with Lapis Lazuli eyes and orange-glazed cakes from the bakery on Sixth Ave. who lives above my studio now sitting cross-legged in three <a href='http://liebamour.com/2010/01/tuesdays-child-kyle-hemmings-2/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>is not my idea of clouds<br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">or three-leaf clovers,</span><br />
you love me<span style="margin-left:8px;">you love me not</span><br />
do you know what love is? she says<br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">this schizophrenic girl</span><br />
who by Thursday calls me Charley-Spare-Some-Change,<br />
with Lapis Lazuli eyes and orange-glazed cakes<br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">from the bakery on Sixth Ave.</span><br />
who lives above my studio<br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">now sitting cross-legged</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">in three cloud-scudded dimensions,</span><br />
speaking in<span style="margin-left:8px;">peacock colors</span><br />
Breaking the back of a mule, she says. Love is.</p>
<p><span style="margin-left:15px;">The neighbors warned me</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">not to talk to her on Sundays</span><br />
Sundays are for perculated boasts<br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">and she&#8217;s a purplepiedpreacher, they say</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">as if it were a schizoid&#8217;s neologism.</span><br />
Add up your thoughts<span style="margin-left:8px;">and do they turn into</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:30px;">loose change?</span><br />
My roommate is a dog walker she says<br />
with a ripple of a smile   a flick of the strawberry-haired head<br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">she walks out my door as if in a Svengalli trance</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">the flash of her saber-smooth calves</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">my thoughts drift into the air:</span><br />
we&#8217;ll fuck with our Ray-Bans on.</p>
<p>Three weeks later,<br />
no sign of her<span style="margin-left:8px;">or the dog walker</span><br />
I stare out my window at 10:p.m.<br />
only tethered dogs<span style="margin-left:8px;">and logical women in the back of white Jaguars</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">I wanted to tell her</span><span style="margin-left:8px;">about this dream</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">of us walking backward on a tightrope,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:18px;">Fellini-styled</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">and falling</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:45px;">falling</span><br />
<span style="margin-left:15px;">not even a crash helmet of daisies.</span></p>
<hr />
<p>Kyle Hemmings lives and works in New Jersey, where he skateboards, falls, and sometimes gets back up.</p>
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		<title>&#8220;Anti-Intellectual&#8221; &#8211; Donald L. Pesavento</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/anti-intellectual-donald-l-pesavento/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2010/01/anti-intellectual-donald-l-pesavento/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 11 Jan 2010 20:57:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=46</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Like a vampire, exposed to a sunlit church, I entered the library and burst into flames, near the desk librarian, fainting straight away. The sprinkler system malfunctioned, but an alert student activated the alarm as I whooshed to the fire extinguisher but couldn&#8217;t get it to work, and I panicked, running in circles past a <a href='http://liebamour.com/2010/01/anti-intellectual-donald-l-pesavento/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Like a vampire, exposed to a sunlit church,<br />
I entered the library and burst into flames,<br />
near the desk librarian, fainting straight away.<br />
The sprinkler system malfunctioned, but<br />
an alert student activated the alarm<br />
as I whooshed to the fire extinguisher<br />
but couldn&#8217;t get it to work, and<br />
I panicked, running in circles past<br />
a volume of Dante&#8217;s Inferno and<br />
archives of the Dewey Decimal System,<br />
pausing by a copy of The Great Flood,<br />
before bee-lining to the Geography Section<br />
and diving into The World Oceans.</p>
<hr />
<p><strong>Donald L. Pesavento </strong>was raised in Chicago, instilled with mysticism, nurturing an innate sense of the wondrous. The poetry reveals a predilection for the surreal, embellished with lush lyricism, emboldened by sensual symbolism. Literary influences have been a cosmopolitan mix of myriad voices, including Quasimodo, Aleixandre, Alighieri, Vallejo, Lorca, Neruda, Paz, Breton, Supervielle, Eluard, Seferis, Yeats, Eliot, Shelly, Coleridge, and Rilke. Recent poems reside in <em>Underground Voices, Whispers from The Unseen, Danse Macabre</em>, <em>Troubadour 21, The Literary Bohemian, </em>and<em> Think Journal.</em></p>
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		<title>&#8220;Stone Love&#8221; – P.A.Levy</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2009/12/stone-love%e2%80%93-p-a-levy/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2009/12/stone-love%e2%80%93-p-a-levy/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 22 Dec 2009 23:30:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=28</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[She believes in stones, their tales of megalithic glory told by the silence of the ancients. At Avebury, spiritual omphalos, she rushed to greet them, hugged them like long lost friends. Warmed by the sun they breathed, they were alive, they hugged her back; Princess of Albion. Seated in the Devil’s Chair I watched her, <a href='http://liebamour.com/2009/12/stone-love%e2%80%93-p-a-levy/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>She believes in stones,<br />
their tales of megalithic glory<br />
told by the silence of the ancients.<br />
At Avebury, spiritual omphalos,<br />
she rushed to greet them,<br />
hugged them like long lost friends.<br />
Warmed by the sun<br />
they breathed, they were alive,<br />
they hugged her back;<br />
Princess of Albion.</p>
<p>Seated in the Devil’s Chair<br />
I watched her, pink hair,<br />
zips and leathers a warrior queen.<br />
Many silver bangles sung<br />
as she danced, wove a spell<br />
through the avenue of stones,<br />
standing waiting for her<br />
for thousands of years.<br />
At last! she has come home;<br />
Princess of Albion.</p>
<p>From the temple’s sanctuary<br />
hand in hand along the ceremonial<br />
avenue across Malborough Downs<br />
to Silbury Hill, and why they were called<br />
the Downs when they lifted her heart so<br />
she couldn’t understand.<br />
Having stepped on Neolithic footprints,<br />
we kissed in a Druid circle of flowers,<br />
this was when her laughter became sunshine<br />
daughter of Mother Goddess;<br />
Princess of Albion.</p>
<hr />
<p>Born East London but now residing amongst the hedge mumblers of rural Suffolk, P.A.Levy has been published in many magazines, both on line and in print, from ‘A cappella Zoo’ to ‘Zygote In My Coffee’ and many stations in-between.  He is also a founding member of the Clueless Collective and can be found loitering on page corners and wearing hoodies at <a href="http://www.cluelesscollective.co.uk/">www.cluelesscollective.co.uk</a>.</p>
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		<title>&#8220;Painter’s Exhalations 778&#8243; – Felino A. Soriano</title>
		<link>http://liebamour.com/2009/12/painters-exhalations-778-felino-a-soriano/</link>
		<comments>http://liebamour.com/2009/12/painters-exhalations-778-felino-a-soriano/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 22 Dec 2009 23:17:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Liebamour</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/?p=19</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[—after Bruce Gray’s Snap #2 A notebook’s wideness, lined wideness, interpretational whitened wideness holder of functioning hands poetic disparity:the small of things objects coinciding with blind’s Braille necessity, holds against an eye’s taught openness: reveal ! upon opening a light’s ribcage illuminating the beating function of life’s fortunate conceptions. Felino A. Soriano (b. 1974, California), <a href='http://liebamour.com/2009/12/painters-exhalations-778-felino-a-soriano/'>[...]</a>]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><em>—after Bruce Gray’s Snap #2 </em></p>
<p>A notebook’s wideness, lined wideness,<br />
interpretational whitened wideness<br />
holder of functioning hands</p>
<p>poetic disparity:<span style="margin-left:40px;">the small of things</span><br />
objects coinciding with blind’s Braille<br />
necessity, holds</p>
<p>against an eye’s taught openness:<br />
reveal !</p>
<p>upon opening a light’s ribcage<br />
illuminating the beating function<br />
of life’s</p>
<p>fortunate conceptions.</p>
<hr />
<p><strong>Felino A. Soriano</strong> (b. 1974, California), is a case manager and advocate for developmentally and physically disabled adults.  He has authored 17 collections of poetry, including “Altered Aesthetics” (ungovernable press, 2009), and “Construed Implications” (erbacce-press, 2009). His poems have appeared at Calliope Nerve, Full of Crow, BlazeVOX, Metazen, Heavy Bear, and elsewhere.  He edits &amp; publishes <a href="http://www.counterexamplepoetics.com/">Counterexample Poetics</a>, an online journal of experimental artistry, and <a href="http://www.differentiapress.com/">Differentia Press</a>, dedicated to publishing e-chapbooks of experimental poetry.  He is also a contributing editor for <a href="http://www.sugarmule.com/">Sugar Mule</a>, and consulting editor for <a href="http://www.postjournalofthoughtandfeeling.com/">Post: A Journal of Thought and Feeling</a>. Philosophical studies collocated with his love of classic and avant-garde jazz explains motivation for poetic occurrences.  His <a href="http://www.felinoasoriano.info/">website</a> explains further.</p>
<p>More of Felino&#8217;s work will be featured in Issue #1 of <a href="http://diamondpointpress.com/liebamour/magazine/">Liebamour Magazine</a>.</p>
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