Loop: Issue 1

LOOP

Issue 1

Poems by: Cathy Bryant, Barend Buitekamer, Gary Cummiskey, William Huyzers, Eva Jackson, Simon Jackson, Grace Kim, Anton Krueger, Joan McNerney, Nick Monks, Nashen Moodley, Kobus Moolman, Dashen Naicker, Seth Trent, and V.W. Williams

LOOP ISSUE 1: POETRY MAY 2012

Published by Tearoom Books 2012 Stockholm, Sweden Loop: Issue 1 Pravasan Pillay and Victoria Williams eds.

Cover and graphic design: Jenny Kellerman Pillay Š Poems remain the copyright of the poet.

CONTENTS New Trees by Seth Trent........................................................5 I built an avocado pear by Eva Jackson................................6 Little woman by Eva Jackson................................................7 Sex Magic by William Huyzers...........................................8 Prayer list by Dashen Naicker.............................................9 The Key by Kobus Moolman............................................10 Death by Kobus Moolman................................................11 In the morning by Nashen Moodley.................................12 France #1 by Nashen Moodley..........................................13 Assault by Grace Kim........................................................14 As if by Magic by Cathy Bryant.........................................15 Die kraan in Koos se kombuis by Barend Buitekamer.......16 Moths by V.W. Williams....................................................17 Ocean by Simon Jackson....................................................18 It starts from a speck by Simon Jackson...........................19 the canadian’s nephew by Anton Krueger........................20 Tonight by Joan McNerney................................................21 Fullwood Preston 2am by Nick Monks............................22 Chloe by Nick Monks.........................................................23 Fest by Gary Cummiskey...................................................24 Letter from Home by Gary Cummiskey............................25 Contributors......................................................................26

Editorial The two founding principles of this zine are repetition and repetition.

Pravasan Pillay and Victoria Williams 12 May 2012

New Trees Seth Trent Driving home at night a little blitz I see new trees planted next to old ones and think: They’ll never make it.

Who am I to think that?

I have no right.

I like being a little blitz I say what I’m feeling.

But feel every word I say is stupid.

I want to stop talking to have a deeper quieter voice.

The world won’t let me and I am too much of a coward to ask for more.

I am like these new trees planted next to old ones.

5

I built an avocado pear Eva Jackson I built an avocado pear But made sure it was unaware.

We would not want a green rotunda Going soft and fearing thunder.

6

Little woman Eva Jackson Little woman in Singapore airport, singing Get back to where you once belonged.

7

Sex Magic William Huyzers I got my candles And I got my nails Try some magic When all else fails I’m gonna put a spell on you Saw you on the astral plane For three months I was insane But you know what they say No pain no gain I’m gonna put a spell on you I’m gonna put a spell on you Do you feel an irresistible affection?

Are you thinking about my erection?

My snake coils around your open gate With sleight of hand I cast your fate I’m gonna put a spell on you I’m gonna put a spell on you I’m gonna put a spell on you

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Prayer list Dashen Naicker One pint milk, three kinds fruit, camphor, two box matches, one packet samagri.

Lamp oil, brasso, camphor.

I said camphor already? Okay nev’mind.

One packet kumgum, with the red label.

Betel-nut.

Betel leaves.

Pick from Aunty Sushila’s garden, get curry leaves and one bahnahnah leaf when you there.

Small container ghee, two coak’nuts.

Five boxes agarbatti, must be the five for ten rand ones.

One roll red string and one packet chips and one popsicle to have when you coming home.

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The Key Kobus Moolman He did not have a plastic card to open his hotel room door.

He did not have a plastic stick that he stuck into a small black hole to open his hotel room door.

He did not have a shining key to open his hotel room door.

He simply banged on the door with his fist and turned the handle and immediately the Russian girl on the bed in his hotel room opened up for him.

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Death Kobus Moolman I am not attracted to tall buildings, he said I am not attracted to sharp objects I am attracted to big trucks’ wheels I am attracted to trains I am not attracted to knotted ropes I am not attracted to cold steel barrels I am attracted to deep water I am attracted to sleep I am not attracted to heaven I am not attracted to the idea of eternity I am attracted to darkness I am attracted to not knowing I am not attracted to the final answer I am not attracted to having it all explained I am attracted to words that make no sense, he said I am attracted to meanings that have no words.

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In the morning Nashen Moodley In the morning Early I am yours I cannot speak I cannot wake up I cannot resist sex I cannot deny love In the nighttime I argue In the nighttime sometimes I resemble myself.

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France #1 Nashen Moodley I wish I had a French girlfriend She would be tall and thin and so pretty And the opposite of inscrutable She would have an understandable ambivalence towards ducks and their livers She would stick her thin, long tongue down my throat each morning And then make us coffee She would love sausages.

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Assault Grace Kim as she passed, her perfume almost pushed me off the two person sidewalk, an almost-tangible doppelg채nger hustling trolleys of citrus orchards and armlength Madagascan vanilla pods

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As if by Magic Cathy Bryant Perseus, young hero, cease to tremble!

Take this cloak of invisibility.

It works by changing you to resemble A woman whose age is over fifty.

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Die kraan in Koos se kombuis Barend Buitekamer Plienk-ploink!

Plienk-ploink!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK!

PLIENK-PLOINK! 16

Moths V.W. Williams I was scared of moths until you told me how, One flew into your nightgown, And fluttered its wings against your bare breasts hanging down; That was when I discovered that breasts are poetical.

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Ocean Simon Jackson We finish and you sigh and gaze up into my eyes with a slightly shocked expression as though surprised to find me there. We stare trying to reacquaint ourselves with the face so different to the one that we’d been picturing and smile because it saves us from speaking, then hug because it saves us from looking before rolling apart, separate and silent, as neighbouring continents, golden in prophecy, that once conquered lose their exotic appeal, the wet patch an ocean between us.

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It starts from a speck (after Sylvia Plath) Simon Jackson It starts from a speck a tiny dark spot like a drop of blood or a fly crawling down the wall the head of a zip travelling along a seam opening invisible teeth that will spread, spread wide to open a new world to engulf me in its dark velvet throat and leave nothing nothing the same again.

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the canadian’s nephew Anton Krueger at francesca’s session on “liveness” the canadian scenographer mentions that when his nephew started hearing when they installed his prosthetic, when he became socialized into sound, he also became somehow less confident. the canadian scenographer said the boy was freer before, more alive ... and that when he wandered into sound he was “like a kite being reeled in.”

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Tonight Joan McNerney Chimes tap against our windowpane. This evening becomes starry sapphire as sea gulls rise in flight over rooftops.

Winds wrapping around trees tossing leaves.

The court yard is full of aromas from dinnertime.

Shadows growing longer each minute. Lights go on and I wait for you.

21

Fullwood Preston 2am Nick Monks 2am, a park we held hands in. a road we walked down The ruins of palaces and baroque symphonies But for now there is just the broken glass on the tarmac A canal that winds somewhere closed half a century ago The night life joy riders, the jiving strangers Roads with clay and papier-mâchÊ cars, granite institutions, gone Roads go to Blackpool, Blackburn, Chorley, Clitheroe or here Others lives are not ours. Rotting laws and rules Loves falling endlessly into stagnant ponds Standing in the middle of death at last Lorraine and I, others dreams behind closed curtains We have outlived a cities nought. The brittle hush Of finally alone, how many have achieved that

22

Chloe Nick Monks 1 “They’re trying to kill me,” she says to the mirror in the acute ward bathroom It was her perfume that entranced and held me As we did the Daily Mail crossword in the common room Her other 10 boyfriends perturbed me a little. But then We all talk in Latin and froth at the mouth 2 She climbed over the 5 foot high yard wall and in through the Broken kitchen door window. Now she had 7 boyfriends I called it off there and then. I couldn’t turn change arrange into Bourgeois monogamous bliss I still see her sometimes. Under a street lamp at 2am, pacing Around. I failed. Now she has got 3 kids and 6 boyfriends.

Inbetween marriage, infidelity, money, somewhere there is truth.

I can’t find it either

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Fest Gary Cummiskey It’s a shit fest they’re organising – shitting in the shower, the cupboards and on the kitchen floor, frightening the cat and infuriating the landlord, sending his blood pressure rising to alarming levels.

When he finally drops dead of a heart attack, they smother his corpse in baked beans and create a symphony out of condoms and kinky folk songs.

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Letter from Home Gary Cummiskey Dear son This morning we woke up to find a crocodile sleeping on one of the children. Luckily we were able to coax it back to the river with a chicken mayonnaise sandwich. It was odd to find a crocodile here in rural England but the unusual does happen.

The wedding is just four weeks away. Everyone is busy with arrangements and outfits. Kate is obviously very excited. I just hope the weather picks up as it is still quite cold. I also hope that the dead don’t make an appearance – your Aunt Lily could get awfully out of hand at these gatherings.

I had a long weekend in Lisbon with five old friends from my time at the abattoir. Some live in Scotland now, some England and one in Australia. So it was wonderful to relive our youth for a few days and even better to have some lovely weather too. Hot and sunny and we had an apartment right on the beach. We watched a lifeguard strangle a mugger at one point. The rest of the crew are still there, hoping for more action.

Hope the genocide is going well and that it doesn’t entail too much work. Wish I was there to help.

Your loving mom

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Contributors cathy bryant’s poems and stories have been published all over the world and she’s won numerous awards. She co-edits the annual anthology Best of Manchester Poets, and her collection Contains Strong Language and Scenes of a Sexual Nature was published by Puppywolf in 2010. barend buitekamer is perpetueel ingedagte. Waanwys. Obsessief. Kettingroker en tee verslaafde met ñ ondeurdringbare kors. Hy dra altyd twee onderbroeke. Morbied. Anargies. Ontwykend. Enigmaties. Effe kranksinnig. Bang vir homself en doodbang vir die Tellytubbies. Hy het nog die hart van ñ kind. Dit is in ñ bottel in sy yskas. gary cummiskey lives in Johannesburg and is the author of several chapbooks of poetry, including Romancing the Dead (Tearoom Books, 2009) and Sky Dreaming (Graffiti Kolkata, 2011). He is the publisher of Dye Hard Press. He is working on a collection of short fiction. Visit www.dyehard-press.blogspot.com william huyzers was born on August 4th 1972 in South Africa and grew up in a small town called Carletonville. He received a B.A. degree from the University of Pretoria and has taught English in countries like South Korea and China.

He believes that poetry is a kind of sympathetic magic. eva jackson likes documenting things. She works in the NGO sector in Durban and is waiting for the ominous rumblings to get raining. She is a student of a special, vague history. simon jackson has been a journalist, teacher, musician and theatre director.

He has won several awards including British Gas Young Playwright of the Year, Grace Dieux, Segora, Ware Open, Slipstream and Writers Bureau Poetry Prizes.

His short films have been played by the BBC and at festivals around the world. grace kim was born in South Korea, and bred in South Africa. She has written essays, poetry and reviews for local and international publications. She is currently based at Oxford, England. anton krueger spends his time streamlining his bio for literary submissions.

He’s currently pitching a radio drama about old folks, an erotic novella, and an illustrated children’s story; so you’ll appreciate his paranoia about keeping them distinct.

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joan mcnerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazies such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, 63 channels, Spectrum, and three Bright Spring Press anthologies. She has been nominated twice for Best of the Net in 2011. Four of her books have been published by fine small literary presses. nick monks was born in Lancashire NW England. He studied philosophy at Hull University and has spent about six years working and travelling around the globe. He is published widely in small press magazines in the UK. He currently lives in Preston. nashen moodley flies around the world to watch films, and sometimes writes poetry on airplanes. kobus moolman teaches creative writing in the Department of English at the University of KwaZulu-Natal in Durban. He has published six collections of poetry, two collections of plays and edited an anthology of poetry, prose and art by South African writers living with disabilities. dashen naicker was born in Durban in 1986. He has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of KwaZulu-Natal. He has performed at numerous events and festivals countrywide, including the National Arts Festival and Poetry Africa. seth trent hails from a small town in Eastern Kentucky, but currently lives in Dallas, Texas as a first-year sculpture graduate at the University of Dallas.

His style of writing (or blatant disregard of) is sharp and unfiltered, a constant stream of thought. Through haphazard formatting and unpredictable subjectmatter, he is attempting to quantify both minute and over-arching experiences of everyday life, but doing so in a way that reflects the very nature in which life occurs; randomly, strangely, humorously, and sometimes beautifully. victoria williams was born in 1986 and is currently a library assistant in Manchester. Every day she adds another book to a reading list which is already long enough to outlast her. She still fears moths, but less so now, after reading that they are perhaps the souls of the dead who have lost their way home.

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Also by Tearoom Books Glumlazi by Pravasan Pillay Knock Knock Jokes Pertaining to Common Human Ailments by Pravasan Pillay Romancing the Dead by Gary Cummiskey Reader Digest: Poetry and Recipes eds. Pravasan Pillay and Victoria Williams www.tearoombooks.blogspot.com