why we like rolling thunder quarterly/ 6 poems by pd lyons


Pdlyons's Explorations

Hell yes~ These are awesome! I’d love to use all of them for the fall issue. I’ll keep you posted as the release approaches in late October.
Thanks,
Tommy

Sent from Yahoo! Mail on Android

http://www.lulu.com/shop/rolling-thunder-press/rolling-thunder-quarterly-fall-2013/paperback/product-21229352.html

Rolling Thunder Quarterly: Fall 2013

Paperback, 108 Pages
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Price: €19.06
Ships in 3–5 business days
Edited by Tommy Anthony. featuring Kevin Catalano, Jeff Kappell, Rachael Delamar, Anne Carrath Donoghue, Raven Nicole Hughes, Chiisai, Glenn Killman, Alex, Alyssa, Sarah Brooks, Sally Deskins, Kim Farleigh, Crazy Lombardo the Master of Pork, Jim Lopez, PD Lyons, Bethany W. Pope, Fernando Meisenhalter, Matt Morris, Simon Rogghe, Kris Ryan, Emily, Lyn Friberg, Tara, Tali, Stacie Thompson, Trinity, Penelope Tyson, Laura Madeline Wiseman, Leena Worthy, and David S. Pointer
Women Buying Guns In America
Smash the fuckin’ TV walk barefoot in the snow
Pierce…

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she thought they would be safe, from Bella and Shirley by pd lyons


ruff draft

Pdlyons's Explorations

CSC_2219

– she thought they would be safe.

told them that they were supporters, that her older son

was in their army.

sure they said and shoved her, sure then we’ll be gentle.

her youngest son they shot for coming to her aid.

they tied her to the bed post while they did things to her daughter.

then they shot the daughter to death as well.

when we found her she had torn her wrists bloody trying to get free.

She says:

These are not my hands

They do not belong to me.

These are the hands that did not save my children.

She begs us to chop them off

We have to always have someone with her otherwise she tears off the bandages with her teeth.

The woman would speak only in whispers and leaned into Tilkon

– Oh Tilkon said, ah she wants to give you something

meaning Shirley

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new on calliope nerve


Pdlyons's Explorations

Monday, November 8, 2010

The Woman

The Woman

I could not speak.
Maybe loved more gently
I could have.
Maybe if there was a moon
I could have.

But only sun –
a crazy glue
unswallowed
lips sealed
slays weds
impregnates
itself.

This is what I cannot say,
this is what they refuse to hear:
After death is pre- natal.
Through me, everything is world.
Without me?
Conception is by eating,
birth by excretion.

PD Lyons newest book Caribu&Sister Stones published by Lapwing Press Belfast.

Labels: PD Lyons

http://calliopenerve.blogspot.com/

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Next Morning, poem by pd lyons


 

 

 dry as steel

echos walking home 

 

believing in what you knew was not

and calling it love

World Teachers’ Day – Big Giant Thank You!


and thank you once again!

Pdlyons's Explorations

Over all my years of   schooling where I learned to read, to write,  to be – I have had many many wonderful teachers. I have also had the ones who didn’t make much impression and a few who I would be happy to call them out should I meet them today and at least ask them why they bothered to enter the profession.

But today is a day for those who were the stars in my becoming who I am  – a pretty descent bloke in my own expert opinion. Any way every day I write and every word I write i must thank my teachers for. Humbly and luckily there are two of my English teachers, one from high school and one from my university days that actually take the time to follow this blog. So to them and to all those others, especially from my younger days when…

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Do Do Run Run by pd lyons as published in A New Ulster #30


Pdlyons's Explorations

(photographer unknown) (photographer unknown)

do do run run

after the show she’d call him
wait with the security guys out back
in the open door way if it was storming
watching waiting smoking.
she’d heard they added menthol to ‘em so you wouldn’t feel what they were doin’ to your throat,
she wasn’t sure about that – isn’t there just too much miss-trust in the world?

anyway it never took him long,
no matter what the time was
even if the show ran late
even if there was snow
he was never long.

run up them iron stairs
and every time
kiss her before saying hello, how was the show?
and walk her arm ‘n arm to the car,
open and close her door …

she was back up singer in a steady small town gig.
the one who wore a black beret,
sang better ‘n most of the stars she broke…

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paris hotel photo by pd lyons


The day is nice, excerpt from Sal Manders by pd lyons (adult themes)


in 1974 I started work on a biographical/fiction. ( originally titled salamanders) incorporating bits of journal, drugs sex and drama from the point of view of a 18 – 20 something male living in an old factory town New England as he discovers drinks weed cocaine love sex marriage divorce fatherhood etc. it began by the river it hasn’t ended yet. here’s another excerpt – for what its worth. still ruff n ready I suppose

The day is nice,

today is a light cool mist over everything after weeks of ninety degrees. The coffee is good and strong. I’m sprawled out on the kitchen table with pen and paraphernalia. When I was first married my wife always made sure where ever we lived there was a room for my desk. It was great; a room, a desk, a typewriter and all my books. But as time went on and she and I got farther apart the desk seemed to get lost along the way as we moved and the place got smaller and smaller my room became less and less of a priority no longer, like myself, a necessity. However I did find a substitute for my desk, a most convenient and logical solution – a place to sprawl out and be close to the coffee pot a place generally as far as possible from sleeping children and angry women and even today when I have no typewriter, no home, no wife, I still have a little quiet and solitude here at this long inspiration of kitchen table.

It’s nice and cool but I would like some sunlight, sunshine like yesterday, the girl dancing and laughing and I rubbed her sore muscles putting her to sleep in the ragged summer grass there by the stream you can still drink from. Maureen, the way your hair shines golden, the way you wore that yellow tied at the waist shirt – I want to buy you a gold medallion of the sun, pretty girl I want to lay you out in ninety degrees of heat and fuck you till we melt. Maureen in the sun quiet, cynical, tired, your legs are strong I thought you were nervous but you fell asleep as I worked the tight muscles of your legs yielding up the cheeks of you ass, a long sleek back up around sore shoulders the white ivory neck kissed between the space of blonde laying in the grass my hands unable to stop…

Then there is Maureen in evening laughter,

Restless martial arts forms against the stars

Stoned as shit on some hashish she bought

To see her now, happy, care free, no self put downs,

Golden lady I like to be here…

Maureen your skin is magic,

The night has been beautiful for us

The moonless stars are animals I want to travel among

While your desire is to keep both feet on firm earth

Dancing in the dark I hate to leave you –

All night my fingers shake in their sleep as if I had ten penises each dreaming of your cunt all at once.

 

salamanders green/ Part One /page 1


Sal Manders back in the day

Pdlyons's Explorations

in 1974 I started work on a biographical/fiction. incorporating bits of journal, drugs sex and drama from the point of view of a 18 – 20 something male living in an old factory town New England as he discovers drinks weed cocaine love sex marriage divorce fatherhood etc. it began by the river it hasn’t ended yet but here’s the first part – for what its worth, still ruff n ready I suppose

photo by pdlyons photo by pdlyons

Part One: Do you really want to go here?

River

Afternoon late spring clean water rivering golden sunlight drifts slowly graces full breezy trees, sub down silver gold sparks white water green water brass between rock and crumbling pylons water. Trout water clean fast life death water sparkle moments cascade flash blood scent spotted sating skin shudder pulse lightning trout flesh steel clean pain death dream river of sun of steel of rock pumping…

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Behind, by pd lyons


ah paris! pd lyons photography and poem

Pdlyons's Explorations

DSC_0981 Notre Dame

Behind

whenever she goes
she always leaves

through differing doorways
the same absence

DSC_0999 Notre Dame

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