Follow the Tracks #51 : Weekly Song Picks : Winter Blues Edition




On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Die Slow” – Venus and the Moon



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Another Kind of Red” – Tula



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Affection” – Cigarettes After Sex



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
When in Love” – Ripsy May



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Holy” – Chris Pureka



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
In a Bar” – Tango with Lions



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Doom Saloon/Our Lady of Electric Light” – Clutch


Follow this playlist on:

   or   


Founding Editor


Amanda Oaks is the founding editor of Words Dance Publishing, an independent press, literary blog + biweekly online poetry journal. Her works have appeared in numerous online & print publications, including decomP, Stirring, Glamour & Elle. She is the author of four poetry collections: Hurricane Mouth (NightBallet Press, 2014), her co-authored split book, I Eat Crow (Words Dance, 2014) & her series of free digital music-inspired chapbooks.


Eidetic & Blind by Marie Ungar


Art by VH McKenzie | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Tumblr | Instagram


Eidetic & Blind

i.
You were So Cool with your red converse & knee socks
& that nail file you kept tucked into your
boot like a weapon. When we found straight sticks
we made them wands, at recess we were
witches, I could’ve kept playing
that game forever.

ii.
You told me sometimes I need to stop
following & let others come
to me, like self-confidence could be bought
with the four-fifty we made
selling lemonade on the sidewalk
outside your house.

iii.
We are digging through your junkyard attic
again, it is a summer that never happened.
We are digging through the Maybes that hang
in the air like heavy flies, like Maybe
if I look at my feet less the world
will be smaller, Maybe growing into
another person isn’t growing
up, Maybe I am the cicadas chirping your name
because I think if I understand you
I can understand the world.
How glad I am the world cannot fit
between the lines of this poem.

iv.
I remember finding cicada shells strewn
across your backyard and stink bugs on your bedroom
floor. I remember your quiet smile and thinking eyes, the foreign
taste of whole milk and strawberries with cream, but I don’t remember
your mother ever getting out of bed. I don’t think
I ever asked why.




Marie Ungar

Marie Ungar is a writer from Charlottesville, Virginia and Co-Founder of Sooth Swarm Journal. Her work has been published in Eunoia Review and Sincerely Magazine, among other journals.



A Small List of Things I Want to Forget About by Lindsey Hobart


Colourful Apple II by Tracy-Ann Marrison | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

A Small List of Things I Want to Forget About

It was the summer of
kissing shoulder blades
under oak trees and running water
and keeping our mouths so messy
we couldn’t fit the word love
between our teeth,
only behind eyelids that shook
in broken sleep
and we’ll call that the distance
between us.
An arm’s reach,
or the hesitation between
two people across the bar
at a party,
or a telephone,
or the gear shift,
or a white sheet in the empty room
where I buried my face in your neck
that August and said, “Let’s stay here
a while, watch September turn to Fall.”
It was childhood bedroom innocence,
the barn where you used to smoke,
your family photo albums,
and then bruising my body against yours
on your mother’s couch
and we’ll call this longing:
your hands in my hair,
mine around your neck,
the way hips move in a dark
room, always lit by a broken tv
and your body all smoke and scar
and breathing heavy,
my hand pinned to the bedsheets
soaked in sweat and spilled wine.
I dug my name into your backbone
but didn’t get to call you mine.




Lindsey Hobart

Lindsey Hobart is an 18 year-old writer, dreamer, and sometimes-guitarist. Her work has appeared in Canvas Lit, Glass Kite Anthology, The Rising Phoenix Review, Germ Magazine, and others. When she isn’t writing or pretending she has musical talent, you can find her in a seedy hipster cafe reading Bukowski and yelling about capitalism.



On Growing Up Queer in Northern Appalachia by Jay Douglas


Magenta Sky by Tracy-Ann Marrison | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

On Growing Up Queer in Northern Appalachia

We are the mountains. We are Mother Nature’s tits: asymmetrical, oblong, pendulous. Bulbous and beautiful with highways for cleavage. We are the coal mines: the secret shafts into the under-earth where gas leaks and canaries die. We are the railroad tracks where our parents flattened pennies: forgotten, abandoned, overgrown, echoing the rumble of the past. With veins like streams winding through the underbrush past the crumbling foundations our ancestors left us, we dig up the remnants of the farmhouse of forgotten dead stone-by-stone, moss under our broken fingernails. We are the crab grass underfoot. We are potholed, gravel driveways and fish that swim upstream, scales flashing like glass, slipping through our mothers’ desperate, clawing hands. We are catching snapping turtles in our fishing lines and scraped knees on the asphalt with gravel ground in. We’re the tear in old jeans, the leak in worn boots. We are bumblebees and garden spiders. We hold the dew in our fingers. We carry the sun.



Jay Douglas

Jay Douglas is a senior undergraduate student at Indiana University of Pennsylvania studying English and World Religions. When not writing, Jay can usually be found honing Jay’s mad yo-yo skills or immersed in a book on queer theory.



Follow the Tracks #50 : Weekly Song Picks




On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Aries” – Flatbush Zombies (ft. Deadcuts)



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Maniac” – Jhene Aiko



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Viper Strike” – Highly Suspect



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
i hate u, i love u” – gnash (ft. olivia o’brien)



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
Wrote My Way Out” – Nas, Dave East, Lin-Manuel Miranda & Aloe Blacc (from The Hamilton Mixtape)



On your mobile device? Click below to open the YouTube app:
I Got You” – Bebe Rexha


Follow this playlist on:

   or   


Founding Editor


Amanda Oaks is the founding editor of Words Dance Publishing, an independent press, literary blog + biweekly online poetry journal. Her works have appeared in numerous online & print publications, including decomP, Stirring, Glamour & Elle. She is the author of four poetry collections: Hurricane Mouth (NightBallet Press, 2014), her co-authored split book, I Eat Crow (Words Dance, 2014) & her series of free digital music-inspired chapbooks.


Autumn, or the Fall of an Empire by Sophie Chouinard


Autumnal Fire by Tracy-Ann Marrison | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

Autumn, or the Fall of an Empire

The truth is
there is salt in the wound.

The little hand in mine
sweetens the deal, but sweet
or savoury, this is only temporary –
leaves are falling, and autumn is here

to stay. Silence is the wound,
my grandmother told me,

or the other way around, some would
argue. The little hand’s grip is steady
and warm – a mug of fragrant coffee
on a damp lonely morning. There is comfort

in the holding on
just tight enough, but I know
autumn will soon claim him too;
like when you fell from my grace,

and long before the last leaf
gives up on its trembling twig.



Sophie Chouinard

Born and raised in Montreal, Sophie now hails from Toronto, Canada. She is a poetry reader and reviewer at cahoodaloodaling, but makes her big bucks by making people care about people. By night she’s either Batman or runs, either on a trail or after her two sons. Even though her French-Canadian heart loves the ruggedness and beauty of her country, she would rather perpetually eat and drink her way through the world, roadtrippin’ one country at a time. Sophie’s work has been published in Vox Poetica, Up The Staircase Quarterly, and Melancholy Hyperbole.



Confluence by Rachel Egly


Strata 17 by Tracy-Ann Marrison | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram


Confluence

I. Estuary

A river runs rampant through
your veins, your mind, sometimes

I can see it rushing behind
your eyes. You’re adding
water to the sea
of me; we are brackish

where we are joined, all
salt and transition.


II. Diversion

I heard the sound          answered          came
across this watery divide

just to put some
distance between us. I’m not sure
if you liked being called a
river; they are
impetuous, shallow things that are
hard to get over.
I should know

better. It is calmer on this
bank, but I wish you
were here.




Rachel Egly

Rachel was born and raised outside of Chicago, but currently resides 120 miles south where she is pursuing a Master’s degree in freshwater ecology from the University of Illinois. She is in love with pretty rivers, insomnia, and good pizza. You can learn more about her at spf-6.tumblr.com



From Coretta Scott King to Martin Luther King Jr. by Fortesa Latifi


painting by Tracy-Ann Marrison | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

From Coretta Scott King to Martin Luther King Jr

I loved you knowing the blood would come.
I loved you knowing people in the streets
would be chanting your name. I dreamt
of you before I loved you and woke
holding my hand out for yours.
Nothing has changed, sweetheart.
I always knew there was a war
out there and the best way
to face it has always been
together.



Fortesa Latifi

Fortesa Latifi is a 23-year old poet who calls the desert home. She is a Master’s of Journalism & Mass Communication student at the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism at Arizona State University. This is her third collection of poetry. Her work has been published through To Write Love On Her Arms, Kosovo 2.0, and Vagabond City Lit.



from her book, No Matter the Time, available for purchase here.


Defiled by Julie Pavlick


The Divide by Tracy-Ann Marrison | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram


Defiled

Imagine if her power were visible:

if I set my shoulders back,

standing tall,

lifting my face to her,

declaring my love for her.

She’d shine back,

using me as a platform,

to reclaim earth as her own,

burning those who didn’t follow her.

Imagine if she could speak:

if she didn’t have to howl through hurricanes,

but only used the trees to rustle my hair,

reminding me that she is behind me always.

Imagine if she could heal:

if she wasn’t forced to be in a state of destruction,

if she could stop the unwanted bleeding.

Imagine if she could:

reclaim her water,

her health,

her beauty.

What if we could just allow her to?




Julie Pavlick

Julie Pavlick is a Ph.D. student at IUP, where she focuses on African-American literature and Critical Animal Studies. First and foremost, she is a product of her environment: Raised in rural Pennsylvania, she was lovingly grown by her father, a retired coal miner, and her mother, who can be labeled as a superhero and nurse. Julie is an English adjunct instructor at the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown.



House of Dreams by Katie Clark


Painting by Tracy-Ann Marrison | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram



House of Dreams




Katie Clark

Katie Clark is a queer poet on the verge of the twenties who belongs to a lot of places: Jacksonville, parts of Georgia, the pioneer valley. Currently a student at Mount Holyoke College in South Hadley, MA. Katie is figuring it out. Katie’s poems have been in Alien Mouth, Vagabond City, and Spy Kids Review, amongst other kind pages. @octupiwallst