Tag Archives: poetry

Cayucos, an idyll

pith.cayucos4Apricots are suede loafers, and
black plums are cordovan weejuns,

both of which are indications that
Summer, however foggy it may be

in this tiny beach town, is upon us.
The tourists, in their brightly colored

shorts and aggressive t-shirts
advertising everything they own

and everywhere they’ve been,
descend to the kelp-strewn beach

and set up their tents, their umbrellas,
and their coolers filled with light beer

and candy flavored malt liquor. The
locals grumblingly take the tourists’

money. It is a grudging annual
symbiosis, but the apricots are

delicious, and my suede loafers are
safe from the flip flop wearing hoards.

—Todd Young

Stasis

We are monsters now, fangs dripping
with the blood of our victims, the rent

flesh of our children & parents in gluey
attachment to our sinewed talons.

We breathe fire & excrete carrion.
We cannibalize our own refuse,

sodomize uncomfortable thought.
Now is the time for horror, while

ideas such as kindness & comfort,
hope & creation are not even

disdained, merely left aside,
moldering beside the empty road.

—Todd Young

The King

PITH.Elvis_Presley_promoting_Jailhouse_RockHe wasn’t supposed to move
but couldn’t hold still
and I felt like that,
so when he sang I listened.

“Sit still,” my parents said;
“Take your seat,” the school insisted,
until I felt like a tree in a storm
struggling to free itself.

But the King understood,
though when he was drafted
and the Army cut his hair
Pat Boone fell out.

The world’s changed now; it had to.
“Nothing stands still for long,”
I was told but wouldn’t listen.
“Sit still,” my parents said.

—Nicholas Campbell

How beautiful it is

She abused me
for good and bad

and I hurt
her more than she

hurt me.

It’s such an intimate
thing to be taken

that way
to let someone else

have control

until it hurts
so much

you cry out
stop! or harder

please!

until you lose
your mind

swimming in the pain
thinking how beautiful it is.

 —Stacey Warde

From the publisher

the road home

THE ROAD HOME Rogues go their own way, choosing roads that aren’t always easy or meet general approval but contain all the joy and terror one might wish to have in one lifetime. Photo by Stacey Warde

One month has passed since we began publishing online, a new venture for two guys who started their writing careers on manual typewriters.

We’re learning as we go, just as we did when we began publishing in print nearly 10 years ago, figuring out what works and what doesn’t.

We love stories and that’s always been our focus. We started out wanting to publish news and quickly grew into a forum for artful and memorable expressions of life lived differently, whether it’s driving a cab, doing time in prison, or window washing one’s way across country.

We got our name from the belief that some people, wise or not, like to go their own way, running against the grain, pursuing dreams of their own choosing.

If you’re one of those people, we’d love to hear from you.

So far, we’ve heard from many who like (and some who don’t like) what we’ve posted. In the short month we’ve been online, we’ve had more than 2,000 views, which Dell and I consider a milestone.

Recently, hometown radio host Dave Congalton, whose movie “Authors Anonymous,” premiered in San Luis Obispo last week, brought us on the air to talk about our new project. If you missed the program, you can listen to the podcast at 920kvec.com.

We’re fortunate to introduce a new voice belonging to author Ruth Rice, whose poems “ritual” and “no need of boxes” went up this week. We were introduced to her through an old friend and past contributor Larry Narron. Thank you, Larry, for the introduction.

Ruth has three books published by PoetWorks Press and has contributed in numerous anthologies, including “Bravura,” for which she also edited. As well as writing poetry, Ruth is a ceramic artist, water colorist, metal smith and fabric artist who spends her days with filthy hands and a glad heart, making art.

We revere those who get their hands dirty, making themselves glad, creating art. Welcome, Ruth. We look forward to hearing more from you as well as others who dare to go their own way.

Watch for more of these new and familiar voices in the days and weeks ahead.

—Stacey