ubterranean Blue Poetry
Volume VI Issue IX

The Cover/Art Photo:

“Candyland Express”

by Patricia Tompkins

"darkly, the night

cold, the cold

around the window,

sky, darkly . . . ”

Candyland Express

“down at the local abic

the vision of my divining

blue, the sing cat

white heat Spirit

what’s the highway like

the picture of a beautiful face

sweet and naugahyde

it is the beauty


(horses, horses

in the night)

innaying brew call

a bowry led conviction

the cause of Lucerne

in the looking glass

love whole, a smooth stone

somewhere on trash ground

running in the night

fires in the night

by water,

smooth stone by water


watching the digi counter fall



and what happens

in the middle of the night


day nult kind of affair


toast and tea account

a new Monday friend”

Subterranean Blue Poetry
Volume VI Issue IX
(September 2018)

Subterranean Blue Poetry

© 2018


by Leigh Holland

The zombification works slantwise/ Think three more words about that/ Don’t eat

[The teeth-feel of it/ Smooth and lovely viral-act, viral-act]

I will not submit me, myself to even elliptical you (Scissor-gray witch-moon
switchbacks every night) All the tendons coalesce/ Was there ever any things I ate that I didn’t eat?/ Is it “yes,” is it more than one “yes”?/

[The teeth-feel of it, claw-feel of it, of it]

Being more pressing-hungry than you, first and since/ What it was, was: slouchmoan, eat and Unhhh/ What it is, is thoughted, thoughtable, by catch-hold I can sense vitals in it/ Somewhat/

              [De-scent a valentined pulse, say no, says please/ Concavaceous]

If, pulled up heelfirst in the helltree (Mask-jaws mulching cadaverant again) Green park—nerved fastlings they echo what lungsearing, way and on they echo/

[Ticking throat, my, downsnapped head, my/ Mouthwork/ My]

(River clopped with one-limb draggers coming out) Sunken redsweets drove on in the veins of otherside not-me and songless, I didn’t/ Eat

[Smotherwrapped spine-frantics/ Never to gnaw them anymore, almost]

Break-throughs or bite-throughs/
I will not bite/ I will think words

(Or, Dear Dark Creature that You Have Become)

by Rita Anderson

While burrowing, blame the light.
     And, then, curse the darkness
even if--or maybe because--it offers
     escape. You have sought it so
let it comfort. Move over but do not
     sit down: Do not get comfortable.
You will transition through to another
     dank toadstool you cannot buy or borrow
but you still should not trust what is put there
     for show—for if you touch it, you must stay.

Keep digging.

Belonging is a touchy
     affair; better not to conceive
of what is here to let you know.
     Focus, instead, on the cool, dark things,
music of the caverns growing but don’t
     ruin it by admiring too freely. Just,
Agree! Breathe surreptitiously.

Eventually, oh, eventually. . .

You will learn, too. - Forget colors,
     all that tantalized. A peacock
once ran down this very lane, wild
     and screaming. No one noticed.
[Could.] --Isn’t that marvelous? Not
     to worry. Soon it will all dim, the tree shadows
flecked in lakes, gold glint in her eyes. Soon.
     Soon the damp will settle in, and you
won’t bump into every silvery portrait.

     Here’s the deal: The lighter you are willing
to travel, the quicker the passage so there’s no
     sense lingering. Surrender! And join the blind
salamander that fill the black ponds and rivulets
     of memory which quaver, fade, and then. Hell,
it just gets easier. . .


by Gabriel Eziorobo

It is finished
They say it is finished
they say they will do us well
more than the colonial masters of the past
that we don't need to worry about anything
but learn how to be slaves.

They say it is finished
they made us believe
the things for the deaf people
that we don't need to worry about anything
but learn how to be deaf.

They say it is finished
they put us here, in this paradise
which prisons are better off
that we don't need to worry about anything
but learn how to be prisoners
hoping to be free someday.

Featured Poet: Dorothy W. Baruch



Dorothy W. Barruch

I climbed up on the merry-go-round,

And it went round and round.

I climbed up on a big brown horse,

And it went up and down.

Around and round

And up and down,

Around and round

And up and down.

I sat high up

On a big brown horse

And rode around

On the merry-go-round

And rode around

On the merry-go-round

I rode around

On the merry-go-round


And round


Missed Connections

Montreal Craigslist – Missed Connections – October 26th, 2017 – Anonymous

avenue - w4m

I swing my legs over yours, languid sprawl barside stoop
You light Marlboro golds your cousin brought you from North Carolina.
Or were they those ancient Belmonts
Procured from that corduroy jacket you picked up last week?
Or did you roll us two in the palm of your hand
with the kind of ease that makes me wish I was still a stoner?
We wash it down with cheap vodka, or whiskey
Or was it the leftover of your mother's brandy?
If I close my eyes I can still feel the warm in my belly
The burn on my lips, that metal flask taste on my tongue.
We stumble through cobblestoned alleyways.
Did I forget my bike?
Did you?
I want to exist somewhere in that dark before 4AM last call.
I want everything to be as easy as we believed it could be.
I want to remember how to forget like that, again.

(N.B.: “one love la la la la, one love” – a note from the editor

“hello . . . “ – a note from the other editor

“then we can have fish and tuna and chicken” – says the cat

“and maybe salmon” – says the other cat

“. . . no fish, no tuna, no chicken, no salmon, no ice cream for you cats” – says Machiavelli

“then we are having whiskey” – says the cat

“whiskey you can have” – says Machiavelli)

Book Reviews

Watching the road: Somewhere The / Shaking

Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry

Title of Book: Somewhere The / Shaking

Author: Sarah Cook

Publisher: above/ground press

Date of Publication: 2017

Pages: 28

“Can you dance the shaking of the sheets . . .
Come to death and follow me.”
- from Shaking of the Sheets by Steeleye Span

An original poetic treatise, a celebration of first person narrative in the New Age Republique of Poetry, Somewhere The / Shaking by Sarah Cook and above/ground press. Sarah Cook lives and writes in Oregon, United States. She contributes articles to freelancefeminist.com and works with street youth. Her poetry has been published in The Feminist Wire, Black Warrior Review, Gaga Stigmata amongst others.

There is an incredible Zen to this poetry offering, a certain transcendence, a subtle questioning of the nature of her existence in a first-person narrative. The self-introspection is a profound truthtelling where she talks around the pain of her ended intimate relationships. A comment on the love life diaspora N.A. Themes of memory, love, the house she lives in, poetry writing and solitude all tell the story of the Poet.

The book of poetry begins with a list of furniture/parts of the house with a line of poetry about its essence in brackets, as if a table of contents, perhaps a reflection on the disembodied self. Interesting that the Poet lists “GARDEN (the always someday)” but it is not revisited in the text. The imagery is based in the furniture and different parts of the house/parts of her body, perhaps a metaphor, the idea of space and shelter, the idea of home and brokenness. It is as if she is living her day going from room to room in solitude, gazing into the sky and writing dear poignant letters, indeed this Chapbook is about profound loss and perhaps a celebration of what we still have.

The rolling enigmatic introspection creates distance and intimacy, as an observer/love object/Poet someone caught in exile, someone watching the day, watching the road, watching the sky.


was once an island       not quite cold       but the swimming       but
the water

                                   (brain that turns beauty into                                     seclusion)



if someone wants to fuck me (the invention of desirability). if someone misses me while
not around me (the lower half). light falls through half a window, hits the edge of a
lowered shade and hovers outside. light falls and my hands go down with it (the
language of me – my namebody).

if someone feels worry because of my absence (actual language: the distancing and
coming together of words) (what did you think i meant?) (come here, you).”

A beautiful poetic offering, at once a subtle protest as well as a celebration, a new progression on the tradition of lament. The Poet draws you in, it is as if she is a casual observer, someone caught in cloudsky watching for the next contestant in love, with a profound story to tell of the matrix. A brilliant write, Somewhere The / Shaking by Sarah Cook.

Available @ above/ground press.

ESPESANTES, the illuminated word

Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry

Title of Book: ESPESANTES

Author: Stuart Ross

Publisher: above/ground press

Date of Publication: 2018

Pages: 40

Do you feel anything, hummingbird?
Back and forth, cheap endings
Let's be friends, hummingbird”
- from Hummingbird by Wildling

Art Nouveau in a celebration of original absurdist images and hummingbird transcendence, ESPESANTES by Stuart Ross and above/ground press. This work is inspired by Sarah Moses’ Chapbook in Spanish, As they say (Socios Fundadores, 2016). Stuart Ross (Poet, publisher, teacher) lives and works in Cobourg, Ontario. He runs the micropress, Proper Tales, in its 40th year of operation and was the Writer in Residence at Queen’s University (2010). He has authored 20 books, poetry, essays, fiction, numerable chapbooks and been published in journals.

The cover has a very riveting picture of a hummingbird in black and white that suggests poetry, eagerly This Writer opens the book. The title of this Chapbook, ESPESANTES means thickeners in Spanish and so begins a revelry in absurdist images that spills across the page, a Poet raving at the sky. Perhaps influenced by nonsensical DaDaist forms, perhaps Absurdist Theatre, a protest at a hidden power struggle in the background, the discordant images are painful and perhaps an attempt at illumination of some dark violence.

“A work camp opened

just down the street

for people who

write music that

makes people cry.

I see them cutting

the grass, giving haircuts

to the local children,

hauling rocks. Hum

and be shot, a sign says.”

The words are sparse, pared in in very short Beat tradition beats. Each word considered, sure footed, of a Poet who has been writing for a longtime, a conversation with angels. As if written in mythos, a dialogue in illumination of angst and precepts of systemic violence.

“She danced as if

nobody could see

her skeleton. Her

skeleton stood in

the alley, babbling

about Kilimanjaro.”

Perhaps a revelation of some great suffering the beginning poems exist in some Existential ad nauseum, a hard space, only to blossom at the end into a Transcendence that suggests positive change, giving hope. The image of the hummingbird throughout the work, a beautiful illumination.

A Beat poetry progression in fantastical absurdist images that flies, a beautiful blue hummingbird. A great Canadian poetry offering, ESPESANTES by Stuart Ross.

Available @ above/ground press.

“the night

the bare walls

bleed into night . . .”

kiss me


Rebecca Anne Banks

kiss me


gently bruise

the skin of the night

fingers the night

the fur sweet bed

scent of lemon grass

oranges and tea

my heart

the breath

of shadows

haunts the trees

in the open sky


the night falls





I look

for you


was it so easy

to ride

the carousel

from blessings

to blessings

to forget

to remember

to press yourself

against the glass

the darkness.

The light







those committed to hell


come to me



Rita Anderson, a member of Poets & Writers, has an MFA Poetry and an MA Playwriting.Rita was poetry editor for Ellipsis and she has two poetry books: Watched Pots (A Lovesong to Motherhood), and The Entropy of Rocketman (Finishing Line Press). Rita won several awards including the Houston Poetry Festival and an award from the Academy of American Poets. Her poems have appeared in 100 journals and anthologies including Spoon River Poetry Review, Stonecoast Review, EVENT Magazine, and Waves: A Confluence of Voices (AROHO). Contact Rita at www.rita-anderson.com.

Rebecca Anne Banks lives in the New Age Renaissance Republique of Poetry. She is the author of over 30 books of poetry, a guide to the Holy Spirit, a primer on marriage discernment, a family cookbook, a book of children’s stories, a book of World Peace Newsletters, all available at Amazon.ca and other Amazon Stations. She has produced 3 CD`s of Folk/Rock music and has 17 CD’s of music awaiting production. She is also the CEO/Artist at Tea at Tympani Lane Records (www.tympanilanerecords.com), The Book Reviewer at The Book Reviewer (www.thebookreviewer.ca) and the Quilt Artist at Kintsugi Art Quilts (www.kintsugiartquilts.com).

Sarah Cook. The Poet's "writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Black Warrior Review, The Feminist Wire, Gaga Stigmata, and elsewhere. She writes at freelancefeminist.com and works with homeless and runaway youth in Oregon." - above/ground press

Gabriel Eziorobo is a writer and a poet from Nigeria. He is a member of loyalty reigns publications (LRP) and a member of green cat books. also assistance administrator in electic writers corner(EWC). He has written three books: Revelations of the soul, words of my mouth and the brain behind freelance writing.

Leigh Holland. “I was raised in Alabama, got an MFA in Creative Writing from Vanderbilt University, and now teach English in South Korea. I’m a formalist poet. My poetry has appeared or will soon appear in the Alabama Literary Review and Rumblefish Quarterly, and my book reviews have appeared in Thriving Family magazine.”

Stuart Ross (Poet, publisher, teacher) lives in Cobourg, Ontario. A prolific writer he has written 20 books of essays, fiction and poetry and is widely published. His most recent publishings are the poetic prose book Pockets (ECW Press, 2017) and the book of poetry A Sparrow Came Down Resplendent (Wolsak and Wynn, 2016) which won an award. He runs a micropress that has been in operation for 40 years, Proper Tales. He teaches poetry worksops and was the Writer in Residence at Queen's University (2010). Poet Stuart is noted for selling his self-published poetry chapbooks in in downtown Toronto in the 1980's while wearing signs like "Writer Going To Hell: Buy My Books." He has had work translated into Slovenian, French, Spanish and Nynorsk. He is best known for A Hamburger in a Gallery (DC Books, 2015), Snowball, Dragonfly, Jew (ECW Press, 2011) and Buying Cigarettes for the Dog (Freehand Books, 2009) amongst others.

Pat Tompkins is an editor in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her poems, short fiction, and photos have appeared in Thema, Sunlight Press, KYSO Flash, and other publications.