ubterranean Blue Poetry
Volume VI Issue V

The Cover Art/Photo:


by kerry rawlinson

"grey sky parade

and sad eyes

at morning . . .


and snow is falling

in brush Westminister

the snow is quiet


and he was always going somewhere else

a bounder

uvi anti

uvi anti

uvi anti


fell down from heaven

into the wrong place

into the right place

some sweet foreign movie

without subtitles

the girl moves in

the girl moves

the girl moves out

(a suicide movie)

and God loves us

a little more

or a little less

the gifts of the Magi

Tokyo prefecture

60,000 abandoned houses

and big blue and white bowls

of hot soup

was it cold in the winter?

(a little stove

some firewood

a kettle

we warm our hands)

the bells fall from the watch tower

the turn signal

breaks in her hand


Heppala the cat

curls his paws

under him

and looks at me

the cold floors

in the morning

wake on the warmth of the sun"

Subterranean Blue Poetry
Volume VI Issue V
(May 2018)

Subterranean Blue Poetry

© 2018


Where is our Missed Connections? And is this a rhetorical question? Recently the U.S. Congress has passed a bill (FOSTA) in Congress that bans the online personals column in the States in an attempt to control the sex trade. (To be fair, the online personals are also ways for people to meet up for social activities and for love and marriage.) The Craigslist personals are only banned in the U.S., you can still read them in Canada and internationally. Unfortunately, this has spilled over and Craig has taken this opportunity to remove the Missed Connections column, leaving us with Miscellaneous Romance. And I have never found anything miscellaneous about romance. Missed Connections has always had a sort of ring to it, like that perfect love interest that walked in and then walked out, as if in some comedy stage play, not to be heard from again (although you can dream of meeting them again – perhaps in a foreign country or in heaven). I haunted the Missed Connections on Craigslist daily, I find walking through people’s personal scapes fascinating and love to mine the real romance and poetry, which although rare is like finding love and found treasures. Then I post here in Subterranean Blue with our Editor(s) and cat(s) dialogue, a commentary on New Age romance. I have mined enough Missed Connections to last probably until the end of 2019. And although now reading Miscellaneous Romance, I have only found one interesting tag, but it is just not the same, it seems more sex and nothing, a stark Existentialism. I ask you where is the love? I will have to see how the Miscellaneous Romance progresses, perhaps I will change the title of the Missed Connections to Romance (certainly not Miscellaneous Romance – there is nothing outre or sundry or disparate about romance – real romance is a Jane Austen storybook, everyone is happily married in the end), perhaps I will leave it as Missed Connections and just change the Craigslist tagline. Missed Connections, a comment on the broken heracy of romance in N.A., a place where only 18% (United States) and 38% (Canada) of the population is married, and in some parts of the city of Montreal, 50% of the people live alone. Missed Connections disparu, the end of an era, perhaps progressing into a new era of Romance or at least tea and conversation and an online economy.

- the Editor of Subterranean Blue Poetry

P.S.: today (May 4th, 2018) all the personal classifieds were down for Canada and Europe as well. It is desolé.

P.S.S.: today (May 8th, 2018) I found the Missed Connections in the Community section. Reluctant to celebrate unless they disappear again, in general a sigh of relief. Many Thanks to Craig.


by Margarita Serafimova

In this circle,
in the eternal circle of mortal life,
I always find you.


by Margarita Serafimova

The mighty road was winding and going,
nothing could stop it.
It was laid.


by stephanie roberts

you buy a half-litre of cabernet sauvignon
for under twenty bucks & start tucking in
right away.

thoughts crash down the aisle like a late
november thunderstorm on the coldest day
of the year.

a year begun in ventricle-chilling fog. a sip
then he appears hooded-eye & sullen at the
front of the car.

you're already moist and disbelieving as he takes
your plastic Greenware cup: cups from plants
make a difference.

right there he starts to make a difference with
you on the the floor between seats (the aisle
also implicated).

by god people will just have to step around.
his mouth closes over in an appeal
of serpent and vacuum seal.

you want to die in this torrent of melting. die
grabbing collar seeking continuance to
this poem.

which can't end! can't end here while so many
avert their eyes—not with this can't-be-happening
& always wanted.

always wanted your tigersoul gordian knotted
—an absolute wreck of unfettered imagination
& whet possibility.


by Rita Anderson

She stands naked as a celery stalk in grandmother’s kitchen,
     holding a blue apple. (A teacher, she knows
the apple is blue because it is not getting enough oxygen.)

He is snapping on his jeans when his wife —
     across town—texts, punching in
their wedding date as message. A deep freeze is coming

so he zips his coat, giving the girl in the family
     kitchen a parting peck on the apple. (It is still blue.)
Careful not to drop the apple on her palm, which rocks

with the effort, she moves behind him to lock the door,
which is liquid fire. Alone again, alone, she tries
to sleep without disturbing the blue fruit but it has warmed

a sweat-circle where it sits in her hand—which almost
rests atop a king-sized comforter that doesn’t.
(Can you imagine?) Home, he disrobes again and falls

asleep, after filing into bed behind
     the wife, his body spooning her
aluminum frame. No part of him is blue.

i speak geranium

by Rita Anderson

one always comes
hungry to a feast
but the hand that bakes

the bread tires
of always having to
bake the bread

and the table is sick
of the politics of being
a table, the window

admires the chair.
When I think
of you [I try

not to] there’s
the heat we always
shared. But not much

else. thoughts turn
and return like
the dull
tick of a clock
in a hidden room,
the heart’s secret

like the dog’s snore--
a tune you don’t know
from a song you swear

you’ve heard before.
you long to do nothing
but stretch nude

across the dreams
of someone new,
a red streamer

in the wind
as free as
the unplucked
fruit from a distant
vineyard, headlights
that sluice through

darkness. how odd that
the word execute means
both to destroy and to create.

--I totally understand
the “I’m thinking
about this, not thinking

about that yet” dynamic
because reasons. Once
upon a time long long ago

a long-forgotten person
made a parsley soup
that was the best

I ever ate.
you touched me

a long time ago,
that never happened.
We are. and we aren’t

but we do. Think about it.
a ceiling we avoid.
like birds who fly low

before the storm.
your attention
a red blossom

[That speaks]
through the fence.

Featured Poet: Emily Dickenson

Wild nights - Wild nights!


Emily Dickenson

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Were I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

Futile - the winds -

To a Heart in port -

Done with the Compass -

Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden -

Ah - the Sea!

Might I but moor - tonight -

In thee!

Missed Connections

Craigslist Maine – Missed Connections – October 4th, 2017

Letter Frequencies - m4w (eh_tay_oh-in)

thought I would look up if I'm crazy. I guess it's just normal patterns. Following is exerts from letterfrequency dot org but probably elsewhere. how dUmb do i feel now. Anyways. Sun was shining saw a Sun chip truck and thought of you. Oh and the vanity plate i saw today was so so oh if you were here I would tell you.

"etaoin shrdlu" (eh-tay-oh-in shird-loo), was believed to be the twelve most common letters in the English language. The word came from linotype typesetting machines. The first, left row of six keys on a linotype machine produce the word "etaoin". The second, left row of six keys produce the word "shrdlu". The linotype machine keys are labeled: etaoin-shrdlu-cmfgyp-wbvkxj-qz". The letter 'h' appears more often in every day speech and writing than it does in a list of dictionary words. The first twelve letters "e t a o i n s r h l d c", are found in around 80% of the words in the English language.

(N.B.: “skin a min a rinky do, skin a min a rinky dee . . .”* – a note from the editor

“I love you” – a note from the other editor

“it is Summer . . . “ – says the cat

“have a Coke” – says the other cat

“no Coke for you, cat” – say Machiavelli

“then I want Summer” – says the other cat

“no Summer for you, cat” – says Machiavelli

“it is always Coke and Summer for the cats around here” – says mum)

* from Sharon, Lois and Bram.

Book Reviews

Moon Petals: in the beginning, the dance with the universal sky

Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry

Title of Book: Moon Petals

Author: Jessica Ginting

Publisher: PT Torako

Date of Publication: 2017

Pages: 88

“She can't tell me that all of the love songs have been written,
'Cause she's never been in love with you before.”
- from Sandalwood by Lisa Loeb

Moon Petals is the exciting New Age work of emerging poet Jessica Ginting. Jessica Ginting is from Jakarta, Indonesia, studying English at the University of Bristol. She has been published by Anak Sastra, a Southeast Asian literary journal and by publications at the University of Bristol. She is also one of the founders of Inkling: A Bristol Literary and Creative Arts magazine.

This poetry is elaborate with full-bodied descriptive lines of everyday landscape that centers on Indonesian forest imagery, imagery of the city, love poetry, Haiku and the everyday landscape celebrated. The poetry is round, in square spaces, in the beautiful esprit of the childlike feminine. The connected narrative weaves in and out of the first and third person, introducing a wholeness that is perhaps illusory. However, as an emerging writer her style will morph and develop as she keeps writing.

“Decomposition” and “Nature is a Masochistic Botanist” are poems of broken love relationship that paint a beautiful Asian sensibility illustrated by nature imagery and a certain sacred in the profound.

From “Nature is a Masochistic Botanist”

“I brought flowers today – a handful of hibiscuses.
You wanted the color without the thorns, the red without the blood.
I’m sorry I couldn’t find roses. I’m sorry for dropping them on your shoes.
Would you like to kick them off? Would you like to forget?”

From “Decomposition”

“Every form of skeleton breaks down. Mozart’s symphony unwinds itself
And the strings of my violin twist into something new.

Words are no longer trapped in letters.
Meanings, no longer trapped in words.

I am no longer confined.
Settled into soil and dust, I am everywhere around you.”

A talent in it’s beginning dance with the universal sky, poetry like cake, shows great promise. I am looking for more from this writer, Moon Petals by Jessica Ginting.

Available @ Amazon.co.uk.

CANCON: Art Nouveau from Generation X

Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry

Title of Book: CANCON

Author: Nathan Dueck

Publisher: above/ground press

Date of Publication: 2017

Pages: 20

“That someone's smiling, right at me.
Wait! That someone’s talkin' to me.”
- from Degrassi Junior High Theme Song by Paris

CANCON is an art nouveau poetry sendup inspired by the hit Canadian television show Degrassi Junior High by Nathan Dueck and above/ground press. Nathan Dueck is a Canadian Generation X Poet, born in Winnipeg. He has studied at the University of Manitoba and has written the books king’s (mère) (Turnstone Press, 2004) and he’ll (Pedlar Press, 2014). This is his second Chapbook published with above/ground press, the first being @BillMurray in Purgatorio (2013).

This poetry is an esoteric, art nouveau send-up of the television program Degrassi Junior High. At once humorous and enigmatic, a disaffected view, a disconnect that is funny and tragic at the same time. It is broken, perhaps stilted dialogue as if a mix of spoken word with broken thoughts. An underscore of conversations between the young adults at school – perhaps a hidden dialectic or a hidden monster in sendup.

concert next month?

Twenty bucks says you can’t


convince my mom – she acts like she’s mega-poor.

concert tickets?

I do all the work, why can’t

I don’t think I can
contains the photographs and a price list.”

The names of the characters in the show, Snake, Wheels, Ms. Pelton, Dwayne, Mr. Raditch, Damon are woven into their disembodied dialogue, comments about parents, going to concerts, who won the science fair prize, running for class president. All in some kind of disconnected haze, perhaps a disconnected reality, maybe mimicking an acid trip. There is an interplay highlighting rights with permissions, a flow of variations on “I can” and “I can’t”, “you can” and “you can’t”, “they can” and “they can’t” that runs through the entire poem, as if some kind of adolescent nightmare descending on the unsuspecting. A humorous take on teenagers, and the audience sitting in front of the television being sucked up by television fumes.

An exciting New Age poetry work, CANCON by Nathan Duek and above/ground press.

Available @ above/ground press.

"comme la neige a neigé"
- from Soir d'hiver by Emile Nelligan



the snow falls

storm of winter

quiet asleep . . . "

the night


Rebecca Anne Banks

(you saved me

from the storm)



coddlestone pie

je t’aime cloudburst #9

o’ glorianna

o’ glorianna

o’ glorianna

the night

arms wrapped around the moon,


longing for love

the cat in moonlight

the anarchy in moonlight

gateway clauses

at the end

a package of memories

in a bright tied bow

waiting for you

at the edge

a rolling French liturgy,

Micky Malwaa

in London-towne

the great silence

and the beating of the wings of angels.


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 www.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 won an IAIRA award for top 55 Internet airplays for Angel Song, 2010. 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).

Nathan Dueck is a Canadian Poet born in Winnipeg. He has studied at the University of Manitoba and written 2 books, king’s (mère) (Turnstone Press, 2004) and he’ll (Pedlar Press, 2014). He has also published 2 Chapbooks with above/ground press, the first being @BillMurray in Purgatorio (2013) and CANCON (2017).

Jessica Ginting (Poet, Poetry Editor, Student) was born in Jakarta, Indonesia. She studies English at the University of Bristol and has been published by Anak Sastra, a Southeast Asian literary journal and by poetry publications at the University of Bristol. She is also one of the founders and poetry editor at Inkling: A Bristol Literary and Creative Arts magazine.

kerry rawlinson. Decades ago, autodidact & bloody-minded optimist kerry rawlinson gravitated from sunny Zambian skies to solid Canadian soil. She now pursues Art & Literature’s Muses around the Okanagan, barefoot; her patient husband ensuring she’s fed. Recent pieces appear in Arc Poetry; Boned, Pedestal, Speculative66; ReflexFiction; pioneertown; Anti-HerionChic; MinolaReview; Geist; AdHocFiction; FiveOnTheFifth; amongst many others. Visit kerryrawlinson.tumblr.com.

stephanie roberts. Published in almost two dozen journals, in North America and Europe this year, stephanie roberts has been featured in The New Quarterly, Room, CV2, The Stockholm Review of Literature, and Breakwater Review, to name a few. She also has a manuscript finalist in the Anomalous Press Open Reading. Living in a wee French town, just outside of Montréal, she counts among her strengths passionate curiosity and good humour. Twitter @ringtales. www.oceansandfire.com.

Margarita Serafimova was shortlisted for the Montreal International Poetry Prize 2017. She has two collections in the Bulgarian: Animals and Other Gods (2016), Demons and World (2017). Her work appears in London Grip New Poetry, Trafika Europe, The Journal, A-Minor, Waxwing, StepAway, Ink, Sweat and Tears, Minor Literatures, Writing Disorder, The Birds We Piled Loosely, Noble/ Gas, Obra/ Artifact, Poetic Diversity, Harbinger Asylum, and many other places. Some of her work: Facebook.