Tag Archives: Without Dorothy

Postcards from the Knife-Thrower’s Wife by Alex Stolis

August 2 – Woodstock, N.B. Canada

I’m a girl on a dragon-fly on the back of a horse heading
straight into the wind under an unbreakable sky. You are
not here. You are made-up words in an invented language
spoken in whispers. I remember every detail of the world
we created from scratch. I remember that day the moon
eclipsed the sun and for a moment the earth turned cold.
The sky turned deep green no stars in sight. You wrote me
of a dream you had; lost, afraid and miles away from home.
You heard the low beat of wings. You felt the steady pound
of hooves and I readied myself for flight.

Alex Stolis lives in Minneapolis; he has had poems published in numerous journals. Recent chapbooks include Justice for all, published by Conversation Paperpress (UK) based on the last words of Texas Death Row inmates. Also, Without Dorothy, There is No Going Home from ELJ Publications. Other releases include an e-chapbook, From an iPod found in Canal Park; Duluth, MN, from Right Hand Pointing and Left of the Dial from corrupt press. The full length collection, Postcards from the Knife Thrower was runner up for the Moon City Poetry Prize in 2017. His chapbook, Perspectives on a Crime Scene was recently released by Grey Border books and a full length collection Pop. 1280, is forthcoming from Grey Border books in 2019. 

http://greybordersbooks.jigsy.com/alex-stolhttp://greybordersbooks.jigsy.com/alex-stolisis

“Schoolhouse Rock” by Alex Stolis

Three is a Magic Number

The moon is full. Strike that. The moon is. Strike that.
There is no moon. There is a motorcade. Motorcycle
cop in full regalia, an American flag flies stiff in back.
The hearse is black, the black of silence; the kind that
crowds out light. Squeeze my hand want to know you
are still there. I’m having a premonition. Count the cars
with me: twothreefour, a hawk circles. The moon’s over
head after all, perched on a branch ready to fly.

The Shot Heard Round the World

The jukebox whirs and murmurs to a stop. Lipstick
law takes over after 2AM. Every cliché ever heard
gets lined up, ice-watered down, poured into a cup
along with sawdust and pool chalk. Go ahead suck
the lime. Lick the salt. Choke on it down. All bets
are off since the clean slate called it a night. This is
the land of a-plenty, land of absolute memories.
Last call is a random, desperate kiss.

Elementary, My Dear

The walls are suffocating, shedding their skin.
We’re not born for permanence. Adam made
the decision for us. We are destined to die of
exposure in the presence of love. Beauty: the
bite of an apple, a flash of white skin, one last
breath on a pane of glass. Sin: a constituency
of stars, a cabal of angels shuffling over a pin
head; a brand new coat of paint.

Alex Stolis lives in Minneapolis; he has had poems published in numerous journals. Recent chapbooks include Justice for all, published by Conversation Paperpress (UK) based on the last words of Texas Death Row inmates. Also, Without Dorothy, There is No Going Home from ELJ Publications. Other releases include an e-chapbook, From an iPod found in Canal Park; Duluth, MN, from Right Hand Pointing and John Berryman is Dead from White Sky e-books. His full length collection, Postcards from the Knife Thrower, was a runner up for the Moon City Poetry Award. His chapbook, Perspectives on a Crime Scene and a full length photo/poetry collection, Pop. 1280 are forthcoming from Grey Borders books.