Issue 213

Robert L. Giron
Sep 1
5 min read

This issue features

poetry by Christian Hanz Lozada,
photography by Gynane,
poetry by Dennis Maloney,
photography by Russ Heinl,
poetry by Richard Stimac,
poetry by Geo. Staley,
photography by Nicoleta Raluca Tudor,
poetry by Carol Tyx,
photography by Ken Barnett, and
poetry by Diana Woodcock

Christian Hanz Lozada

The Dreaded Ones

Sometimes the sun also rises,

hard, reflecting light

and almost mirroring

itself in the West.

You know the world can’t

change, that the sun can’t

come from the Pacific,

but sometimes you swear

you can feel gravity

and the poles switch,

and the needle points anew.

It’s not the dawn,

but even false

sunrises offer hope.

About the Author

Christian Hanz Lozada aspires to be like a cat, a creature that doesn’t care about the subtleties of others and who will, given time and circumstance, eat their owner. He wrote the poetry collection He’s a Color, Until He’s Not. His Pushcart Prize nominated poetry has appeared in journals from five continents and counting. Christian has featured at the Autry Museum and Beyond Baroque. He lives in San Pedro, CA and uses his MFA to teach his neighbors and their kids at Los Angeles Harbor College.

Gynane

Statue of Justice

Dennis Maloney

Woman Holding a Balance

Her face serene and her untroubled concentration

draws our gaze, as our eyes dart over

the string of pearls and the gold chains

slung carelessly over the edge of her jewelry case.

A painting of the last judgement

hangs on the wall behind her

suggesting there are lives in the balance.

As if they were placed on a scale,

here the object, here the color,

never more, never less

than is needed for a perfect balance.

It might be a lot or a little but

that depends as always on

the exact equivalent of the object.

But the dishes are empty,

she seems to weigh air

she is expectant, but of what?

The tiny scales are empty.

Is the woman weighing souls?

Or merely the light glinting

off the metal balance?

About the Author

Dennis Maloney is a poet and translator. A number of volumes of his own poetry have been published including: The Map Is Not the Territory, Just Enough, Listening to Tao Yuan Ming, The Things I Notice Now, The Faces of Guan Yin and Windows. A bilingual German/English volume, Empty Cup was published in Germany in 2017. Clearing the Stream: New & Selected Poems will appear in 2025 from Walton Well Press. His work has been translated into over a dozen languages including full length collections in German, Japanese and Bulgarian.

Russ Heinl

Aerial Image of Newfoundland on Canada’s East Coast

Richard Stimac

Continental Drift

The earth always moves beneath us,

though we think our standpoint still.

Here, in the stolid Midwest, we drift

westward, southward, one inch per year.

When I turned fifty, where I was born

was nearly fifty feet from where it had been.

Plats must be dismantled; distances, redrawn.

How are any of us to know where we are?

Once, years ago, here in the land of rivers,

the earth shook us to our bones.

Church bells rang in Boston. The river

ran backwards, a metaphor for time.

We haven’t had such a scare since,

though experts warn: expect change soon.

The country under my feet is shifting.

The center stays the center, yet moves.

There is no fixed thing as entropy,

only new patterns, yet unmeasured.

Words, like land in an earthquake,

become liquid. Meaning is infinite.

When I trace my finger along a map,

I am a child drawing in sea-swept sand.

The map is paper. It’s geography, ink.

I live in a land I no longer recognize.

About the Author

Richard Stimac has published a poetry book Bricolage (Spartan Press), two poetry chapbooks, and one flash fiction chapbook. In his work, Richard explores time and memory through the landscape and humanscape of the St. Louis region. Visit him on Facebook: “Richard Stimac poet”.

Geo. Staley

No Más

I understand white privilege,

benefited from it,

and accept my moral obligation to help

those who never had the opportunity.

34 People in the Sunroom

The man in the long-term care facility

relegated to a bed or wheelchair

mostly blind and growing deaf

barely able to feed or bathe himself

unable to share memories

with those he made them with

was asked,

“Gilbert, what does turning 100 today mean to you?”

He said,

“Someone remembered me,”

and wept.

About the Author

Geo. Staley is retired from teaching literature and writing at Portland Community College. He had also taught in New England, Appalachia, and on the Rosebud Sioux Indian Reservation. His poetry has appeared in Chest, Main Street Rag, Clackamas Literary Review, RE:AL Artes Liberales, New Mexico Humanities Review, Fireweed, Trajectory, Evening Street Review, Slab, and others.

Nicolet Raluca Tudor

Killing in Gaza

Carol Tyx

Mass Grave in Gaza

They buried the medics

they shot, hands bound,

and then they buried

the ambulance, too,

just in case, killing

the chance someone’s

life could still be saved.

Based on Democracy Now April 7, 2025: “Point-Blank”: Israeli Soldiers Execute 15 Gaza Medics & Rescue Workers, Bury in Unmarked Mass Grave

About the Author

Carol Tyx is trying to withstand the onslaught of chaos and cruelty in her country. Besides reading and writing, she works with others on environmental and immigration issues. Her latest books include Achilles: Slicing into Angola’s History that gives voice to a 1951 prison uprising and the chapbook Rearranging Myself.

Ken Barnett

Rocky Whirlpool

About the Artist

Ken Barnett is a retired social worker who took up photography late in life. Endlessly fascinated by nature in both small and large scale he tries to capture and share wonder with his camera. You can see more of his work at https://kenbarnettphotography.com.

Diana Woodcock

In Spite of Us

for Antarctica

In spite of us,

all things are one.*

In spite of all the damage done—

the human-caused chaos—

the light returns.

And after the storm,

tranquility. Ghost settle-

ments of whaling stations

still haunt the pristine

landscape— enough to break

the heart—skulls and

vertebrae of whales

littering the beach.

Who better to teach

the hard lessons about

waste and greed?

*Note: This is in response to Chuang-Tzu’s quote: “The universe came into being with us together. With us, all things are one.”

About the Author

Diana Woodcock has authored seven poetry collections, most recently Reverent Flora ~ The Arabian Desert’s Botanical Bounty (Shanti Arts, 2025), Heaven Underfoot (2022 Codhill Press Pauline Uchmanowicz Poetry Award), Holy Sparks (2020 Paraclete Press Poetry Award finalist), and Facing Aridity (2020 Prism Prize for Climate Literature finalist). A three-time Pushcart Prize nominee and Best of the Net nominee, she received the 2011 Vernice Quebodeaux Pathways Poetry Prize for Women for her debut collection, Swaying on the Elephant’s Shoulders. Currently teaching at VCUarts Qatar, she holds a PhD in Creative Writing from Lancaster University, where she researched poetry's role in the search for an environmental ethic.