Wednesday, June 19, 2019

Gondal Heights: A Brontë Tribute Anthology

Cover Image: Heather Schubert
I'm proud to have a poem published in this fabulous anthology edited by Marie C. Lecrivain (poeticdiversity: the litzine of Los Angeles). After Rubicon: Words and Art Inspired by Oscar Wilde's De Profundis (Sybaritic Press, 2015), in which I already had two poems published ("The Last Supper" and "An Accomodation of a Sort"), this amazing editrix comes back with another anthology: Gondal Heights: A Brontë Tribute Anthology, full of awesome work. Available from Amazon

Gondal Heights contains poems, short stories, essays, and works of art inspired by the Brontës, all of which are highly engaging and personal. Whether it’s Heather Schubert’s beautiful cover art, Sarah Maclay’s gorgeous prose poem “Field of Thorns”, or Angel Uriel Perales’ moving tribute, “Branwell Brontë’s Fevre Dream Decorum”, every piece is inspired by the Brontës, either from their lives, or from their work, which, after two centuries, still influences global culture, and other art forms.

Paperback: 106 pages
Publisher: Sybaritic Press (May 31, 2019)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1645701549
ISBN-13: 978-1645701545

Price: $12.99 + shipping buy it here

Friday, May 31, 2019

From the Depths in Horror Sleaze Trash

Horror Sleaze Trash
From the Depths (translated from the French Des profondeurs...) was published by Arthur Graham in Horror Sleaze Trash here.

Thursday, May 2, 2019

New Publications

Synchronised Chaos header

Synchronised Chaos and Oddball Magazine recently accepted some of my poems.

"A Screwdriver Right in the Heart" can be read at Oddball Magazine, illustrated with a photograph by Glenn Bowie.

Synchronised Chaos published several poems from the upcoming Swimming Holes that will be published either through Urtica Press or by Thurston Howl Publications. They can be read here.

Don't miss Norman J. Olson's travel log in this new issue, and the other contributors' work.

Thanks to both teams.

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Poppy Road Review: The South by Walter Ruhlmann



Poppy Road Review: The South by Walter Ruhlmann: You live in a world of stone and dust, the western wind sweeps dead leaves, makes rooms for the desert. Hair fluffs act like tumbleweeds: th...

Saturday, April 20, 2019

Saturday, February 23, 2019

The Loss followed by Great Moments of Oblivion Resuscitated


The Loss followed by GMO (Great Moments of Oblivion)
Poems by Walter Ruhlmann

Cover art by Walter Ruhlmann

© 2014-2019, Flutter Press and the author.

$9 plus shipping directly from the printer's website

Walter Ruhlmann is a poet who writes with wit and intelligence. His poetry is vivid and accessible full of sharp bright images that invite you into his world and then takes you down roads that trick, amuse and surprise. Jim BENNETT, poet, editor of The Poetry Kit

Walter Ruhlmann is a poet of intersecting universes, a connoisseur and composer of watchful nights, a procreator and juggler of sensual and philosophical discoveries. The gravitational field of his poetry unfolds like the appeal of an ocean echoing the voices of never ceasing questions and restless doubts. His multi-faceted, simultaneously classical and avant-garde oeuvre is a constant impelling force to dedicate our lives to perfecting our perceptive and transcendental worlds while incorporating the tangible, bodily realms as well in order to become the carnal apotheosis of millenary poetical quests.
Károly Sándor PALLAI poet, editor of Vents alizés



Disgust


Disgust took us last Saturday
its vivid veil falling on us
and covering our lives,
the breaths we were given,
voluntarily or not.

Disgust is like the fog
invading the greenish moors around us
rocks and ghost trees, grey gloomy ghouls
guarding those implacable marshes.

The smell of it is like petrol
invading the nostrils of
this nine-year-old child
at the back of the car
sucking on the temples of
those sun glasses made of plastic.
The filling of the tank
exploding in his nose.

It can also be like the acrid odour
of puke
when six or seven years later
he entered the dark corridor
of lust.

Disgust is shaped like some misshaped
mass in motion.
Monitoring our senses
and our existences.