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  A Message From The Editor   Table of Contents
  Dear Readers,

   Desert Moon Review is nearing its first birthday. During the past year sincere critiques have been given with mentoring in mind, rather than merely a critique of the poem. I have seen the poetry of several poets improve significantly through a caring, interactive process. Crescent Moon Journal has remained a stepchild, partly because of my learning curve, but also because the ebb and flow of volunteer editors. This edition is my first. I am sending it to Christopher T. George, my good friend, fellow staff person, and professional editor for critique and suggestions before publication.

   The poets featured here are worthy of their work being displayed. Some were asked to submit for possible publication; others were noted on Desert Moon Review. We present them with the belief that you will enjoy their fine poetry.

   Ladies and Gentlemen, the Spring Edition of Crescent Moon Review -

My best to all,
Jim Corner, Editor

 

The Selections
   C.E. Chaffin
      Vessel
   Sara Catherine Blaise
      Still Life
  Christopher T. George
      Patrice Lumumba (1925-1961)
   Carmela Cohen
      An Archeologist Finds a Zipper, Strata Bound
   Chris O' Carroll
      Lopsided
  Jim Corner
     The Ambiguity of Yearning

clear glass marbles
 
The Selections
 
  glass beads

Vessel
by C.E. Chaffin

I was full, flowing and singing
with transparent life that fed
the roots and bulbs and leaves.

One day a distant hand turned a wheel
and I was reduced to dripping
then stopped altogether.

I was hollow but didn't know it.
I retain the shape of flow
but if you place your fingers

on my seams there is no thrum.
Please keep your hand away;
do not remind me.



Still Life
by Sara Catherine Blaise

I remember photographs.
Tiles shine through the flesh
of six million days,
spotlight shoes
that will not walk again.

Scalps in dim image
of filleted lampshades,
maiden braids break
over the rainbow.
The gate stands silent.
Crossing over,
no one returned.

Brick walls were personal;
porous, moist, inanimate.
They wrap around
a reservoir, discarded
bones for sale.

 
  C.E . Chaffin is editor of the online magazine, Melic Review. He received his B.A. in English from U.C.L.A. in 1976. He is the recipient of The Edward Niles Hooker Award for Outstanding Achievement in English. He is widely published and enjoys his work as editor and mentor.   Sara Catherine Blaise lives and writes in New Mexico.
glass beads
 
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  Patrice Lumumba (1925-1961)
by Christopher T. George

Patrice, pater patriae, por patriae mori, lacrimae rerumpink plasma glow

In the Katanga savannah that terrible night,
they sacrificed you on an altar of pan-Africanism;
in your Congo of violets and violence, copper and blood.
You were the expendable African, who died for your people,
liquidated because faceless men decreed it be so,
Ike who wished you "would fall into a river of crocodiles"
and the British foreign secretary who "regretted the loss
of the techniques of old-fashioned diplomacy,"
your old masters, the Belgians, the CIA, the Russians,
the U.N. How many stood by and watched your
degradation? So you were delivered into the hands
of your enemies that night in Katanga, delivered for execution.
Later, the butler said the Katangan ministers lined up
to wash blood from their hands and more bottles
of whiskey were drunk. Your elimination was well done.
Patrice, pro patriae mori.

 
  Christopher T. George was born in Liverpool, England in 1948 and emigrated to the United States in 1968. A resident of Baltimore, Maryland, he has been published in Poet Lore, Lite, Maryland Poetry Review, Smoke, and Bogg. He is also a lyricist with a musical on Jack the Ripper to his credit, "Jack, The Musical," written with French composer Erik Sitbon.  
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  An Archeologist Finds a Zipper, Strata Bound
by Carmela Cohen

Time comes to:
a sleeping bag in the bluegrass.

She's got a view--
constellations, renames them
space acupuncture.

Blood an amalgam: needles and pins.
He erupts in tips of things,
probes distance like a lesion.

She fastens their chamber whole--
the pinch of silver sutures.
Only light gets put to sleep.

Infra-red is what they go by--
the cosmos encapsulates: impulse
and earth of skin.

Carmela Cohen was born in Santiago, Chile in 1965. Since then she has lived mostly in Highgate, England, New Hampshire, Kansas and Wisconsin, USA. She graduated from the University of Wisconsin at Madison where she majored in Latin American Literature and Ibero-American Studies. After getting her teaching license, she taught Spanish to middle and high school students. She now lives in Israel with her husband and three young children. Cohen would like very much to return to school to study Environmental Science.

ferris wheel
 
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The Ambiguity of Yearning
by Jim Corner

A paisley box wrapped in cord,
with chocolate in a velvet pouch,
coffee grown in Kona's soil,
a medallion and chain,
dolls in a doll of papier-mache,
sent over four years.

The phone rings in late December,
halts my mood; portends
a father-daughter discord.
Four waiting years are ended;
a plaintive voice breathes,
" no strings attached."





Lopsided
by Chris O'Carroll

Foot snagged in twigs
we watched its parents
fetch and fashion,
blue jay chick dangles

upside down. Wings jut
flightless angles. Nest sports
new silhouette -- lopsided skull,
one ungainly earring.

 
 

 

Jim Corner is owner and managing editor of Desert Moon Review. His poetry appears monthly on Disciples Today, the national online magazine for The Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in the USA. He is a graduate of The University of Tulsa, B.A. and M.A. degrees with published works in several magazines and newspapers.

Chris O'Carroll is a writer actor and comedian. You can read his poetry at his website, (www.anticdisposition.com) and in a variety of journals, including Electica, Snow Monkey, Thunder Sandwich, and the forthcoming all-boy issue of the usually all-girl Mentress Moon. He is the author of the light verse collection, Take These Rhymes...Please: Rude Limericks and Other Crimes Against Literature and the chapbook, Shakespeare's Marijuana and Other Poems the Authorities Don't Want You To Read.
 
 
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