Where Swans Drift on Speakings

Dear Theo,

I long to write to you again, perhaps it will be a rather long time before we see each other; at all events I hope we shall be in Etten together at Christmas. It was Aunt Mina's birthday last Sunday, and being there that evening, Uncle Stricker asked me a few things about my work, and did not seem to be dissatisfied… I feel that I have made some progress.

Thursday I had a nice morning; Uncle Jan had gone to Utrecht, and I had to be at Stricker's at seven o'clock because Jan was going to Paris and I had promised to see him o f. So I got up early and saw the workmen arrive in the yard while the sun was shining brightly. You would be intrigued by the sight - that long line of black figures, big and small, first in the narrow street where the sun just peeps in, and later in the yard. Then I breakfasted on a piece of dry bread and a glass of beer

Things from Life in the Death of a Man by Alejandra Tuninetti

It's possible that the two Spains Anthony Machado refers to still live. The water on the surface is calm but underneath there is turbulence.

There are other Spains that are not as badly opposed as the one we are talking about; or are not known or are ignored. For Example: The Spain from the cities of the avant-garde, the Spain from the villages and towns especially those that are inland and backward.


The Spanish Civil War by Diana Ferraro

During the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) in which one of the varieties of the two Spains alluded in the Machado’s poem “Españolito que vienes al mundó opposed, Republicans against Nationalists this time, many poets, like Antonio Machado himself, went to exile and others died, like Federico Garcia Lorca, who was taken prisoner and shot.


Teeple, Tuninetti and Lorca Illustrations (Classic)


The Old Field House

Things from Life in the Death of a Man

illustrations: Federico Garcia Lorca, 5 June 1898 - 19 August 1936

Two Writers: Diana Ferraro

The Spanish American War and The Cuban War for Independence

The Spanish--American War--a conflict between Spain and the United States in 1898--coexisted with the ongoing Cuban War of Independence. A typical conflict between a powerful empire living its last chapter and an energetic and rich country with the will to prevail competed for the world’s attention with the last Latin American war for Independence from Spain. Two writers, the Cuban José Marti (1853-1895) and the American Stephen Crane (1871 -1 900) wrote about these wars. José Marti's role as a patriot would surpass his role as a poet, becoming the “Apostle" of the Independence and losing his life in a skirmish at the beginning of the Independence war, and Stephen Crane, as an American correspondent of war, would survive the sinking of his ship and live many adventures in Cuba. Both have left memorable pages about the war, which go beyond politics to enter in the history of man as a suffering being, struggling for freedom, and in the need to accept war as a sometimes unavoidable mean.

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Tepper, Ferraro, Dyer, Cogswell

Poodles by Susan Tepper

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The Spanish American War and The Cuban War for Independence by Diana Ferraro

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Lately by Neil Dyer

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Our Grandson Seeks the Snow and His Mother in Milwaukee by Tobi Cogswell

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Shadow People by Emily Glossner Johnson

The three Herlihy cousins lived in a mansion called Violet Ridge that sat high on the edge of deep and timeless Seneca Lake. There was David Herlihy, the oldest cousin; Trey Herlihy, the middle cousin; and Katie Herlihy, the youngest cousin. Ten years before Katie’s birth, Trey was born, and ten years prior to that, David was born.

'Christ died at the age of thirty-three,' Katie was quick to tell David on his birthday that year. On Trey’s birthday, she told him, 'Twenty-three is a bad number.'

'I thought thirteen is an unlucky number,' Trey said.

'That’s a superstition,' Katie said. 'I don’t believe in superstitions.'

Katie had the body of a ten-year-old and the wizened face of an old woman. Her hair was sparse and her teeth crooked. She needed braces, Trey told her, but she said she liked her teeth the way they were.

Shadow People by Emily Glossner Johnson

Equus & Anima by Peter Taylor

The Task by Maureen Wilkinson

Crossing the Pond by Charlie Britten

Magic Mirror by Nathan E. Tavaras

Snowman by Heidi Heimler

Lantry and Claffey

Ocotillo Wells by W.F. Lantry,

Here every seed and stem falls on the bare
infertile stone, yet walking cactus shoots
rise tall as men, until root frameworks fail,
but where they fall, rent branches send out growth

which thrives and flowers here, confirming
both the death and resurrection of the lost.
Thorned ocotillos lift their slender red
blossoms, like trumpets, through the desert
air, and even in the worst heat, merely spread
their arms a little wider, when they're
tossed by winds, the long hands barely move,

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Rare Glimpse by James Claffey

The Old Man travels home on the ferry from Stranraer, catching the night train in Belfast and arriving in time for breakfast. Mam is grilling Denny sausages and Galtee rashers to beat the band before he’s taken his pea coat off.

“Come here to me, son," he cries, sweeping me off my feet and dangling me upside down, my hair brushing the linoleum.

“Did you miss your Da? Did you?"

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Korean Echo by Tom Sheehan

My turn had come;
Billy Pigg, helmet lost,
shrapnel alive in him,
blood free as air,
dying in my arms.
Billy asked a blessing, had
none since birth. My canteen
came his font. Then he said,
“I never loved anybody.
Can I love you?" My father told me,
his turn long gone downhill;
“Keep water near you, always."
He thought I’d be a priest before
all this was over, not a lover.

ART Title: The War Bride

Freckles by Kim Teeple

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Don’t Even Think About It by Tobi Cogswell

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The Haunting by Holly Day

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Korean Echo by Tom Sheehan

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Summer 2011: Short Stories & Micro; Taylor, Britten, Tepper, Johnson

Green Sheep by Gail E. Taylor

Crossing the Pond by Charlie Britten

Poodles by Susan Tepper

Shadow People by Emily Glossner Johnson

Slemish, Ballymeana and Beyond
Slemish Mountain dominates the landscape around Ballymena and whenever I see it I know I’m home. Seen from the town, it has the shape of a nurturing breast. And in a way it did give birth to the Antrim Plateau and therefore the town itself. It is an extinct volcano plug -- Oonah Joslin

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A Fresh Start by Marion Clarke

A hanging gannet eyes-up breakfast,/sunshine strains in a bruised blue sky./Dirty waves stumble, nudging each other/in an empty game of rough and tumble.

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The Things in Life in the Death of a Man --Are we starting to emerge from the Middle Ages? it is a long step. Certain aspects and places have changed a lot, in others almost nothing. Distances sometimes are huge and our city-man has his routes in a faraway village; he returns periodically, revisits old childhood memories. --Tuninetti

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Lough Reflections by Marion Clarke

The wind runs in ripples along Carlingford Lough, a shadow cast by a flock of invisible birds. On the shore, strands of kelp wave and flip in the briny breeze, like the fat brown eels of my rock pool childhood.

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Managing Editor:
M. Lynam Fitzpatrick

Senior Editor:
Bill West

Editors for Review:
Ramon Collins
Nonnie Augustine
Yvette Wielhouwer

Diana Ferraro
Alejandra Tuninetti
Marie Fitzpatrick

Consulting on Copy
Digby Beaumont

Spanish Translations
Diana Ferraro
Alejandra Tuninetti
Marie Fitzpatrick

Contributing Editors
Martin Heavisides

Consulting on Photography
Maia Cavelli

Database Design and Management
Peter Gilkes

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Spain Office: Motril

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ISBN-13: 978-1477604625

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