David Alec Knight grew up in Chatham, Ontario, Canada. David has had many poems printed in American and Canadian journals and anthologies. His poems have appeared in print and/or on-line in Verse Afire, The Rye Whiskey Review, Cajun Mutt Press, The Lothlorien Poetry Journal (some poems in Leper Mosh appeared in these publications, as well as earlier versions of some poems appearing at allpoetry.com). Recent poems have appeared in the anthologies By The Wishing Tree, Poets For Ukraine Volume 1, and Muse. In 2021, David was recipient of The Ted Plantos Memorial Award for Poetry. His first book of poetry, The Heart Is A Hollow Organ, soon followed. David works in healthcare.
I’ve got to do some hedge trimming
you know what I mean
pruning the prunes
which used to be plums
and then I think
who the hell is going to see them anyway
except the wife
who doesn’t really care
all she cares about is does it still work
can she still get my attention
to stand at attention
you know what I mean
as long as it straightens up
like a private when the colonel walks in
that’s all that matters
and I guess that’s all that really matters to me
but it’s getting lost down there
buried in the nature blinds
I suspect one day I’ll go looking
and he’ll be AWOL
wouldn’t blame him
the war’s been over for some time now
©2022 Kurt Newton All rights reserved.
Kurt Newton’s poetry has appeared in Hobo Camp Review, Heroin Love Songs, and Horror Sleaze Trash. His poetry collection, Nazi Swastika Bikini Wax Illuminati, was published by Alien Buddha Press.
Well, It’s July! I’m not a fan of the heat, but it’ll start cooling off when autumn hits in a couple of months. Plus, we’re getting close to Halloween. My favorite time of the year! So there’s that.
I’ve got another great featured writer lineup for y’all, and a featured artist spot for 07/02 as well. I’d like to see more artwork come in. If any of y’all draw, paint, sculpt, collage, or anything else art-related, feel free to send something my way for a feature. I’d also like to do a Halloween-themed zine this year. I’ve talked about it in the past, but it never worked out. Send all submissions for featured writer spots, featured artist spots, and the Halloween zine to email@example.com with a bio and author photo.
Cajun Mutt Press has published five books so far in 2022! Please leave a review if you’ve grabbed a copy. Manuscript submissions are closed, but I have some more great titles lined up for the second half of the year. Keep your eyes peeled for new release announcements.
Love Y’all, Write On,
July 2022 Featured Writers:
by Kurt Newton
David Alec Knight
by Gopal Lahiri
Short Form Poetry
by Patrick Sweeney
by Vera Armstead
by Jack Phillips Lowe
The Anatomy of My Debris
by Henry Stanton
by Dan Flore III
Wise Old Owl
by Rebecca Hartz
by Chukwuma Eke Pacella Chioma
by J.J. Campbell
by Ivan Jenson
by Kushal Poddar
by Christian Garduno
Pebbles of Desolation III
Done in veins, ol’ Morley mammals
four-way with the storms once more.
Nothingness and everybody leap,
I had my ol’ hateful Cacoethes me
out once to the day drowse.
Why cabin where something for the dead
neither God nor face will look?
Come mules in June, hitch hiking off August
and be bent to see the top of face words.
Talk be born suspire and I had the little
mountain to these there. Get the mouse
with God out, and me just wishing
I’d the hitch a leaf’s explanation
though I find I’m pathetic. Do any mountains
smile? Does the height I put to fires
of August come faced with my oils?
I with old words of any kind existed
neither bourgeois meaning nor snarl worn.
Born off the pagoda roof rain, fearful
Cacoethes me sought another existence,
no drowse and out of upheavals
of any kind at planation peak.
©2022 Morley Cacoethes All rights reserved.
Morley Cacoethes currently resides in Northeast Ohio where he attends “the people’s university” while trying to stay warm and find a permanent residence.
Bring On Spring!
Lying in bed at 2 a.m. hearing
the wind lashing the rain
against my window pane.
Exactly the same as the night
I feel so bloody sick of this weather.
Just when is spring supposed to
kick in ?
I’m so sick of walking through
mud. Trying to walk around
lake sized puddles. Of having
to wipe mud, and moisture off
my dog, every time we get in
from a walk.
Now is the middle of February,
which is meant to be the last
month of winter.
So why isn’t the weather bloody
Some people say that we’re
lucky. At least it’s not snow,
but I’d prefer the beautiful
whiteness, to the never ending
grey, and brown.
Bring on spring, that’s all I can
but I’d prefer the whiteout of winter,
than everywhere looking like
the Somme, on the third day of
I just want to see sunshine, and
hear the birds sing. That’s
not too much to ask, surely ?
I know that it will come, of course,
it always does, and always will.
I just need it to happen sooner
Don’t ask me why, I just do.
I need to see sunlight, and to hear
the birds singing at stupid ‘O’ Clock
in the morning.
My soul is crying out for it.
And for a lot more besides.
©2022 Ian Lewis Copestick All rights reserved.
Ian Lewis Copestick is a writer from Stoke on Trent England. He is featured in print anthologies by Alien Buddha Press and Horror Sleaze Trash. His first book Detritus Of The Drunken Night was published by Cajun Mutt Press on April 2, 2019.