Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writers, Nov. 2021

November reminds me of family. The Great Feast. The best part was my Nanny’s shrimp stuffed mirlitons (Chayote, the unofficial squash of New Orleans) I try to make them at home every year in her honor, but never quite hit the mark. Her name was Aunt Mary Jane, but she helped raise me, my cousins, and also our parents when they were young. Then our kids when they eventually came as well. So everyone called her Nanny. She simply called us Heart, we all had one collective name. Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you’re celebrating this month/week/day or this very minute, love each other. Because we all have one collective name, Human. These moments and memories are all we really own in the end. Unless death goes digital.

Okay, enough squishiness, back to the business at hand. Y’all know what time it is! Below is this month’s lineup, and if you’d like to submit I’m about to start reading for February. Send 1-3 poems to with a bio and author photo. No simultaneous submissions, please. Still not taking manuscripts, but keep your eyes peeled for our next release, Somniloquy & Trauma in the Knottseau Well by Tim Heerdink! More info coming soon, awaiting the proofs.

Write On,

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writers, November 2021

My Left Sock
by Aleathia Drehmer

Nowhere and Capitalism
by AK Cola

3 Modern Haiku/Senryu
by Lori A Minor

Frailty’s Baggage – Dreaming of Jim Morrison
by Theresa Gaynord

3 Surreal Poems
by Joshua Martin

Ley Lines
by Ferris Jones

Jenny shoots up
by Emalisa Rose

Breakfast at Lucile’s
by Robert Cooperman

No TB – Please
by Hugh Blanton

A Bowerbird Implodes Above the Bank of Whys
by Jake Sheff

In The Fog
by Evie Groch

morning in new york
by Emma Geller

by Joan McNerney

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 09/20/21

Wanda (no. 110 of Women’s names sensual series)

I never depended on the
sexual kindness & comfort
from complete strangers.

I was raised on Dateline
& after hearing all about my girlfriends’ crazy shit,
the pepper spray was in my purse half-cocked,
ready to strike any madman
like a cobra.

But I have to stop
sleeping with you—
this will be the last time
we make any form of love
together—I was destroyed
by our last congress.

Since you left me,
I’ve been an empty shell,

& I know I have to move on,
& I will find someone else
I will let it slip in,
& when I feel comfortable
with myself, alone,
love might happen

like a surprise hatching
of tiny snakes,
stunning their prey
with good venom.

Damn boy,
you look tasty—
let me tread on
you lightly.

©2021 Carrie Magness Radna All rights reserved.

Carrie Magness Radna

Carrie Magness Radna is an audiovisual cataloger at the New York Public Library, a choral singer and a poet who loves to travel. Her poems have previously appeared in The Oracular Tree, Mediterranean Poetry, Muddy River Poetry Review, Poetry Super Highway, Shot Glass Journal, Vita Brevis, Home Planet News, Cajun Mutt Press, Walt’s Corner, Polarity eMagazine, The Poetic Bond (VIII-X), Alien Buddha Press, Jerry Jazz Musician, Rye Whiskey Review and First Literary Review-East. Her poetry collections: Hurricanes never apologize (Luchador Press) was published in December 2019, and In the blue hour (Nirala Publications), was recently published in February 2021. Born in Norman, Oklahoma, she now lives with her husband in Manhattan, New York.