Archive for the ‘!What’s New!’ Category

Virtual Halloweeeeen Party, 2021

Sunday, October 31st, 2021



Welcome to our virtual Halloween Party
at Defenestrationism.net

Join us as we post new message across
the day of the eve of the Day of the Dead,
into the night, across the witching hour,
and even into the Day of the Dead, itself.

We have special messages from our
contest judges, our co-editors, and
~~~~ from beyond~~~~

Are you scared yet?
Don’t be,
we’re all treats tonight
on Defenestrationism.net




Submission period for the
2022 FLASH SUITE Contest closes
the moment it is no longer November 1st, anywhere on Earth.

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Last Few Days to Submit to the 2022 Flash Suite Contest

Sunday, October 24th, 2021



We will be accepting submissions to the
2022 FLASH SUITE Contest
until it is no longer
November 1st
anywhere on Earth.



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What’s New

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Autumnal Traffic Numbers

Wednesday, October 20th, 2021



We do hope you have enjoyed our early fall content from Marianne Peel,


A Gift from Zhino, the Kurdish Translator at Kara Tepe Refugee Camp
&
Still Life


We are ecstatic to share some traffic numbers:

Our readership has rebounded sharply since our Spring contest–
seems our Lengthy Poem Contest was not overly popular, or perhaps,
we just weren’t surfing the internet all that much during a Spring of such high hopes–
and we can boast of

2,932 visits in the last four weeks,
with an average of 105 hits a day.

In the last week alone, 758 hits from 379 unique IPs.

With a daily high of 289 page views on October 8th.





Don’t miss our Defenestrationism.net Halloween Party,
as we post all day and across the witching hour,
even into the wee hours of the Day of the Dead

— music videos–

poem readings–

publication updates–

and special messages from our site staff, our contest judges, and
~~~from beyond~~~



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Still Life

Sunday, October 3rd, 2021

by Marianne Peel

For I have known them all already, known them all:
            Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoon
            I have measured out my life with coffee spoons

                           -from “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot



My beloved has mastered the artistry
of corralling his hair into a ponytail.
Blindfolded hairdresser, he crosses fingers
over and under, manipulating the elastic tie,
unable to view the proceedings
as he exposes his neck.

Tonight he reads Yeats out loud to me.
Cursed Adam knows this verse cultivating
is yeoman’s work:
     Better go down upon your marrow-bones   
     And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones   
     Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;   
     For to articulate sweet sounds together
     Is to work harder than all these.
Dirt gathers underneath my fingernails
as I dig in the muck of memory.  My beloved offers
shovels and trowels, tools to assist this unearthing of soil,
this aerating of clods of clay. I plant splintered popsicle sticks
in the dirt, hard scrapple words scribbled on them,
fodder for days that are just fog upon fog.

Tonight I read Pablo Neruda to my lover.
Let’s not speak in any language
let’s stop for a second
and not move our arms so much.
He tells me , “Quiet is a good place to be.”

His reading glasses came apart in his hands,
earpiece detaching.  Tonight
he wears my readers, purple frames
balanced on the edge of his nose. 

I offer him brie and fig jam.
Sugared pecans. 
There will be slices of nectarines,
crackers composed of cauliflower and chia seeds.
There was a time we read poems to each other every night.
He- enamored with sound and sense,
the smooth collusion of vowels paired with meaning,
of consonants blended with the severity of sound.
I- enchanted with sensory images,
the collision of sensuality and seduction,
of the tactile and the olfactory fusing at the base of the spine.

I have dressed all in white,
baked a bushel barrel of black cake,
slipped beneath Emily Dickinson’s skin.
I am his sullied bride, molasses stains on my apron,
flour on the tips of my wide heeled, sensible shoes.
He steams open my Letter to the World.
I want him to withhold judgement,
to open me with majestic tenderness.
I wait for a reply.  The post is fickle these days.
A letter could linger in a pile for days on days.

My hair is as long as it has ever been.
He smooths out the snarls with his fingers,
pulling at the roots.

I miss the splash of the pelican’s deep dive,
the blue heron still life on the edge of the dock.
I miss the wine and the whisky
while we predicted the colors of the sunset.
I miss keeping watch for Portuguese man o war,
our feet naked and vulnerable. 

Tonight, I will fall asleep on his chest.
I rehearse surreal stories as I doze off.
A cloud passes over the moon, cuts the moon in two.
A razor blade passes over an eyeball, cuts the eyeball in two.
I never knew the moon could bleed.
I never knew an eyeball could disintegrate.

My beloved tastes of fig jam and cracker crumbs.
Salty decadence,
I devour him all night long.







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A Gift from Zhino, the Kurdish Translator at Kara Tepe Refugee Camp: pt. VI.

Sunday, October 3rd, 2021

by Marianne Peel



VI.

That next morning
I found the kittens huddled in a nest of grasses,
next to the olive tree.
Eyes open just a little, letting in the light.






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A Gift from Zhino, the Kurdish Translator at Kara Tepe Refugee Camp: pt. V.

Sunday, October 3rd, 2021

by Marianne Peel




V.

It was then Zhino put her hand
on the small of my back
and guided me to the back room of the shop.
She pointed to a loose knit grey sweater on the floor,
right beneath men’s Arabic dresses. 

This is my crying place, she told me.
This is where I come when I need to cry,
when I cannot stop crying.
I will share my crying place with you.








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Winners of the 2021 !Short Story Contest!

Monday, September 6th, 2021



Never one to waste time,
the winners are:


GRAND PRIZE:

Safe Air
by Mike Wilson


RUNNER-UPs:

Snow
by Eris Young
&
Echo of Hollow Hooves
by Rachel Friedman


What a contest.

Some of our strongest writing, ever, and every single finalist received a Judge Vote. “Safe Air” was the run-away winner, with a vote from every judge, and three Grand Prize votes.


In the 75 days since we announced the finalists on June 14th, we have received 4,210 hits from 2,118 unique IPs.


Though Fan Voting didn’t have the usual turnout– there were only 63 cast!– the voting was especially interesting. We had a tie for the second runner up, so both received a half vote. Remember, each vote cast results in three votes, hence the screwy percentages…


FAN FAVORITES


“Safe Air”
by Mike Wilson
with 39 votes.


“Contiguity”
by Ale Malick
with 37 votes.


“Snow”
by Eris Young
with 27 votes
&
“Echo of Hollow Hooves”
by Rachel Friedman
with 27 votes


I told you vote often!

View How the Judges Voted

Back to the 2021 !Short Story Contest!
What’s New
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Last 16 hours of Fan Voting 2021 !Short Story Contest!

Saturday, September 4th, 2021

That’s right, you have but hour left to

VOTE

for your three favorite stories.

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A Gift from Zhino, the Kurdish Translator at Kara Tepe Refugee Camp: pt. IV.

Wednesday, September 1st, 2021

by Marianne Peel



IV.

And on that morning
Zhino asked about the mascara dripping down my cheeks.
Wondered why my eyes were swollen red.
I told her of the I’m sorry’s of the morning,
how I had no shoes
that fit the feet I held in the palms of my hands.






back to Fan Voting for the 2021 !Short Story Contest
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A Gift from Zhino, the Kurdish Translator at Kara Tepe Refugee Camp: pt. III.

Sunday, August 29th, 2021

by Marianne Peel



III.
And on that morning
Zhino, the Kurdish translator,
brought her mother into the shop.
Wanted to show me this matriarch
who had clutched the side of the raft
with all her strength and stamina
as they crossed the treacherous sea
between Turkey and Lesvos.

And on that morning
this matriarch would lay on a gurney
while the surgeon carved a tumor
out of her brain.





back to Fan Voting for the 2021 !Short Story Contest
home/ Bonafides
What’s New

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