The National Quarterly

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POETRY: H.E. MANTEL

FICTION: RIVINGTON ST.

THE GOLDWYNISMS

HEALTHY EATING - GILMORE

UK CUISINE - NANCY KOPP

MEMORIES OF FIDEL - BHARI

RUMORS AND RUMBLINGS

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Fall 2009 - Fiction • Culture • Politics • Humor

 - STUYVESANTOWNE -

Across the River, West 'tis that
at the cliffs & clefts of Victoria above
blackish waters slick as Legislation, of Verrazzano
& not-so-merried ferries, the promontory sits of
visage,
resplendented of red deer & red bear &
white Eagles' scat from Lady Liberty!

Why, in the glare of where, opossum
& red squirrel, vied in-passioned
imposters of small virtue in deed 
sought, wrought of purloin
for some vertu & bijouterie for
Manhattan
!
- (The Chief Islander - so the Mythic goes!) -

But Hey!, it's up-on the BigScreen, now
playin' @ The Bijou, & in the dutri-plexes
& plexes of plexiglasse &
MegaPlexes of Tribeca, in the Tri-boros+2...

Avaunt!
Above Verrazzano visage   
tramontane, There! The filth & flair
urbanicide of City-fare, miasma which got us into
insouciant Dutch!
                                H.e.m.
                                4.19.MMvii.
                                ("5.4.MMDCXXVI")
- SHAME! -

Lady Holi'Day -
"I Love You, Porgie/Don't let
them
take Me/..." her lush

sad-voice, coarse & closed
& the '40's "Strange Fruit" All
and I am White, Shame!

                        H.e.m.
                        7.16.MMvi.
                        (Revised - To Haiku/Senryu - 1.19.MMviii.)

- Barbara, Dear -

Jena? Jena...? Je?...    
     BeBe?, wha' is It? I was
aslee...     Kin I come

in with you? I'm...     Sure,
are you alright?     Umm-hmm.  I
was woked     I didn't

hear you, by what?     A
noise...by my bed...my head hurts
     Here, you can have my

pillow, & sshh, we
don't want to wake mom, 'k?
Jen, where's daddy, how

come...?     BeBe.     But, I
miss him.     We all...me too, he's...
working
, remember?    

Umm
, I think so. Jen?
     Yeah?     Dad flies in planes, right?     Uh-
huh. Sometimes he drives

them     Where?     Oh, to some
places...     Here?     No.     Jen?     BeBe.
     Does daddy shoot bombs?

                                      H.e.m.
                                      1.31.MMix. 

- BOUCHE A FEU -
                                                  
Carbon-forged steel
appliance, fashioned
to home & eject
upon triggering...

Lead-tipped, alloy missiles
projected to a velocity of
360
mi./hour, roughly
a .357 1/2 fast a 727, Boing!
to shoot your ass!

On contact, impacting
the Human target
to penetrate, flay
sever & shatter
lodge & murder
render...!

And
this
the initiates' pander
to the seether's gunglamour,
of neo's & diehards' machismo-alike
upoverthere, everywhere
on the plasma, how iron-ick!

Faster than the batted-eye,
a Buntline, smokin' Brown Bess, or
Black Maria (Oh, Mother Of G*d!,
"The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune...")

We're Lost!
                             H.e.m.
                             11.23.MMvii.

- SKYDRIVER? -

...Again, the traffic obese
surfeit to say, as I
cloy'd my way... slowed
by the creeps, & crawlers
of the serein morning...
phones-in-hand or set to-head
out powered opening windows
searching for the jam, &
blame for delayn',
Oh, imprecating blare of WJAM,
hip-pop & copter traffic-reports -
Jinni!, Jeez
, I'm in It! 

What's't now? -
Strewn bodies, heads like mashedmallows 
'crossed the stone-separator astain,
overinseminated into deflating crash bags,
"Highest-Rated", splinterglassed Accordian-cars prolapsed
& pried of Death's-pride by Life's ironic Jaws... or Worse?...
a Zorra-Babe's fire-red dressed flattened tire
& a stalwarted, strident trooper 
(pisces notare docere - ecce interum Crispinus
) -
slaking on the swale?

No! None of it!, no Wrecks' rubbernecks,
Not this Morn -
No wrecks' bottlenecks...
(More at the deep, M. Mercoury's? never drive on Sunday!) -
of SUG's' guzzle pride & F-151's
Rum 'n cokers' "I Love My Truck Like My Wife's Girlfriend."

So... What!?    But
through the serein Morn
shows the stopper
to the burlesque, of glancer & starer,
of Blue-toothers & hybred diesels
from Horizon to Horizon...
The Arc
,
like an arched PrismAngel
One primary
Cray-hola! bridged and a-Burst
Ribboning the Sky, West.

Slowed by peer
in this serein Morn
of meld & melting fog, 
thru the snarls & snarl,
the BM'ers & dreamers to watch,
No-Fault Hope,
A fading Rainbow!   
                             

               H.e.m.
               10.15.MMvii.
               HML

- CUSTPIDYMAN - 
 
Was his weekend with
our sinew-budding boy;     Hey!
Mom, he bubbled spill-
 
ing through the door, guess
what? I tried not to react...    
     Dad & I had
 
a "kickAss" time!     What!?,
I blurted.     Yeah! he took me
to the archery-
 
gun range & then to
his friends, we hung-out & swam
in a big rock-carry
 
& Dad & his friend
& me we had some barbeque
it was r-e-a-l spicy
 
& stuff to drink.      He
was breathless!  When I called my
ex-joker
for some
 
more info, some clar-
ification to the week-
end, in a try to
 
get us on the same
page, he managed to almost
only comment      Did
 
he also tell you
I showed him how to spit!?

                      H.e.m.
                      c.3.MMvii.
 

- EL CAMINO REAL - TRA, LA-LA... -

 ...OK, c'mon Kids
jump-into the Conflict an'
we're off! - let those seat-
 
belts, now - lots of miles-
'n-smiles ahead (Jeez, glad we
got the X-UL-
 
E Model), MT
V'll be on, you can Pod-
cast to your iPods

if you don't, & save
to your LapCubes, wanna watch
but listen later...

just be sure your buds,
we'll have our own iTunes...Jed,
watch that swiveling Jess'

chair, texting online...
     Dad?     Jeff, the Gatorade's in
with the Nutella -

the Sub-Zero, um
under the the swiveltable...
Yeah, sure, I love those

Pizzarolls -
we'll be
into Concentricity
in a byte...     Dad?, what

about Midvale?     Hey
Jeff, is that U.S. Idol
on the Plazma? oh,

DVD?  Hey, the
GPS says - wait, wait
I'm listening - ah, 
 
"Concentricity,
SSE, right-off of the
Superhighway 6."

 
     Dad?     Wait, wait, Bluetooth,
er your mother "...yes, yes...no
not ok...yeah, bye."

Hey, did'ja see that
blue Alienator blow-
by!?, here, I'll get It-

up on the Backtrack-
monitors...blowin'-by like
the MGibson R-

W...
I told
yous, remember?...this are the
good ol' ATV-

ATM
days - There!,
It's on Dropdown...Wow!...there's a
Class-D Forestor...
         
Dad?     Jeff, is the Big
Game on? Boy, whatta game! Boy,
we're cruisin' now...     Hey

Dad!     What, Jed?     There's the
Sign for Midvale...A Berry
Farm, an' blackberries,

too! Dad, can we...?     What,
Jed?     Well, I was, uh, thinkin'
about what you said...    

Said?     Yeah, about "smiles
of miles."     (Hey Jess, know what's the
definition of

High Definition
?
...C'mon, It's a game, girl, see?
Oke, "HD Wells!" Ha!)
    
...Did I say that?     Uh,
well, I think...I'll just watch the
scenery 'n stuff...
 
(oI oI oI oI)
"The Road Ahead/Lies
Ahead, Lies Ahead/The Road
Ahead, Lies Ahead..." (oI oI oI oI)

                                         H.e.m.
                                        11.20.MMviii.
                                        (Inconcinnus-Futurus)
 

                                                        ### 
 

H.E. Mantel has been published in print and online, including Ascent, Aspirations. Shampoo, Record Magazine, The Apocalyspe, A Hero's Jouney Anthology, Poetry Soup (Award), among others. Currently awaiting the publication of collections, "Bananas" on the Moon ... A  collection of Revisionist Haiku" and Sophistigates: A New Book of New Poetry.


Mantel is an avid reader, athlete, and devotee of holistic health through Vegan lifestyle. He currently resides in Florida.


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