“Boys on Bikes”

Each Fall when the Wheel of the Year turns and the trees begin to change colors, I revisit my routine and once again swear to update my journal with more regularity. It’s been a roller coaster of a year, but I’m hoping to pick up the pace and finish several projects in the next few months…so hopefully, more blogging!

My poem, “Boys on Bikes” was published in Strange Horizons as part of their fund drive! After they reached their first pledge goal of $1500, my poem and Nin Harris’s new poem were both unlocked in the Fund Drive Special Issue, and you can read my poem inspired by the Grimm fairy tale of “The Six Swans” on their website here.

It’s also not too late to support Strange Horizons on Indiegogo! 4 more days!!!

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/strange-horizons-fund-drive-2017-magazine-fantasy#/

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Edited to add: It’s rare and welcome when a poem gets a review or press online, so a special thanks to Charles Payseur at Quick Sip Reviews for his review of “Boys on Bikes” and the other stories and poems of that Strange Horizons issue.

Payseur writes:

“This is a vaguely strange and rather gutting poem about a woman watching a group of boys ride their bikes through town. She watches, and the impression for me is that this is a moment out of time, relived for her or perhaps she is transported back to a day that she cannot forget, that she cannot escape. Perhaps it’s just a moment in a small town that she never left, that contains the same intersection where these boys met some fate that she never quite spells out. But I love the way the poem weaves this image, this mirage, this haunting. The way that it shows the woman much older, seeing in these boys something of the past, of a childhood that cannot be recaptured. They are the idea of summer, the carefree of being young and invulnerable. Immortal. And yet also so very mortal, as the poem implies. The piece really sells the feeling of being trapped in a moment, unable to look away, knowing that something is going to happen and yet hoping that it won’t. It evokes that moment in E.T. when the boys ride their bikes into the sky, only here it seems much more metaphor, an action that they could not do in life and now, in death, is the best that she can imagine for them. It’s wrenching because it reveals this person who seems to want nothing more than to join those boys, even knowing what happens, even having lived with it for so long. It shows the romantic vision the boys represented, the freedom and the innocence and the danger that was never real until it was, until that shattering moment when it was, and it’s just a hitting and visceral piece that you should definitely check out!”

What if the story of America is one long labor?

This is one of the most beautiful and powerful prayers from Sikh-American civil rights advocate and filmmaker Valarie Kaur.

“And so the mother in me asks, what if? What if this darkness is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb? What if our America is not dead, but a country that is waiting to be born? What if the story of America is one long labor? What if all of our grandfathers and grandmothers are standing behind us now—those who survived occupation and genocide, slavery and Jim Crow, detentions and political assault—what if they are whispering in our ear today, tonight “you are brave”? What if this is our nation’s great transition?

“What does the midwife tell us to do? Breathe. And then? push. Because if we don’t push we will die. If we don’t push, our nation will die. Tonight we will breathe. Tomorrow we will labor in love. Through love. And your revolutionary love is the magic we will show our children.”

  

https://youtu.be/9CbKjNWS864

Happy Coffee Day! For all my fellow coffeephiles…

The Caffeinated Week

by Valya Dudycz Lupescu

Monday’s cup is the darkest roast,

to battle with the weekend’s ghost.

Tuesday’s coffee is triple shot,

like dragons’ blood served boiling hot.

Wednesday’s coffee has extra bite—

Medusa’s venom, black as night.

Thursday is Turkish, mythic and rich,

coy in the cup, it will charm and bewitch.

Friday’s latte has a touch of the Fae,

full of anticipation and promise of play.

Saturday’s mocha is gratefully savored,

steamed with intrigue and brazenly flavored.

The French Press on Sunday is carefully timed—

short to steep, slow to drink, and soon left behind.

 

 

© 2016 Valya Dudycz Lupescu