Mike Maggio

"Leviathan (Dark Dreams) 


If you could see behind these eyes 
This is not some fairy tale 
About a man's mind  lost at  sea 
Outwitted by a great white whale  

A harpoon's line twisted the frail 
shattered leg above the knee 
he found himself (among the waves 
that bite was clean from that  muscled knave 

One hundred throws, decades would pass 
The ships would heave, men breathed their last 
The great leviathan would sound and breach 
that storied beast, beyond their bloody reach 

Sailing 'round Chilean grounds 
Their fears unsaid 
Ships forged a head 
and the sea turned red 
Filled their Yankee heads 
with dark dreams 

He'd sound and breach 
their wails and woes 
The captain pulled his three-draw glass
the man aloft cried "There she blows." 
Then a lucky wind would fill their masts 

Two points on the weather bow 
Three were seen, one with child 
A newborn calf, born just now 
the great white whale would stand his ground 

He'd seen it all before 
whaling boats and their frenzied speed 
 blooded oars swung high then deep 
he'd plunge below and rise the Beast

He weathered  nineteen blows 
His two loved ones safely below 
A crimson tide, foes traded blows 
The great white whale was slain, then stowed 
The men grew quiet for the seed they'd sown 

His body held in a hundred casks 
heading toward Nantucket Sound 
Sea rovers, soon home at last 
With oil aplenty to light their lamps 

Sailing 'round Chilean grounds 
Their fears unsaid 
Ships forged a head 
and the sea turned red 
Filled their Yankee heads 
with dark dreams 

So, if you could see behind these eyes
This is not some fairy tale
About a man's mind lost at sea 
Outwitted by a great white whale  


Copyright) Rick Landers 2021

Rick Landers is a multi-award winning singer-songwriter, author, and poet who publishes, Guitar International magazine (2004 – 2024). He and his band, Heartland, perform at house concerts, music festivals, and DMV venues. He holds a Bachelor of Science degree and a Masters degree in Public Administration. As a retired federal employee, he served as the Deputy Assistant Inspector General (Communications) with the Office of the Inspector General, Department of Defense.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

Truism

I am sleeping lightly
on a Sunday afternoon
vague jazz on the radio
with a world drum beat.

I drift, in content calm
into deepening darkness
A low voice beckons me
"What is your name?"

"I'm Kunta Kinte, an
American from The Bronx" I say.

I sense a looming circle
around me of others, intent
in stare, grim in outlook.

"No," the voice warns "your
name is Smith, Winston Smith."

"My name is Kunta" I start,
"No, your name is Winston Smith;
you live in Oceania. Say it."

"I was born in Virginia" I say, adding
"I now live in The Bronx."

"Your name is Winston Smith;
you live in Oceania. SAY IT!"

The circle is closing, surrounding.
"SAY IT!" rasps the voice.

"I'm a reasonable man."

"I work for The Truth Ministry" I say.
"I AM The Truth!" growls reply.

"Who are you?

Dave Lego lives on the coast of Oceania and dreams of national mediocrity, that being a step up from the current state of affairs…no, seriously. 🤨

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

LUCID

All the 
slip, lift, and fall, wood stove grunt 
or cat filled door, full mouth rot 
and smoke again, can’t find class, 
can’t find clothes, can’t find report, 
can’t dive into the ink bottle shrink, 
electric shock on a chain link fence, 
train to car to bike to crawl, 
can’t find a bathroom, broken bathroom, 
no walls bathroom, not a bathroom, 
breath-stopped float to powerline sky, 
white box truck and run 

Not fun, but fine,
                              but then
 
there’s the one that’s not scary.
But I realize it’s a dream. 
And I want to wake up. 
But I can’t. 
So I scream. 

                    and torn through
screen of med-thick weight I closed-
mouth real-shriek, to scare him wide, 
so he shakes me, saves me, asks again 
why, and ______ _ __  _   _      _

Copyright 2024 by Kate Powell Shine (Katherine Shine)

Kate Powell Shine (she/her) is active in numerous local literary communities including those at Montgomery College, Montgomery County Public Libraries, and the Eastern Shore Writers Association. She lives in Montgomery Village with her husband, John.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

Maskless in Dallas, A Dream from 2020

My parents are riding a tour bus
past mansions, universities,
museums of the last Old Masters.
They visit a historic house
that is smaller and not quite as old
as the ones back East.

My parents avoid downtown,
Dealy Plaza, the crystal skyscrapers
on postcards, the grassy knoll,
the place where my mother says
everything went wrong.

Having overslept yet again, I wander
the aisles of a Barnes and Noble
that magically expands to an art gallery,
a toy store, a supermarket, all
without selling the book I want,
nature writing set in the hill country,
all that I will miss on the flight home.

Without that book, I walk out
to the shores of an artificial lake
large enough to be an ocean
with saltwater taffy and a Cyclone
at the end of the boardwalk.

I walk past the bare-chested men
and high-heeled women
who clog this path,
singing, spitting, swigging
beer from brown bottles.

I wake up gasping.


Copyright 2024 by Marianne Szlyk

A version of this poem appeared as “Maskless in Dallas” in Mad Swirl. 

Marianne Szlyk’s poems have appeared in Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Verse-Virtual, Poetry X Hunger, Poetry Breakfast, Verse-Virtual, McQueen’s Quinterly, and One Art. Her books Why We Never Visited the Elms, On the Other Side of the Window, and I Dream of Empathy are available from Amazon and Bookshop. Her poems have also been translated into Polish, Italian, and Cherokee. Her short stories have appeared in Impspired and Mad Swirl. She and her husband, the wry poet and flash fiction writer Ethan Goffman, now live in the Washington, DC area with their black cat Tyler.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

Mirror

in the other-world of dreams
death is birth
love returns and
standing still
one flies
 
pain is pleasure
sadness 
beckons joy 
and
grief is 
an endless 
celebration ...
 
is it 
any wonder then
that
waking
i dream 
of dreams?

Copyright 2924 by Rich Follett

Rich Follett, the Poet Laureate of Strasburg, VA, has authored Responsorials (with Constance Stadler, 2009), Silence, Inhabited (2011), Human &c. (2013), and Geminations (with Constance Stadler, 2023) through NeoPoesis Press, and Photo-Ku (2016) through NightWing Publications. Rich is featured in the ODU Virginia Poets Database at https://digitalcommons.odu.edu/virginiapoets. Information and publications at www.richfollett.com.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

The Earth, Sea, Ripe Fruit

The field is parched and cracked
August angry cornstalks
splitting open the earth’s maw
merciless blue sky
but we swim in a grey angry sea
the roar of the surf in our ears like sirens
the seagulls mock us in the chill air
my ex-husband now swims in front of me
wearing a scuba mask
I want to don my mask too
but I am worried about losing
my $600 progressive glasses
or being pulled out to sea by the undertow
I drive my red Prius across the field
the Earth’s maw wants to eat it.
You are coming over tonight
we will kiss on my sofa
until our lips
are swollen
like ripe bruised fruit.

Copyright 2024 by Susan Notar

Susan Notar is a Pushcart prize nominated poet.  She has flown over Iraq wearing body armor and makes a mean beurre blanc sauce.  Her work has appeared in numerous publications including Artemis, Burningword, Burgeon, the Bridgeville Review, the Forgotten River, Joys of the Table, Alianza Latina Antolgia de Poemas, and Written in Arlington,.  She works at the U.S. Department of Justice helping victims of terrorist attacks.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

Beyond Understanding


Abandonment mingles with pain
when my two friends suddenly disappear
without sharing with me their plans.
My pace, deliberate. Theirs, too fast.
They’re visible ahead but I can’t catch up. 

While climbing the stairs, someone pushes
hard into my back because I am too slow.
During this unusually turbulent moment,
I turn and boot his abdomen, hard—
leaving him the one falling behind.

The aches in my back, hip, now foot, pale 
only to feeling discomfort with my reflex.
Apparently beyond control, violent kicking 
entered my lexicon of acceptable behavior.
I proceed victorious...and diminished.

Turning the other cheek gains new meaning
while pains from my earlier 8-mile walk
stab their presence, head to butt to toe.
With eyes closed wide open, I thrash about,
encounter sketchy strangers along my way.

One offers candy. Another, a flirty compliment.
A third offers delayed assistance, more time
for me to wait, unsure of the outcome,
unsure of the place being right, in this
arcade of performers on revolving stages.

Finally, one of my friends sees me,
hands me my ticket, turns, speeds off
leaving me frowning—amidst a crowd
of intermission-mingling smiles—
forced to ask an usher for assistance.

I finally reach my seat next to theirs.
No apologies offered. No guilt espied.
Comfortable in their own skins, it seems
they would do it all over again.—And me?
Still asleep, struggling to interpret this dream.


Copyright 2024 by Joy Martin 

Joy’s writings have been published in Muddy River Poetry Review, Midway Journal, Radical Teacher Journal, Ibbetson Street Press, Josie’s Trunk, and Blended Voices.  She serves on the board of the New England Poetry Club and is a member of The Poetry Society of Virginia and Newton Poetry.  Her poems explore multitudinous facets of life, including her and broader humanity’s place and challenges within it.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

The building is wide and tall
and tension crawls along.
 
Discarded objects
lay all around, neglected,
 
hitting my eyes and thoughts
as if forgotten ages.
 
I go – a moving walkway
leads me forward, unwilling.
 
I walk through the dark cellars,
a long, underground corridor.
 
Dozens of doors are waiting:
they sleep as I go by.
 
I expect the abandoned ones,
the lost people of my life,
 
to jump out of a room
as if we’d never lost sight,
 
to show up for a while
for a greeting or chatter.
 
Suddenly everything is crowded:
I’m there, in an old theater,
 
sitting comfortably desperate,
next to a once-cherished face
 
that faded a longtime ago.

Copyright 2024 by Mario Badino

Mario Badino lives in Italy, where he teaches Italian in middle school. He is the author of three books of poetry (“Cianfrusaglia”, “Barricate!” and “Santificare le feste”) and he’s a member of the poetic collective SlammalS, that promotes spoken-word poetry in Southern Italy. The first poems he’s not ashamed of date back to 2000, and were part of the art installation “Stanze per un improbabile paesaggio”, created together with the photographer Paolo Rey. You can read more about him on his web site cianfrusaglia.wordpress.com.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

Tornado
    a destructive vortex of violent rotating winds

Outside is bright
with grey green light.
Sky is black with 
mountains of clouds.

A siren pierces
like an arrow of sound
dissolves in thick air.

Pressure pounds -- blood,
skin, even hair feels it.
Something might explode.

There is a gathering.
Feel it pull towards center,
push air out of your lungs.

Something moves
something else follows
forces are building.

Center yourself.
Gather around center.

Breathe.

Feel the building forces.
Your head begins to spin.

Breathe.

An alarm sounds.
Your alarm sounds.

Open your eyes and see
the spinning forces that live
in the black center there.

Copyright 2024 by Susan Scheid

Susan Scheid is a poet and literary activist who lives in Washington, DC with her family and their two cats.  Susan honed her craft while working for the last 30 years as a Legal Secretary.  She was inspired by her father reading poems to her at bedtime and by stories of him reading poetry to his fellow wounded soldiers in medical hospitals during WWII.  Her first book, After Enchantment, was influenced by her love of fairy tales.  Susan’s poetry has also appeared in a number of literary journals, in the chapbook anthology, Poetic Art,and the anthology, Enchantment of the Ordinary. Her book, True Blue, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. As a former Board member for Split This Rock she helped bring poetry and activism to thousands of people. 

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review

THE RESORT (a recurring dream)


Come in and sit down in the coffee-stain brown
conference room of the hotel in paradise. Welcome!
This won’t take too long.

Out the window you see the beach that you came for,
the sparkling blue topaz you’ll soon be immersed in
as soon as we’re finished.

This shouldn’t take long. Yes: the room’s rather dark
and smells of stale donuts and Sterno. Outside, just imagine:
like fresh sea and jasmine.

You’ll be out there soon. This shouldn’t take long.
The presentation is part of what you agreed to.
You’re here for one day, so

we’ll try to go quickly. Please open your binders.
(I must take this call. I’ll be back in a minute.)
Just look at that ocean:

Just think of that feeling, warm sea on your skin, that’s so
tired from traveling. The A/C’s not working;
The workman comes Monday.

By then you’ll have left us. I won’t be a moment.
Page one of your binders: A brief presentation,
and then we’ll release you

to fresh air and music, to sun and clear ocean — 
It’s right there before you but we cannot let you
until we have finished

this quick presentation, 100-page binder
our first of five speakers explaining our business.
The bright sun is dimming.

The beach slowly empties. We know you’re impatient.
You’re leaving tomorrow. We’ll start in a moment.
This shouldn’t take long.

Copyright 2024 by Jennifer Keith

Jennifer Keith plays bass for the rock band Batworth Stone. Her poems have appeared in The Free State Review, Alan Squire Bulletin, Best American Poetry 2015, and elsewhere. Her first full-length poetry collection, Terminarch, won the 2023 Able Muse Book Award. She lives in Baltimore, Maryland.

30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review