Introduction to Silver Blade Poetry Issue 41
HUMAN: Native of Earth in the Sol System
tell me the reason for the theft
The Ghosts of Culloden: 1746
The Closing of St. Aloysius Hospital
The One Who Was Lost
About Silver Blade
Grand List of Fantasy Clichés
Write Well Blog
Issue 40 – Fall 2018
Issue 40 Poetry
Introduction to Silver Blade Poetry Issue 40
Please enjoy another group of talented poets for the November 2018 issue over the holidays
Tomorrow the Scarecrow
Nothing’s afraid of him. Look at the blue jay stealing his straw for the nest.
For The Man That Makes Me Smoke
I can’t see too far past my own broken nose without my glasses, but I know exactly who pulls up in the driveway, every night, same time.
Wild sea breeze on our skins, We carve your name in sand
From a dense blue jungle the seed from which I grew was transported by a wandering bird
The name you share with Zeus’s concubine
Escape from Zero
Our last star went out so long ago. The night sky misses her diamonds.
The last bird on Earth nudged her new dead chick. It had been so strong,
Issue 40 Stories
Silver Blade’s Fiction Editor
Alvin Burstein is a Professor Emeritus of Psychology at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville and a former member of the faculty at the New Orleans-Birmingham Psychoanalytic Center.
Zero Plus One
Peliru avoided the road and walked through the forest. The forest was faster and had less people. They were complicated, people. They said something but did the opposite. Humans especially.
The Monster Maker
Three travelers rode through the gates of Setan in the clear light of a bright spring morning, but a pall hung over that place as if a cloud had passed across the face of the sun.
I lived my life, alone, among men and rats in that filth-bearing nest they called a city. My father, a fool, had found his cold place in the earth when I was a child, and my mother, mind gone, soon followed.
The Last Word
My breakthrough in time travel in 2217 was predestined. So humanity claimed.
A Color Called Immensity
She is led into the capsule: her new workspace, and inside is her old cherry wood desk, her bifocals, the day’s rations. Beyond the desk winks a concave window of soundproof glass...