Following a (seemingly) incredible long hiatus during which I was doing my first two years as a teacher, I am back! And just in time for the publication of one of my old stories, and one I’m particularly partial to, “Bud Powell, Composed in Four Elements”. It’s weird as hell and just posted at Big Lucks magazine. Hope you fine folks enjoy it. Here is a cool album cover, while you’re at it.
Hello old pals! It has been a long time since the last one of these. I am now a first-year English teacher and the publishing game has perceptibly slipped! Summer is coming soon, and I will be back on the horse. Here’s an oldish one that just came out in this month’s Rotary Dial. About Donald Rumsfeld. Kind of. You can get it here for a mere buck.
Also, as always, I love Canada. Thanks Canada
Beautiful day! Thanksgiving almost! Here’s a slim ornithological poem! Thanks! 584.
Enjoy the lovely cover art by Laurence Holden:
Head to sakurareview.com to pick up a print copy of the latest issue, which features a little unmetred sonnet I wrote about a dark windy night. Mmm.
New poem just went up as part of Lime Hawk‘s sixth issue. This one is dedicated to the Metropolitan Transit Authority. Over and out.
![Issue [6]](https://owenlucaspoems.files.wordpress.com/2015/08/055ea-stephen_linsteadt-unknown_woman_with_bees.jpg?w=295&h=391)
This ‘un came out last month, chickadees: link. Thanks to the kind people at Pidgeonholes for publishing it. Props also to them for keeping archaic ways of spelling alive.
Another quick one just flew up at Queen Mobs: link. Even includes a tiny interview at the bottom.
Hello all! It’s summer today, and here‘s a summer evening poem written some years ago when I was waiting to come to America. Kathleen my lovely wife donated one of her photographs to the effort. Incidentally, you can find more of her work, and even procure her services for weddings, family shoots and more at parenthesisphotography.com. Isn’t that cool. More coming in the next day or so. Buenas tardes!
I have the good fortune to have encountered indulgent editors in Really System; they just published the longest poem I’ve yet had in print. It’s actually something I wrote for my brother, as an attempt to rehash a theatre piece we were working on. The subject was a gloomy, old-man Alexander the Great, transplanted into a gloomy, old-man seaside town in the south of England. In the original incarnation, Alexander is swallowed by an apocalyptic storm. In this version, which I wrote in verse, the apocalypse is more in his mind than in reality.
owen lucas 