If you’re new to AHC, I think you’ll like what you find there. I sure do. From their “About” page:
Anti-Heroin Chic is a collective journal of poetry, photography, art work, stories, essays, interviews and more. We currently publish on a somewhat rolling basis, featuring anywhere between a dozen to twenty new writers, photographers & artists every month, whose work can be found on our contributor blog page.
‘Anti-Heroin Chic’ meaning that what is beautiful is what is broken, that our imperfections, our exiles, our exclusions, are what define our humanity most, not the polished surface or the Instagram culture which encourages us to dissociate from who and how we truly are. There is a seat for everyone here at this table. The idea of the commune very much animates this project. This journal strives for inclusion and a diversity of voices, not to disparage others but to lift them up.
Many thanks to AHC editor-in-chief James Diaz for publishing my poem. Thanks also to fellow writers Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Jon Bennett, and Kim Bailey Spradlin, whose wonderful work I’ve gotten to know via Anti-Heroin Chic.
Photo: “Self-Portrait in Black and Blue” (LaGrange, Georgia – 4 August 2015)
I’m delighted to announce that I’ve got two new pieces, “In the Studio” (poem) and “Clearcut” (flash nonfiction), in the Spring 2017 issue of Sleipnir literary journal. Named for Norse god Odin’s fearsome eight-legged horse, Sleipnir strives to
…create a space for other crooked-smile clowns wandering away from the path of courtiers and kings, [and who are] burning the midnight oil to tell a story.
Yep. My kind of publication.
Editors Robin Andreasen and Liana Vrajitoru Andreasen teach English at South Texas College in McAllen, TX. They’re a dream to work with. Liana and Robin tell me that the next issue will feature fiction, poetry, and art about Texas. By all means, send them your Lone Star State-themed work!
The silence between icy wind and cedar branch,
and moonlight on sad ragged azaleas,
and the lone water oak missing its twin,
and the chickens’ worried dream-clucking,
and the audacity of blackberry winter when the earth is newly green,
and my grandmother’s gaudy orange cannas by the old water tank,
and her menthol-smoking ghost walking past them with a frown,
and whether she ever forgave herself,
and whether I can ever forgive myself.
The contents of this blog are not approved by my employer, nor do they represent my employer's opinions on any subject. The opinions expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. All names have been changed.