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Bateau co-founder/editor James Grinwis co-founder/managing editor Ashley Schaffer contributing editors Lynette Baker Kristin Bock Carrie Comer Corwin Ericson Elizabeth Hughey Daniel Mahoney David Roderick Karen Skolfield Andrew Varnon


BATEAU is published annually. Submissions read year round with the exception of June, July, and August. We consider poetry, flash fiction, playlets, flash nonfiction, comics, graphic narratives, and illustration. We prefer electronic submissions. individuals - $15 libraries/institutions - $30 postage additional. we ship worldwide. All inquiries: info@bateaupress.org Bateau Press POB 1584 Northampton, MA 01061 www.bateaupress.org Š 2013 Bateau Press All Rights Reserved Published in the United States by Bateau Press. Typeset in Arno Pro. The Bateau Press office is run on the renewable energies of hydro and wind power. BATEAU is printed on Mohawk Options, 100% PC White which is made from100% postconsumer waste fiber and is manufactured using windpower. BATEAU is printed with soy inks. Covers printed with soy ink using letterpress technology from a photopolymer plate. The cover paper is 100% recycled. Cover design and letterpress printing by Shelter Bookworks. www.shelterbookworks.com ISSN 1942-0188


Note f rom the Editors

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Josh B ett inger How to Destroy a City Family Portrait Calenture

8 9 10

Matt A nderson Bike Bugs

11

Hol l y A mos find a broken phone & lick the receiver

12

Julie Bab co ck The Cough

14

Leona Sev ick Dog

15

Maya Malachow sk i Bajak Bridge

17

Mar ia Adelmann Aftermath: Sleeping Beauty Aftermath: Little Red Riding Hood Aftermath: Snow White

18 19 21

Chel sea W hitton The Tiger

22

Shota Iatashv i li Motion

24

Matt A nderson Birdhouse

28


29 30

Tom A ndes Sonnet Sonnet

31

C.J. Sage Manifesto

34

Matt A nderson Bump O Sandwich

35

D.E . Stew ard Noviembro

39

Jenn Mar ie Nunes Girl Loves a Pony

41

Cur t i s Perdue Portrait of an Aubade

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Hugh B ehm- Steinb erg Consensus of Building Materials

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Matt A nderson Winner

44

Brent A r mendinger The Frequencies

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K athar ine Coles Less to See, More to Fear

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Maya Malachow sk i Bajak Crane

49

B enny A ndersen Spirit


The Difficult Cousin Sleepyhead

51 55

Mi ke Do ck ins Brief Bio The House That’s Always on Fire

59 60

Megan Gar r Exit The leaf turned, said, Here is the star map

61 62

Vic tor ia K limaj When Removed from it’s Pulp

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Matt A nderson Falcon

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Marc Harshman Consolation

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A ndrew K ozma Heaven and Earth Lobster on a String

66 67

A ndrew Bales Jellyfish

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Sara Lef sy k Last Night I Dreamt All My Life I’ve Been Dragging

71 72

To m a ž Ša l a m u n Tsar Nikolaj Comida Corrida Toof Toof: the Arc No Jokes in Love

73 75 77 79


Matt A nderson 81 Watchbird James Hef lin 82 Light Speed Li sa O r t i z 84 The Ventriloquist’s Heart 85 Acre Matt A nderson 86 City Nest George Lo one y 87 Meditation Through a Neon Circle Michael Bazzett 89 So A ndrew Ter hune 92 Harrison Ford 94 John Belushi (previously published by the West Wind Review) 95 Albert Finney Dav id Wojc iechow sk i 96 Dear Gary, 97 Dear Evie, 98 Dear Patty, Matt A nderson 99 Droplights K at Sanche z 100 Dress Up


É i rea n n L o r s u n g Carrier (standing woman carrying wolf)

103

A nthony Madr id Inchworm Over and Over

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Glen A r mstrong Centennial

106

Caitlin Bai le y All You Can Do is Imagine the Leaving

107

Maya Malachow sk i Bajak Watertower

108

Car rol l B eauv ai s Ryan’s Steakhouse

109

R achel Lev y Bread Parakeet

110 111

Carol y n Hembree Quantum Mechanical Eyecandy

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El i z a R o tte r m a n To gallop finally into the Milky Way

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Ca ro l i n e Ca b re r a Sweet Swing

115

A n d re w Mi c h ae l R o b e r t s for the girl in the dress made of flies flip book of the dead

118 119


Matt A n d e r s o n 120 Rock Vulture R ich Ives 122 Several Discrepancies Have Been Noted, Mr Ives... Daniel Mahone y 124 Doomdrone. Darkgaze. Artcore. 127 contr i butor notes


Note from Editors Patience. Patience is said to be a virtue. A gift. But when your expectations are aware of the horizon, patience can become a pain in the ass. You want what you want. You can’t help yourself. And so it goes with this, our volume number 5. Many things have changed with this installment. Bateau is now an annual. We have more work packed into our pages. We have color! We have an entire year to publish one amazing magazine. An entire year. In the blink of lashes, it comes and goes. We have mutated, communicated, flown, sunk, had faith, been abandoned, and are still surging. Our book bindings are more creased. We are carrying new conditions with us as we permute around our sun. Volume 5 is a kind of breath. A pining and permitting. A thing that gives you patience when you can’t come up with it. A gift that eases a gift. Thanks. —The Editors


Josh Bettinger How to Destroy a City

for Maria Lasater née Furtado

      The shadow of the dog on the sidewalk while driving home is no longer the shadow of the dog on the sidewalk while driving home, as beasts of penumbra slink from view—not a new thing. Now it’s the memory of poorly dressed lovers falling from sight as their names refuse to accept the convention of names. They fade, lost & ugly. As are we in the growing moments of chance, misguided as it is, & the swinging doors that put us there cackle. I am watching the dog evaporate as I weep into a photo of the dog evaporating & that is where the blustered wind bites, shivering , a whole coast trying so desperately to crap itself into significance, while unknown to the world the entire world continues to crap itself into the slim chorus of disavowing that margin— my hand moving slowly as it turns out the light, a famous mistake plying itself with absence & the sweet smell of our communal letting go. That’s where we move, dumbly, through the open places that offer us holes as alms.

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Bettinger


Katharine Coles Less to See, More to Fear

Bat Cave Temple, Bali; Sydney Botanical Gardens

1. Through gates and pavilions, under The elaborate architecture of human attention Carved with bats and snake gods’ open maws, The actual bats, millions, tuck themselves in To sleep this too-bright afternoon away, until Luminous dark opens to their humming. The cave opens the sacred mountain, Miles into its heart, a ravenous dream you could enter, slipping Under drowsing shadows, through guano stink, Past the real python, huge, unlidding Chilly eyes to yawn, jaw unhinged, Tongue tasting you, that hiss of pleasure, and feel the mountain’s whole weight—

(2. Here, the stench recalls them—flying foxes Hung high in open treetops. Fox-sized Bodies rolled into wings so orange I mistook them For huge, stinking fruit, until one peeled Himself open—) Coles

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Mike Dockins Brief Bio Mike Dockins was conceived in a chicken-wire box slanting toward Saturn. In 1980 his eyeballs swelled to globes, each iris sloping like the Yucatán. While other boys were smooching Melissa Rose, he was wetting the bed, one hand snug inside a centerfielder’s mitt. He oversleeps oversleeping—arising a full day behind—so there is no such thing as news. He composes for subway trains & ballgames, a tireless album of clacking & cheers. In 1996 he built a pet-supply warehouse from bile & broken clocks, tail-finned though aquarium hangovers. He balanced a pouch of catnip in each lung because there was little else to do. The depth of evening sighs bounced back in sonar. Beer cans split open like protons. In 1945 half of his DNA was swimming in a wartime womb. The other half romped through Alexandria, each helix whipping the Milky Way to a sublime spin. It’s still going. He has claimed Melissa Rose is a fiction. As trilobites gulped across Paleozoic ferns, the planet was turning helplessly toward him. In 1971 he arranged his quarks into neat rows & columns, a pattern for solitaire. Forty weeks later he popped a balloon, began filling another—the universe expanding away on every side. He’s currently tying this balloon to a pine branch lest it rise out of reach of Melissa Rose: her fictive lips, her fictive tennis shoes. In 1978 his lungs bloomed into lenses. A telescope soon sprouted from his chest & swallowed Melissa Rose. She tumbled down the shaft, busted her ankle on the reflective mirror. She’s still there, peering across ribs she thinks are stars….

Dockins

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Sara Lefsyk Last Night I Dreamt I was an intricate barricade in the house of a flying bird. Kant was a ferocious glass skylark and all the little golden lemons were hanging over our heads. But the Messiah was false as were the tablecloths. And it didn’t take a genius to figure that Kant knew only the love of kitchen utensils and sheet music because when a beautiful woman walked by “I understand the loneliness of a creator among beehives” is all he ever said. And because all of life happens under her dress, I took mine off and asked Kant to read the astronomy of my pelvis but he couldn’t find a word in him, only a paper doll, which he pulled from his pocket and handed over to me. On some other nights, an old man sleeps beside me, but only in his dreams so that, when we wake, we no longer have the ceiling above nor the floor beneath. Meanwhile, the Socialist Party is carving the likeness of various astronomical distances out of the walls, ceilings, and floorboards

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Lefsyk


Lisa Ortiz The Ventriloquist’s Heart At dinner (candles, wine, people) I lean in close. I say: The ventriloquist’s heart has eight chambers. His blood lurches from one to the other. I am trying to explain to you exactly how I feel. You say: let’s go home. In the car, I hear clapping and an audience roaring with laughter. I follow you upstairs. Beneath my sequined top I hide a run-down hall: no cover, two drink minimum, jokes all night. But now the spot light softens. It’s sad–– we all know inside the doll are nothing but fingers, a voice tossed the length of an arm. The marquis lights go out. I get dressed beside an open window. Even naked I hold a suitcase of secrets. You watch me but say nothing. His heart is too large, blood enough for the two of them. At night he brings his hands together and weeps.

Ortiz

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Michael Bazzett So When you die you end up in a room. Apparently, many people know this. The question, then, is whether this is a waiting room or a destination and why the woman behind the desk is full of smiles. The complimentary coffee is richly brewed and stands beside a small pitcher brimming with cream, the croissants flake away in golden leaves, apparently purchased that very morning. It occurs to you then that it may have been morning for a very long time. You reach for the reading material, thinking you might find a mailing label 90

Bazzett


to ascertain an address, but the space is blank. The journals hold essays that make you feel better about yourself for having read them. Someone has made certain assumptions about the clientele here and you think this is the sort of place you would like to have your oil changed. When at a certain point everyone begins to remove their clothes, revealing thick pelts of fur where you anticipated skin, only their pale abdomens remain naked. You feel chagrined knowing what lies beneath your own rumpled clothing. The woman at the desk nonetheless insists that you disrobe, using hand gestures and again that disarming smile. As you fumble at the buttons it seems Bazzett

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your fingers no longer belong to you. The woman steps out to assist and you immediately understand that she is the caretaker here so when your clothes fall away at last the pelt beneath is golden brown with lightly dappled camouflage. You are welcome, she says, gesturing to where daylight has burst through the pocked and crumbling walls and the warm air feels like breath upon your face as you bound across the open fields, amazed.

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Bazzett


Éireann Lorsung Carrier (standing woman carrying wolf ) after Kiki Smith She was preaching no sermon except the one that goes love thyself, sinner, and love them animals, the ones running past you in the night when you can hardly breathe their fur gets so close and all you want to do is pass out so you don’t remember how good they smell and if you want to be one.

Lorsung

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Daniel Mahoney Doomdrone. Darkgaze. Artcore. Locrian & Mamiffer Bless Them That Curse You Profound Lore Records March 2012 Back in the day I saw Neurosis. And I was terrified. The music was slow and heavy, a massive mix of intense chord progressions and rumbling dronescape slowed to an omnicrawl. It was low turned, roasted, dark, and dirgey. It defied easy labels. I could roll with the sludge of the Melvins, the glee of Anal Cunt and the sonic hate-mewl of Whitehouse. I could do extreme music because I thought I was extreme: a twenty something blasĂŠ badass at the top of his game. But Neurosis was worlds away from blasĂŠ. They were present, and they were serious. Fucking serious. They played unaware of anyone or anything around them, like they were in a darktrace beyond human motion and emotion. The show was a sludgful, sorrowfilled, aggressive celebration of doomdrone. I felt gutshot, bleeding out, thirsty as a drowning corpse. A lot has gone down since then; specifically: Earth, Corrupted, Electric Wizard, Ahab, Giant Squid, Bloody Panda, Pig Destroyer, Cathedral, YOB, Burning Witch, Sleep, Goatsblood, Corrupted, Esoteric, Sunn 0))), Nadja and this new collaboration between experimental chamber-doom pioneers Mamiffer and the doomdrone artcore outfit Locrian entitled, Bless Them That Curse You. Music critics will say: Bless Them That Curse You is the bejeweled music box playing at the orphan-house firestorm. Bless Them That Curse You places a red candle on the marble altar of mutilated he-goats. Mahoney

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Bless Them That Curse You reinstates the circular tubing. Bless Them That Curse You is a shamble of slaughterhouses at the periphery of our communal existence. Bless Them That Curse You is: Exquisite! Infused! Inspired! Awesome! Each track on the album is bigger than it appears to be…by “bigger” I mean larger in dimensional scope and expansive dark energy. It’s music beyond music, a sort of ominous quixoticore for regional legions sick of witch house and Icelandic dark trance. Take, for example, how the mythic territory of “In Fulmic Blaze” is fully realized not in the footnotes but in the metal salvage yard where birds descend ravenous at noon, their whiteblack wings expand knifefightlike in the highsun turning circles. Out passed the chemical swamp and chum of metal on metal lurks a gradual unfold of malignant hyperballad strangely distilled in psychedelic guitar strums (similar to the psychfolk watersound that 70s bands once circled upon before their entire scene became way more interesting /Japanese). The guitar and metal rending sounds carry on in muted conversations of background noise and we wonder if this is all there is, this simple cistern-centric folkdoom ditty. But midway through, the chug and drive arrive and we are slowly taken through portals of proto-motorcymbal skree, infinite sweeps of riff, and electric slowbuild into epic swirls of illumined crescendocore. Stunning! Another standout track is the piano infused “Corpus Luteum,” a stunning example of muted tremorcore and whirring chamberdrift. It has this spaced out George Winston but not George Winston quality to it. More like a recording of George Winston playing on the Hi-Fi while the real George Winston is ripped apart by a rabid pack of howler monkeys. (Chamberdrift is nothing if not a comment on presence and absence… like the presence of absence of George Winston’s manservant who might discover his master’s shredded body and remark, None of this makes any sense. Howler monkeys left the island years ago). Lute then joins piano in an unhinged echodrift wavering inversely in the darkened estuaries until 124

Mahoney


sound stretches out over cool abysses in flecks of barely there muted feedback that slowly dissolve into nitrogen bubbles rising through swamps of liken and abandoned bedsprings. Bless Them That Curse You is like a collection of images stored in crumbling cardboard boxes by a heartsick artdoctor who photoed autopsies for a project he never completed. The music unfolds in multiple polymorphic roadburn sketches, in knifecut skinflaps, in emptied carnal cavities. Like the best of doomdrone, the tension in these songs is a product of countervailing full and empty sprawl and low level hum. In liminal spectral iterations, in margins not immune to ruin, in the vanished who outnumber us, in profane glows, Mamiffer and Locrian have crafted themselves a minor masterpiece. Bless Them That Curse You leaves its listeners chaste, enthralled, battered, ravished.

Mahoney

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contributors Maria Adelmann spends most of her time doing craft projects. She writes poetry, nonfiction, and screenplays. She recently graduated from the MFA program at The University of Virginia. Holly Amos received her MFA from Columbia College Chicago. She is the Poetry Foundation Library Assistant and the Social Media Intern at Wave Books. Her poems have appeared in A cappella Zoo, Bateau, Columbia Poetry Review, Phantom Limb, Pinwheel and RHINO, and a chapbook is forthcoming from H_NGM_N Books. Benny Andersen is the foremost living poet in Denmark. His works are renowned for their humor, expressionistic wordplay and colloquial depth. He has won an avalanche of honors including the Danish National Arts award for lifelong achievement. Now 82, he continues to write and perform to sold-out audiences in Denmark. Drawing is a rewarding medium.  Its immediacy and intimacy help us to believe it is telling the truth, like simple wisdom from a soft spoken sage.  In the drawings of Matthew Anderson, you will find soft spoken absurdities that, with a joke or anecdote, speak the truth.  Their truth is cumulative, like sediment, so be patient. Tom Andes’ writing has recently or will soon appear in Harp and Altar, Housefire, and the Rumpus, among other publications, and was anthologized in Best American Mystery Stories 2012. Cannibal Books produced a hand-sewn chapbook, Life Before the Storm and Other Stories, in 2010. He lives in New Orleans, Louisiana. Brent Armendinger is the author of two chapbooks, Undetectable (New Michigan Press) and Archipelago (Noemi Press). His work has recently appeared in Court Green, Denver Quarterly, LIT, Puerto del Sol, Volt, and Web Conjunctions. He lives in Los Angeles and teaches creative writing at Pitzer College.  Glen Armstrong’s recent poems have appeared in Conduit, Cloudbank and Juked.  He teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan and co-edits Cruel Garters. Julie Babcock ’s recent poetry appears or is forthcoming in various publications including Plume, The Bakery, Sou’wester, The Journal, Gargoyle, and PANK. She is a lecturer at University of Michigan. Maya Malachowski Bajak received a B.A from Oberlin College in Latin American Studies and Studio Art. Maya’s work expresses liminal spaces: the evolution of habi-

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tats, the architecture of fading human progress and environmental degradation. Maya works out of Zea Mays Printmaking in Florence MA. To see more of her work visit, www.mayambajak.com Caitlin Bailey is a 2012 assistant poetry editor for Water~Stone Review. Her work has previously appeared in or is forthcoming from Lumina, Poetry City, USA, Vol. 2, and elsewhere. She is learning to live in the woods after many years in the city. Andres Bales’ stories have appeared in Juked, New Delta Review, Midwestern Gothic, NANO Fiction, Johnny America, and elsewhere. He’s received second-place in Glimmer Train’s Short Story Award for New Writers and has been a Tennessee Williams Scholar at the Sewanee Writers’ Conference. Michael Bazzett has new poems forthcoming in Cream City Review, Massachusetts Review, Pleiades, Literary Imagination and Prairie Schooner. His chapbook, The Imaginary City, was recently published in the OW! Arts Chapbook Series, and They: A Field Guide is forthcoming from Barge Press in early 2013.  He lives in Minneapolis with his wife and two children. Carroll Beauvais is a 2012 “Discovery”/Boston Review Semi-Finalist. Her work has appeared in The Collagist, Dark Sky Magazine, and elsewhere. A graduate of Syracuse University’s MFA program, she lives and teaches in New Orleans, LA. Hugh Behm-Steinberg is the author of two books of poetry, Shy Green Fields (No Tell Books) and The Opposite of Work (JackLeg Press, forthcoming December 2012).  His poems can be found online at such places as foam:e, decomP, Diode, On Barcelona, Thrush, em, Otoliths, anti- and Nap.  He teaches writing at California College of the Arts in San Francisco, where he edits the journal Eleven Eleven. A graphic artist, film producer, poet and editor, Josh Bettinger’s work has appeared in, or is forthcoming from, journals in the United States, England, and Canada including Oxford Poetry, Thin Air, Western Humanities Review, The Los Angeles Review, Fourteen Hills and Vallum. He has an MFA from Columbia and resides in San Francisco. Caroline Cabrera is the author of Flood Bloom, forthcoming from H_NGM_N Books, and the chapbook, Dear Sensitive Beard, forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press.  Her poems have appeared or will appear in Conduit, The Denver Quarterly, Inter|rupture, Jellyfish, and Salt Hill, among others.  She lives in South Florida. Katharine Coles ’ fifth poetry collection, The Earth Is Not Flat (Red Hen 2013), was

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written under the auspices of the NSF’s Antarctic Artists and Writers Program. In 2009-10, she served as the Inaugural Director of the Poetry Foundation’s Harriet Monroe Poetry Institute. She is a Guggenheim Foundation Fellow for 2012-13. Mike Dockins’ first book of poems, Slouching in the Path of a Comet (Sage Hill Press 2007), is anticipating a third print run. Most days, Mike enjoys his doctor status by skulking about Brooklyn’s Cobble Hill or Facebook-stalking you. Megan Garr is an American poet and the founder and editor of the literary and art journal Versal. Recent publications include Trickhouse, A Megaphone, Lungfull!, VLAK and Caketrain. Her chapbook The Preservationist Documents is forthcoming from Pilot Books. Dalila Gogia, born in Tbilisi, Republic of Georgia, finished Georgian State Technical University with a MA in chemistry, and then a Masters of English Literature at Georgian State University of Western Languages and Cultures. She has translated the poems and prose of many writers into Georgian. Michael Goldman taught himself Danish over 25 years ago to help him win the heart of a lovely Danish girl—and they have been married ever since. Now he has found another use for his love of language--to bring across the Atlantic another Danish treasure: the poetry of Benny Andersen. Marc Harshman’s chapbooks include Rose of Sharon (Mad River Press, 1999). Periodical publications include Shenandoah, The Georgia Review, The Progressive, and Tuesday: An Arts Journal.  Poems anthologized by Kent State University, University of Iowa, University of Georgia, and University of Arizona. Short prose has recently been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.  His eleven children’s books include The Storm, a Smithsonian Notable Book. James Heflin’s work has appeared in Ploughshares, Poetry Ireland Review, Conduit, Anti-, Parcel and other journals. He is arts editor of an alt-weekly newspaper in western Massachusetts and a Massachusetts Cultural Council grant recipient. Carolyn Hembree’s debut collection, Skinny, was recently published by Kore Press. Individual poems have appeared in Colorado Review, DIAGRAM, Gulf Coast, Indiana Review, jubilat, and Witness, among other journals and anthologies. Carolyn grew up in Tennessee and Alabama. She teaches at the University of New Orleans. Shota Iatashvili is the author of eight collections of poetry and three collections of

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short stories, and is also an editor of a publishing house in Tbilisi, Republic of Georgia. In 2007, he won the SABA Poetry Prize, Georgia’s most prestigious award. His poems have been translated into thirteen languages. Timothy Kercher has spent the last six years overseas—four in Tbilisi, Georgia and two in Ukraine—and now lives in Colorado where he continues to translates Georgian poetry. He is a high school teacher and has worked in five countries—Mongolia, Mexico, and Bosnia being the others. Rich Ives is the 2009 winner of the Francis Locke Memorial Poetry Award from Bitter Oleander and the 2012 winner of the Creative Nonfiction Prize from Thin Air magazine. The Spring 2011 Bitter Oleander contains a feature including an interview and 18 of his hybrid works. Victoria Klimaj is an undergraduate studying neuroscience and creative writing at Knox College. Her focus in both research and writing is the body in pain. Andrew Kozma’s poems have appeared in Blackbird, Water~Stone Review, and Copper Nickel. His book of poems, City of Regret (Zone 3 Press 2007), won the Zone 3 First Book Award.  He has been the recipient of a Jentel Residency, a Houston Arts Alliance Fellowship, and a D. H. Lawrence Fellowship. Sara Lefsyk lives in Boulder, Colorado. She has previous work in such places as The New Orleans Review, Dear Sir, Phoebe, and The Greensboro Review among others. Her chapbook, the christ hairnet fish library, will be coming out from Dancing Girl Press in 2013. Rachel Levy’s fiction can be found in Fence, The Collagist, Drunken Boat, and PANK, among other journals. Her first chapbook is forthcoming from Tree Light Books. George Looney’s sixth poetry collection is Monks Beginning to Waltz (2012); his fifth is A Short Bestiary of Love and Madness (2011). He is also the author of the novella Hymn of Ash (2008). He chairs the BFA in Creative Writing program at Penn State Erie, where he edits Lake Effect and co-directs The Chautauqua Writers’ Festival. Éireann Lorsung edits the journal 111O (111oh.com) and co-runs MIEL, a micropress (miel-books.com). Her second book, Her book, is forthcoming from Milkweed in summer 2013; she is also the author of Music For Landing Planes By. She lives in Belgium.

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Anthony Madrid lives in Chicago. His poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in AGNI Online, Boston Review, Fence, Gulf Coast, Iowa Review, Lana Turner, LIT, Poetry, Washington Square, and Web Conjunctions. His first book is called I am Your Slave Now Do What I Say (Canarium Books, 2012). Daniel Mahoney is a contributing editor at Bateau Press. His many good works have appeared in many good places: The Fiddleback, elimae, DIAGRAM, Slope, etc.  He is in love with music.  He is in love, too, with the music review. Jenn Marie Nunes has work that appears or is forthcoming in such journals as Ninth Letter, Finery, Horse Less Review,  Drupe Fruits  and elimae. Her echapbook, Strip, is available through PANK Magazine, and she is co-editor of Tenderloin, an online gallery for poetry. Some say she has pretty eyes. The poems of Lisa Ortiz have appeared in Zyzzyva, The Literary Review, and Crab Creek Review and have been featured on the sites Verse Daily and Broadsided.  Her chapbook, Turns Out,  is available from Main Street Rag, and a second chapbook is forthcoming in 2013 from Finishing Line Press. Curtis Perdue is the author of the chapbook You Will Island (H_NGM_N 2012). His poems have appeared in Horse Less Review, iO, Jellyfish Magazine, LEVELER, Vinyl Poetry, Willow Springs, and elsewhere. He lives in South Florida where he teaches and edits the online journal of poetry and art, www.interrupture.com. Andrew Michael Roberts is the author of something has to happen next, which was awarded the Iowa Poetry Prize. He has two chapbooks: Dear Wild Abandon, and Give Up, and is the recipient of a national chapbook fellowship from the Poetry Society of America and a distinguished teaching award from the University of Massachusetts Amherst. A cyclist and runner, he lives in Portland, Oregon with his wife Sarah, where he is a nursing student at Oregon Health and Science University. Eliza Rotterman’s poetry and reviews have appeared or are forthcoming in the Colorado Reivew, Interim, Fouteen Hills, and Poetry International. Sbe has co-hosted on the Portland-based podcast Late Night Library. Recently she was awarded the Kay Evans fellowship from The Vermont Studio Center. She lives in Portland, Oregon where she is studying nurse midwifery. C.J. Sage edits The National Poetry Review and The National Poetry Review Press.  Her poems have appeared in Antioch Review, Bateau, Boston Review, Conduit, Orion, Ploughshares, Shenandoah, Threepenny Review, etc. Her latest book is The San Simeon Zebras (Salmon 2010). 

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Tomaž Šalamun lives in Ljubljana, Slovenia. He taught Spring semester 2011 at Michener Center for Writers at The University of Texas. His recent books translated into English are Woods and Chalices, Poker, There’s the Hand and There’s the Arid Chair, The Blue Tower and On the Tracks of Wild Game. Katherine Sanchez lives in Chicago. Her chapbook, “You are either the fire the hummingbird the California coast or the act of flying backwards In this story” was published by H_NGM_N B__KS in July 2012. You can find her at thisgoatlife.tumblr.com Leona Sevick is Associate Provost and Associate Professor of English at Mount St. Mary’s University. Her poems are published or forthcoming in Memoir Journal, The Delaware Poetry Review, and Orange Coast Review.  She is the first place winner of the 2012 Split This Rock poetry contest, judged by Naomi Shihab Nye. D.E. Steward writes serial month-to-month “months” in a project, Chroma, now in its twenty-sixth year. Over two hundred of the months are out in literary magazines. Shorter poetry comes out in the same manner. Google or Bing “d e steward poetry” for far more than you need to know. Michael Thomas Taren was born in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. His poems have been published in HTMLGIANT, The Claudius App, and Fence and are forthcoming in Bestoned. He spent 9 months in Slovenia on a Fulbright Scholarship (2010-2011). His manuscripts Puberty and Where is Michael, were finalists for the Fence Modern Poets Series in 2009 and 2010, respectively. Andrew Terhune is originally from Memphis, Tennessee.  He is the author of the chapbook Helen Mirren Picks Out My Clothes (greying ghost press 2010).  His poems have recently appeared in Meridian, Sixth Finch, West Wind Review, Court Green, and DIAGRAM. Chelsea Whitton is a second year poetry student at the New School MFA program. Her poems have appeared in the Cimarron Review, Rougarou, Ilk and Sixth Finch, among others. She lives in Manhattan with her cat. David Wojciechowski lives and dies in Syracuse, NY.  He is an editor-in-chief at Salt Hill.

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Bateau Volume 5  

Bateau annual 2013

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