the eaold BRB
To my brother, who died at Seventeen..........................................................
1
Self Portrait................................................................................................................
2
Wash me in the river of Blood...........................................................................
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Blissful death of the mind.................................................................................... 5 For Helena Qi Hong: The Highest Manifestation ....................................... 7
I N D E X
A gift ................................................................................................................................ 8 Master Chef ..................................................................................................................
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Dream Big ......................................................................................................................
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fear of landing .........................................................................................................
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Prelude to a Custody Battle for an ‘82 Thunderbird ........................... 14 This time of the year ...............................................................................................
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Love fetished ...............................................................................................................
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Fish and Chip Stop ....................................................................................................
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A Lunar Feast on Nantucket Island ................................................................
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untouchable ...............................................................................................................
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Dream Journal #9 ..................................................................................................... 21 my squiggly spine ..................................................................................................... 22 Contributors .............................................................................................................
23
About the team ..........................................................................................................
26
www.sites.google.com/view/breathebold boldbreathe@gmail.com All Rights Reserved.
to my brother, who died at seventeen
By R.N Penmer
1 Breathe BOLD |Fall 2023
Self Self Portrait Portrait By Zoe Davis
2 Breathe BOLD |Fall 2023
wash me in the river of blood By Allen Seward
the doom scrawlers and doom scrollers and doom scrolls will tighten their vines, their veins, and people will have conniptions, they will break clocks and lamps against the walls, for tomorrow may very well be okay but they don’t know it, and it’s not that they don’t want it to be okay, but they want tomorrow to be far off, to be moored, like the rest of us. what god told us was a dirty joke, but that was long ago, the times have changed so now it may very well be a not-so-dirty joke, or a clean joke, but we don’t laugh so much, so loud, so well anymore.
3 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
the blood of the lamb is also subject to testing, after all. flesh is not bread, after all. so on we go humming a forgotten tune, trying to get it out of our heads, no help for it,
righteous judgment has been passed. the atom bomb. the new age. healing crystals and lottery tickets. smile now and be well. test fate with well-timed jumps. the world may curl into a ball, tighter tighter now, but that need not be the last thing we ever see or hear or do.
4 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
Blissful Death of the Mind In the skies, lies a bane. It stands still, wretched; belongs to everyone as a pain. The stars don’t lie, and nor does the pale winter sky. And the moon doesn’t shine, until the Earth turns a certain way. Why do the leaves wither, only to come back hither? Why do the snakes so slither, in the direction of the innocent thither? Tis’ the cycle of life, with no dearth of strife. The melancholy is rife. Mother Nature lies still with her knife. Tis’ the blade of death, and of agony, that which eventually puts an end, to all progeny.
5 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
But, with every descendant, comes purpose. With every purpose, comes joy. Living is a blessing, for they who fear Death. Living is a bane, for they who so remain blind. It is for the blind, to know the path, that which they so un-see, with such chaotic ease. It is for the ignorant, to know that there lies a ladder, that which they must climb, before the tide comes high. For it is wisely said, that pain is felt more in imagination, than it is in reality. So, if you’ll be so kind, remember;
Those that fear Death, live.
Those that cling to Life, die
6 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
For Helena Qi Hong: The Highest Manifestation BY Yuan Changming
2/ Of a Woman’s Love For a man is to offer him her own body Without covering any parts, to the public or In privacy, just as you did allowing me to Appreciate your corporeal beauty inside out Inch by inch, with my eyes tongue, nose Fingers besides my heart, ready to accept me As I keep invading your feel with all My synapses of love at each depth until I claim every bit of your being
7 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
A Gift BY John Grey
They sit on the bed, the wedding gift between them. It’s late arriving but neatly wrapped. The box is large, the bow is blue. The paper is patterned with pink cherubs. As her deft fingers unwrap, his eyes briefly glimpse knots pulled free and cupids flying in all directions. Inside, it’s just a toaster and they already have three. But it’s a gift. Each is the only one.
8 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
Master Chef BY Huina Zheng
I believe everyone has the potential to become a great master chef as long as they follow the right direction and with a little bit of creativity. Today I will introduce my most well-known and popular dish, “Myself as a Teenager.” Of course, you don’t have to follow precisely each step. This direction is meant to encourage you to innovate and take risks. Dish Name: myself as a teenager; Cooking Utensils: home, school, upbringing, surroundings; Yields: 5 Servings; Difficulty: Easy; Prep Time: 6 Minutes; Cook Time: 12 Minutes; Total Time: 18 Minutes. Ingredients: 1/4 cup character 1/4 cup value 2 teaspoons of love 1/4 teaspoon crushed fear and pains and anger 1 1/4 pounds hobbies, favorite treats, and activities peeled, salted, and smoked, and tryouts removed 1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh perspectives 1 tablespoon mixed joys and sorrows 3 tablespoons of unseasoned hope and dreams 8 each chopped hearts of parents, siblings, grandparents, dogs, teachers, classmates, and friends, trimmed of excess fat Cooked vigor, for serving, optional Tears and laughter to taste
9 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
Directions: Step 1: Stir together the character, value, love, fear, pains, anger, and hobbies in a small bowl and set aside. Step 2: Sprinkle the chopped hearts with perspectives. Heat the joys and sorrows in a medium skillet over medium-high heat. Add the hearts of teachers, classmates, and friends to the skillet and cook, deep fried until medium rare when they reveal their own characteristics: leisurely majesty and loveliness. Step 3: Add the hearts of parents, siblings, grandparents, and dogs to the skillet and cook, stirring occasionally, until the heart of the mother bounces and yells, “Go back to study,” then you know they are cooked through, 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer to a plate. Step 4: Add hope to the skillet and scrape the turquoise bits stuck to the bottom. Add dreams and bring them to a simmer. Return the hearts to the skillet along with the character, value, love, fear, pains, anger, and hobbies, and give the skillet a swirl and stir everything together. Divide among 5 plates and serve with vigor, tears, and laughter if using. Finally, a delicious dish with bright and diverse colors. It tastes a bit sweet, not greasy, either strong or light, and a little spicy, sour, and astringent. Overall, it smells like tangerine plum. Enjoy!
10 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
Dream Big BY Bill Kurz
Courtney hit the bag with a hard jab, pulling it straight back, getting power from the floor. The bag slammed and echoed in the empty gym. The chain rattled. Level change, hook to the body hook to the head, weave out, create space, front kick, repeat. Courtney did each set with greater intensity. The bag swayed. Outside a police siren traveled southward. She backed up from the bag and did ten back foot roundhouses for power, fatiguing around eight, nine, ten. She quickly closed the space and landed an elbow. In the ring next weekend, that’s illegal. ***** “I know I know, you think I’m the big, bad, wolf,” Larry said from behind his desk. His eyes glazed from coke, puffing out his cheeks and blowing with his mouth. The girls were walking past his desk and dropping off an impromptu twenty dollar floor fee for the night because Larry suspected someone had been taking free shots from the bar. “You think this is so fuckin’ bad, go somewhere else! I got girls lined up wanting to dance for me.” He said, tipping his head forward muffling a burp. His forehead was drenched with sweat. A girl walked passed with a tattoo of a bitten apple on the side of her ass cheek. Larry smirked and sat up in his chair, “hey girlie, hey doll,” he said. Eden turned around, “What’s your name?” Larry asked. “Eden,” she said. Larry’s eye twitched. “Not bad,” he said. Another girl walked past dropping money on Larry’s desk. ***** Courtney put the bag in a thai clinch and kneed the bag, yelling with the last few knees. She moved away from the bag with her hands on her hips walking in circles around the gym waiting for her heart rate to decrease. As she walked she eyed the old boxing medals and trophies her uncle won in his prime. She sat on a bench and unwrapped her hands. She thought about all that money he’s invested in her to make it this far. The equipment, the training, the hospital visits, the rehab, none of it would be possible without him. She needs to make a statement next weekend.
11 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
As the last girl walked out while flipping Larry off, he raked the money off his desk into a trash bag, some of it hitting the floor. He dabbed his sweat with a bill and slung it in the bag. He gulped and breathed heavily, looking around his office. Car horns honked outside. On his desk, in place of what used to be a photo of his wife and dogs, stood a photo of him during his boxing prime. Larry looked at his reflection in the glass of the photo. He nervously ran his fingers through his stringy, balding black hair. His lips shook in anger as he stared into the photo. His eyes, full of hatred. He flipped the photo down on the desk, and threw it in the trash bag, tying it shut. ***** Courtney pulled into the parking lot of Rum Runners to work the door for the night. She walked into the back to clock in and saw Larry’s office door open with the light on. She entered to see him alone in his office slumped in his chair, money strewn across the floor. “Larry” she said, he looked up. “You good?” she asked. “Yeah,” Larry said wincing, playing like he was puzzled by the question. “Aight,” Courtney looked around the room. She noticed the boxing photo was no longer on his desk. First the family photo went, then the boxing photo replaced it, now the boxing photo is gone. She saw the tied up trash bag on the floor, “What’s with the bag?” Courtney asked. Larry scratched his head, “Oh that? That’s nothin’.” Courtney nodded, “I’ll be out front,” she said. ***** With everyone gone Courtney cleaned out the last few dishes in the sink and watched Larry’s car pull out the back of the club. She dried her hands and walked in the dark into his office. The trash bag and money wasn’t on the floor anymore. She opened his back closet and from the streetlights outside could see the bag tossed on the floor between the shoeboxes and broken hangers. She opened it and turned over the picture frame to see the photo of her uncle one last time. As she looked into his eyes she knew why he threw the photo out. He didn’t want to see the fire in himself he snuffed out long ago. She dropped the photo into the bag and tied it shut. That next day she hit the bag harder than ever.
12 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2022
Fear of
Landing
BY Stephen Mead
The take-off is exhilarating, a space launch sensation which breaks barriers, sound. As a rubber band, the stratosphere stretches----Come sail intangibility, air, air everywhere distilling the earth into a patchwork movement encompasses. An eye roves to rest on a cerulean sky. Here we are kites taking breath. Here we are an ascending congregation. What we give back is a miracle: flight in the face of gravity, flight hurdling the naysayers. To land is to become an artifact: the last embers of a ritual gathering back Icarus weighted, a parachute shot. He comes down whistling the way stars to, echoing fossils that burn bright. To land is to relinquish our hold of suspension and have the ground greet us, greet us, an old collection of statuary the windows press in. Apprehension rushes up as former ties come down with a sinking inexplicable foreboding: the returning terrain will not hold. the severed bonds not reconnect, the fusion won't happen, we'll skid off, break away, center-less particles of mere feeling, lost luggage reeling, spilling open on that great horizontal carousel: lives unclaimed
13 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
Prelude to a Custody Battle for an ‘82 Thunderbird BY Harry Katz
I have two friends who race off-road, And they won’t be together again. Car’s got sugar in the fuel line, Both of them too. I remember when they started: Desert tracks, Laminated paper prizes on the fridge. They said they were Bonnie and Clyde. They flipped a Mustang once, Right at the finish line. He was hurt and she rushed ‘im out, Cracked a few ribs doing CPR on hot, Houston asphalt. Smoke and scrap metal in the air. In their last picture together, Suffering through flash photography, They are deer in the headlights. Her lips are pursed, but she is leaning back Into him, in a way that says, “ ‘Til the engine’s shot and the wheels fall off:
I’ll have you. ”
14 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
This time of the year BY Sieun Park at this this latitude, latitude, II try try to to at start aa fire fire through through the the start misting rain rain that’s that’s come. come. misting The thought thought of of you you The moves me: me: Images Images moves of our our gestures gestures as as you you of danced under under the the thick thick danced summer night, night, the the light light summer that shines shines in in the the distance, distance, that the photographs photographs that that show show the slashes of of all all gold. gold. slashes Sometime in in the the center, center, Sometime the moon moon shuffles shuffles loosely loosely the through its its phases, phases, like like aa through dime to to flip. flip. In In one one hand, hand, dime you hold hold the the flashlight, flashlight, you Watching the the green green light light Watching glare under under your your eyes. eyes. glare But II am am still still But moving backwards. backwards. moving
15 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
Love fetished BY Anubhuti Pachauri
I want you to engulf me I think Break my bones until I fit perfectly into you Contort my body until all i know is the crook of your neck Tear of my skin and put it onto you Make it so i can never look back Make it permanent Sometimes I wonder how my heart will look in your hands Perhaps pierced by your fingernails, it could be worth something Break me down Until all i am, is yours
16 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
Fish and Chip Stop BY ben macnair
The smell of the grease. The roar of the deep fat fryer. It is not much of a life, but it is my life. I could have painted you my Masterpiece, I just painted the door. Twenty years on an unfinished novel. Twenty years, and a blank page. No chapter headings.No Characterisation. No plot twists. Nothing to make the pages turn. Just a sad middle aged man, with no cares, no family. Fish and chips to be made, and money to earn. I could have seen the world. I never got further than what lives in my imagination. Father said ideas were never good. Ideas would make me aim higher than my station. Chop the potatoes, batter the fish.Father said, when you ask Kings and Queen’s, they say that this is their favourite dish. Fry the Chips,watch the fat turn them brown. Father said he was the King of Fish and Chips, and one day, I will wear the crown. I feel like the Potatoes, chopped and diced, and fryed, to suit a purpose that is not my own. Father took me to see a game. Football, I believe it was. We had to come back early. Customers you see, so many had come on the bus. My sisters, they all got away. Father said that he wanted me to stay, just as he had done. He never asked Mother, until his web was spun. Father had said I would thank him one day. I am sure that that day will come. I am the King of all I survey, from the shops on the High Street, to the Pubs down by the green. The sad,lonely inheritance of the child who stayed. I never saw more than the backyard, but I see the world on the Television. I never got further than an uneasy conversation, but I see the Girls on the Television.
17 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
‘One Cod and Chips’ ‘Two pound ten please’. ‘One chips and a Saveloy’ ‘It will be about 5 minutes sir’. I don’t want to be a Footsoldier, in my Father’s life. I want to be a Prince, in my own. So, I have become the Prince of Fish and Chips. There is one of me in every town. There is one of me in every supermarket. There is a price to be paid for every up, and a bigger price to be paid for every down. I didn’t give up on my dreams. I just never left. I never gave my life away, there was never any theft. Next year I will leave. I said that last year. I will say it every year. The chippie, that is my only heir. One Chippy, in a world obsessed with fitness and health. One Chippy, that was the hand that my family was dealt. Why would anyone want to think about a Potato? That was the family Catchphrase. Why would anyone want to think about an alternative? The smell of the grease. The roar of the deep fat fryer. It is not much of a life, but it is my life.
18 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
A Lunar Feast on Nantucket Island BY Harry katz
Ka-thunk.
Red pulp in rock and sand, A triumphant cheer from up above.
Joyously rushing after the bounty, Crashing in the dark We eat the watermelon off the beach. Grit in our teeth, nectar on bare chests.
On clear nights Those lapping waters bore us far-off stars, And we swallowed them too.
19 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
U n t o u c h a b l e
Of all the abstracts i know, satisfaction or contentment ought to be the most distant, for it seems impossible to possess Never in reach; always within sight and this longing to be consumed by it, a necessity or just another avarice? Is it my expectations which keep this intangible out of my grasp or the nature of this abstract I seek?
BY Aspirin
20 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
Dream Journal #9 BY Rosalie Hendon
He surfaced, the ice curving gently above. Coral, sea glass green, glacier blue shone from the folds. Pristine, unseen by human eyes he swam between water and ice.
Outside, I floated in miles of stars.
21 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
My Squiggly Spine BY Lucy rumble Forty-three point five degree curve, idiopathic scoliosis, the doctor said,
one point five away from severe: requiring urgent medical care.
It shouldn’t hurt, at least not now,
but teenage girls can hate themselves
when their bodies don’t look right.
Parents pay for therapy, if you’d like?
But all a nude reflection brings is that
adolescent doubt, that feeling of raw
spotted skin stretched across my waist,
balanced out by curves all out of place.
The fold of skin across one hip, bra strap
hanging off again, falling from the left.
Scrawling down my back this childish line of
bone hunches and p r o t r u d e s,
but seems to look just fine to someone like you,
who’s never caged inside.
Who can’t feel the click click of Sunday cat / cow, Who laughed at Richard 3 as he lay there all askew,
or the jolt of sitting down. saying he looks just like you.
But his Lego form brought new life to that design
of scrawled cord that I have too.
It’s funny how things change at sight of death
and glimpsing what’s ahead,
knowing that this silly s-shaped squiggle It holds less well than others might and staying put until my day of death.
is the only spine I’ve been left. but holds me nonetheless, standing tall So adult mind forgive your doubt and
find some time to look again with love at that squiggly spine who holds heroes’ heads high.
22 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2023
A Quick Thank you to Everyone who Contributed!! On behalf of the Breathe BOLD team, we liked to thank you to all the people who contributing to the making of our first issue by sending in commissions of your work. We couldn't have made this a reality without all of you. If you'd like to send in a piece of writing, art, stories or articles, please email boldbreathe@gmail.com Thank you all again and here's to the next issue!!
"Self Potrait" By Zoe Davis Zoe Davis is a writer from Sheffield, England. A Quality Engineer in Advanced Manufacturing by day, she spends evenings and weekends writing poetry and prose but especially enjoys exploring the interaction between the fantastical and the mundane, with a deeply personal edge to her work. When she is not writing, Zoe can be found drawing, baking, and playing para ice hockey- just not at the same time. You can also follow her on Twitter @MeanerHarker where she's always happy to have a virtual coffee and a chat.
"wash me in the river of blood" By Allen Seward Allen Seward is a poet from the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia. His work has appeared in Scapegoat Review, Backwards Trajectory, Pandemonium Journal, The Charleston Anvil, and Skyway Journal, among others. He currently resides in WV with his partner and four cats. @AllenSeward1 on Twitter, @allenseward0 on Instagram
"For Helena Qi Hong: The Highest Manifestation" By Yuan Changming Yuan Changming edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver. Credits include 12 Pushcart nominations, 15 chapbooks (most recently Sinosaure) and appearances in Best of the Best Canadian Poetry (2008-17), BestNewPoemsOnline and 2019 other literary outlets worldwide. A poetry judge at Canada's 2021 National Magazine Awards, Yuan began writing and publishing fiction in 2022.
23 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2022
"A GIFT" By John Grey John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Stand, Washington Square Review and Rathalla Review. Latest books, “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the McNeese Review, Santa Fe Literary Review and Open Ceilings.
"Master Chef" By Huina Zheng Huina Zheng holds a M.A. in English Studies degree and has worked as college essay coach. Her stories were published in Baltimore Review, Variant Literature, Midway Journal, Tint Journal, and other journals. Her fiction “Ghost Children” was nominated for Pushcart Prize. She lives in Guangzhou, China with her husband and a daughter
"Dream Big" By Bill Kurz Bill Kurz is a writer from Wayne County, Indiana, USA. His goal is to be a crucible of North American and South American fiction. You can find more of his writing in Sound and Fury, Remington Review, and PLOS One.
"Prelude to a Custody Battle for an ‘82 Thunderbird" By Harry Katz Harry Katz is a part-time bartender and full-time student in the Department of American Studies at Stanford University. His work has appeared in the Rye Whiskey Review and the White Cresset Arts Journal and won the Bocock Guerard Fiction Prize. He lives in the stormiest part of Central Virginia, in a county with far more cows than people.
"This time of the year" By Sieun Park Sieun Park is a 14-year-old student currently studying at International School Manila. She is from Seoul, South Korea. She enjoys playing sports and listening to music.
24 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2022
"Love Fetished" By Anubhuti Pachauri Anubhuti is a student living in the hot bowels of Mumbai. She spends her time fretting over things she should probably be doing right now and musing over inconsequential things. However when she finds pockets of peace in her busy schedule (fretting and musing) she can be found annoying her friends/cat or watching copious amounts of tv.
"Fish and Chip Stop" By Ben Macnair Ben Macnair is an award-winning poet and Playwright from Staffordshire in the United Kingdom. Follow him on Twitter @benmacnair
"Untouchable" By Aspirin aspirin, I'm a 1st year college student majoring in English and history (I'll be in college very soon so it's fine ig) I really love reading which makes me want to write something I'd love to read.
"A Lunar Feast on Nantucket Island" By Harry Katz Harry Katz is a part-time bartender and full-time student in the Department of American Studies at Stanford University. His work has appeared in the Rye Whiskey Review and the White Cresset Arts Journal and won the Bocock Guerard Fiction Prize. He lives in the stormiest part of Central Virginia, in a county with far more cows than people.
"Dream Journal #9" By Rosalie Hendon Rosalie Hendon (she/her) is an environmental planner living in Columbus, Ohio. Her work is published in Change Seven, Pollux, Willawaw, Write Launch, and Sad Girls Club, among others. Rosalie is inspired by ecology, relationships, and stories passed down through generations.
25 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2022
"My squiggly spine" By Lucy Rumble I have just finished my master's degree and am currently working as a digital archive assistant in London. I hold a degree in Ancient, Medieval and Modern History from Durham University and am primarily interested in historic literature. My flash fiction has been featured in a handful of literary magazines such as Aurum Journal, and I have recently branched out into poetry (although this is yet unpublished). My Twitter handle is: @lucyrumble12
26 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2022
About our team: Our Founder & Editor-in-chief:
Ushmil Rimjha Ushmil Rimjha is a 17 year old with a passion for writing and reading. She believes in the power of words. It was among books that she found her reality. She is uniquely a person based on her thoughts and emotions. She loves to have meaningful talk and she loves to interact with likeminded people. Ushmil also loves researching around public health and philosophy.
Our Favourite Graphic Designer: Jazryel Freeland Jazryel Freeland (a.k.a Niso) is a 19 years old, from the United State. She is the graphic designer/editor of Breathe Bold. She is a freelance graphic designer/artist. She has worked in various mediums including digital, pencil, watercolor, typography, vector, etc. Art has always been her medium to express, winning competitions such as the National Cherry Festival and MITES during high school.
27 Breathe BOLD | Fall 2022
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