This is when ponies
were dark violet and a
sack of carrots was all we needed
to survive in the golden desert.
Brother and sister: what a fearless
team to behold.
We’d set toward the sun
as it dropped in the West,
and knew we’d reach Oklahoma
Your toosmall blue cowboy boots made you limp
but you didn’t complain.
While my roomy red ones heroically dug craters
with my pointed plastic heels.
The spurs we never owned
flashed and made metal chinks
as we strode across the sands.
I wiped my brow with a gloved hand,
while silently you mimicked me.
Plastic muskets on our backs,
we always knew when danger would arrive,
and when it did we fought like ninjas
twisting and kicking the threatening dust.
The cowboys of our backyard,
we kept the neighborhood secure,
even though we were no more than 7 and 9.
I always gave myself more credit,
it made sense. I was older.
You’d go first into the darkness,
and I’d bask in the glory of cowardice.
I’ll always wish I didn’t sacrifice you
so many times during play.
That made it too easy when I started playing
real life. I would apologize, but it is horrific
how much child is extracted from me each year.
_____________________________________ KM Armstrong has a Master’s degree in English from Binghamton University, where she studied creative nonfiction and theory. She lives in Binghamton and works in law enforcement.
every morning the machine hands us a hiccuped torch.
recycled failures of the week, the year, the decade before.
cc’d emails collect a swollen desk. an asbestos-lined ceiling
fan stains a memory of the time when a senator, a congresswoman,
and a community member vowed to fight this Brooklyn machine
with the rigor of a Long Island PTA mother. but I am on the front-lines.
every morning i look for answers in their epic eye gazing, repetitive self-injuries,
and empty vocalizations.
____________________________________ Jessica Abel is a Speech Therapist based in Brooklyn, NY. She earned her B.S. in English Literature from S.U.N.Y Binghamton and M.S. in Speech-Language Pathology from New York Medical College. She is currently pursuing her M.S. in School Leadership. She is a lover of adolescent literature and music (think Judy Blume and Lorde).
After almost a year or two of putting it off, I and the other editors have posted the final issue of The Cartographer Electric! This was a magazine we started back as seniors at Binghamton University. Along with the issue, we created a reading series at the Belmar that still continues to this day.
After graduating, we quickly ran out of steam to continue putting out issues. This was a true community magazine, and it fed on the energy of the readings and was inspired into existence the other poets we knew and were excited to read. It was a great experience, and I think that everyone should start a small community rag like this. It doesn’t have to be big or ambitious…just something that you share between you, your friends, and their friends. I don’t spend lots of time reading the latest issue of Ploughshares, but I was always interested in reading local indie rags like the one we were putting out.
During grad school, I had the idea to start an accompanying online press that gave ebooks away for free. We put out a fantastic copy of Joe Weil’s poems that is still available (lovely typos and all–some day I’m going to fix that), a half-chap of poems by Eric Kocher (who is currently kicking ass down at Houston), and Gene Tanta. Gene’s book is currently unavailable as he is editing it for another edition (more on that later!).
The Press Electrrrric! is on the back burner for me right now, but some day I’d like to revisit it. Until then, I hope you enjoy all the archives of material (I know the website is not a looker right now–I’m gonna go back to that some day too!). I want to give one last shout out to my fellow-editors-in-crime Joel Davis and Adam Pelligrini. It was a good time while it lasted, bros.