Exterminating Angel Press

Creative Solutions for Practical Idealists.

Exangel

Heavens, Hells, and Poems.

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If you know me, you know I’m very big on looking at the bright side of things. Which is probably where the “Heavens Revealed” topic of this issue came from. But of course to constantly look on the bright side gives you something of a case of sunblindness. Heaven and hell being human constructs, they are, like all those pesky bipolarities, two sides of the same coin, yes? And anyway, I know I fail at looking on the dark side at times, with the cost of ignoring hell a little too high for comfort. So Denny Donahue’s Ghost.

On the other hand, in defense of that position, I do think that an endless literary promotion of a dystopian vision is an even worse mistake. In my experience, most people aren’t horrific narcissistic flesh eating monsters. In my experience, everyday life produces the most earthbound heavens. Even if you’re a rocker, like in The Guitar Hero Goes Home, by Marilyn Jaye Lewis. Even if it looks like you’re in hell, it might be you’re prepping a future heaven—Coronado’s Story, by Christorpher Asian Overfelt. Even if you think you’re lying about the heavens, who knows? Confessions of a Reluctant Astronomer, by Ronnie Pontiac. And even if you’re just hanging out in a laundromat, there’s always the stray epiphany—Bruce E.R. Thompson’s O wise laundress.

Meanwhile, we’ve got another excerpt from Brian Griffith’s phenomenal study of the history of Iranian women, Mother Persia—“Parvin Paidar and Postpatriarchal Islam.” Look for the book in Fall 2020, from Exterminating Angel Press. It’s his best work, no lie. And some of ours, too.

Before I leave, I have to give another shout out to Marissa Bell Toffoli, the hardest working poetry editor in rock and roll. I may have mentioned before how very beholden to her I am, but hey, it bears repeating. We have so many looks at poetic heavens and beyond thanks to her this issue: Wrong Sky, by Mark Robinson. San Miguel Cemetery, Malaga, Spain, by Jeff Schiff. Multitude, by Chris Farago. My 70 Year Old Bucket List (Amended), by Barry Vitcov. God, by DS Maolalai. And, of course, Marissa’s own The Music Breaks.

Thanks, hon. EAP just wouldn’t be the same without you.

Welcome back.

Confessions of a Reluctant Astrologer.

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by Ronnie Pontiac. Without trepidation I present this approximate translation of a rare manuscript found among the papers of a Russian emigre who spent his later years in poverty working at the Renault plant outside Paris. He was notorious in the refugee community for his Occult interests. “He was a cordial host, but his thirst […]

San Miguel Cemetery, Málaga, Spain.

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by Jeff Schiff. Tucked now between a dog park and bazars the province of Chinese expats in a grove of peppery Seville orange the predictable Andalusian suspects Garcia Fernandez Velázquez Giménez Animas Saenz scores of Velascos Riveras and Alvaros a gauntlet of now rounded marble mausoleums and flaked iron work and many beneath my feet […]

The End User, Feodora.

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by Colin Dodds. By the time Feodora had visited the last of the best and brightest doctors with their enormous machines, and absurd healers with their enormous claims, the family jet seemed like another hospital hallway to her. But among the most optimistic and grandiose of the experts she met, her condition made even the […]

O wise laundress.

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by Bruce E. R. Thompson. I met a woman at the laundromat, who said—“There’s quietude in folding clothes. A menial task; but not as bad as that. It gives me time to think. Sometimes I pause and wonder why it matters that sheets be flat, or stockings matched and rolled. It does, of course. Nothing […]

Wrong Sky.

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by Mark Robinson. Verse, like a cat, paws at the door trying to find a loose thread in the fabric of time A place to slip out and into the world. Tonight, that rare blood-orange moon, neglected disc of wisdom. Me, trying to plot the coordinates of my dreams, looking in the wrong sky night […]

God.

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by DS Maolalai. from the top of my bed I look, watch the forest with bare feet. I am not a tidy man, as my apartment can attest. I should never be allowed to live anywhere belonging to someone. between the carpet strands, spat appleseeds sprout with nutrition gleaned from spilled wine and old sweat. […]

The Music Breaks.

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by Marissa Bell Toffoli. Ankles shake. Trust is rusty. Like it’s only old bones rattling this thin skin. The beat, the count, hit it. Dancers in the studio flock together in time. Turns spin out. Breathe. Another take needed for the pulling apart, limb from limb, you from me and the other way around. Spot […]

My 70-year Old Bucket List (Amended).

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by Barry Vitcov. This 70-year old Jew Wants a slew of pork belly Crispy and succulent I want meat from Rabbits and ostriches No brisket, kishkes, or latkes will do I want a threesome of Clams, oysters, and lobsters Sucking out sweet, chewy flesh Even in a fishy, frothy stew of Shrimp and other bottom […]

A Jain in D.C.

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by Ron Singer. You could say it started in the bathroom of my hotel room, to which I had repaired after the five-hour bus and Metro trip from New York City to Washington D.C. As a conscientious traveler, I had long been aware of all the people who worked so hard to serve my vacation […]