Vibe is located at 909 W. 23rd St. in Cedar Falls on the second floor of Bought again Books. Persons needing access accommodation should call 266-7115 by the day before the event. For more information, contact Jim O'Loughlin.
Now Available from
Final Thursday Press
Ghost Wars
Poetry by Vince Gotera
In Ghost Wars, Vince Gotera, Editor at the North American Review, brings together a career of poetic considerations about the experience of war and its aftermath in this timely chapbook. Denise Duhamel writes "The poems in Ghost Wars are the tickers off the bottom of CNN's screen pushing out of the TV and flourishing like vines in our living rooms." Allison Joseph notes "Lively, compassionate, and intelligent, the poems of Ghost Wars are a necessary balm for our uncertain national psyche."
Ghost Wars is a signed and numbered edition limited to 500 copies.
$5.00 32 pgs. 8 1/2 by 5 1/2
ISBN 0-9742764-0-5
Laugh. Damnit.
Poetry by Ahkos
Feeling pretentious? Walk away now. The poems in this collection target poetic self-importance with humor and a bit of an edge. Formed in (and in response to) Boston's open mic scene, "Laugh. Damnit." will make you smile, or else.
$1.00 16 pgs.
Bad Men
Microfiction by Jim O'Loughlin
Four short short stories that made their debut at the Final Thursday Reading Series. They weren't originally intended to be part of a collection; it just happened that way. Find out what happens to the lounge lizard, the ex-con, the slacker student, and the serial monogamist.
$2.00 18 pgs.
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Check out the Final Thursday Press Website
Poems by Ann Struthers
Leaping to Conclusions
Two long-tailed gray monkeys
on long chains beside the gate
at Unawatuna's beachfront restaurant
caper about, screech,
scratch, urinate, defecate,
fornicate.
We tell the owner
he should return them to the jungle,
let wild creatures be free.
I've tried," he sighs--"driven them out
in the jungle, turned them loose,
but they always find their way back.
They like the handouts here.
If I didn't keep them chained
they'd leap on the tables and chairs,
jump on your laps, steal your plates,
ransack the kitchen. Be careful,"
he says, "what you try to tame."
I look at you,
you look at me,
and we both
laugh.
Marianne, Fly Over Sri Lanka
(with a nod to Elizabeth Bishop)
Marianne, you'd love the mugger crocodile,
blowing bubbles, thrashing his tail,
trying to attract lady crocs,
the sleek water monitor, shiny gray
and dappled yellow on its back
who stands on his tail in the tanks
to wrestle and fight duels.
You and your bat-wing cloak should see
the giant fruit bats who hang
in Victoria Park's trees folded like origami,
unfold at dusk and swoop over my balcony.
One hundred fifty elephants at Perahera time
walk for two weeks from far away towns,
stopping at temples at night to rest.
In Colombo, they're led to the pond
where mahouts scrub their rough gray hides
with green coconut rinds.
You could see the beauty in all of these,
and maybe you could love even the hooded cobra.
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