Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Book Book Book

I try not to use Zombie Logic Review to promote myself, Zombie Logic Press, or anything else I might be working on too often, but once in a while I just need a few extra sheckles in the coffer to work on my next project(s). This is one of those times. Sort of like a pledge drive. Let me pitch you two of my books.

Flesh Wounds is a book I wrote during my time in the service industry. The title reflects the toll working in that industry can take on one if you fall into the many pitfalls and temptations present, which I invariably did. If I may say so I really enjoy the cover I designed of me standing in for the apostle Thomas holding a can of Schlitz examining the wounds of Jesus.

I'm told this is probably the best poem I wrote for that book, and it's only saving virtue.


 You were our first lesson 
 In rage and greed- 
 Possibly love. 
 Our smiling guardian 
 Put the stick 
 In our small hands, 
 Blindfolded us 
 And whispered that 
 Unspeakable treasures 
 Awaited us when we 
 Destroyed you. 
 Spun around and 
 Drunken with images 
 Of unimaginable trinkets 
 We became whirling dervishes 
 Of lust and anger, 
 Whacking and thumping away 
 At your broken smile 
 Way past nap time, 
 Until frustrated with 
 Our lack of killer instinct, 
 Our teacher sawed you 
 In half, spilling 
 Far less enticing bounty 
 Than we had dreamed of. 
 Some rushed forward and 
 Grabbed and devoured, 
 Others stood back and 
 Cried over the carnage. 
 Either way we all learned 
 Who we would be that day. 

You can buy Flesh Wounds here

Submerged Structure is a book I wrote that deals with suffering from a personality disorder but still having the desire to communicate and be present with other people. It's a struggle for many of us. 

Away Message 

I am away 
From my desk 
Right now 

I am away 
From the gravity 
Of lover's 

I am away 
From the vessel 
Right now in 
A geosynchronous orbit 
Around the lost moon 
Of Jupiter 

So leave me 
A message 

Because I 
Am away. 

You can buy Submerged Structure here 

Any spreading of the word is much appreciated. I'd like to keep doing this a little longer.

Saturday, May 12, 2018

Two Poems By Matthew Borczon

Matthew Borczon is a poet from Erie, Pa his most recent book Code 3 the prison Blues just came out from Alien Buddha Press. He has written seven books of poetry and has published widely in the small press. He is a nurse for developmentally disabled adults and is a sailor in the Navy reserve.

Was telling
my wife
confronting her
husband asking
who the
girl was
that was
blowing up
his phone
what did
he say
what did
you do
my wife
asks he
didn't say
so I
punched him
hard enough
to break 
his nose
then he
called the
and had
me arrested

Julie looks
at me
for the
first time
and says
he's lucky
I was
holding the
baby with
my good
arm or
I swear
it would
have been

parents had
been missionaries
in Jonestown
when he
was born
and they
left just
weeks before
the massacre
so Pat
lost almost
he had
ever known
all at 

Pat talked
about it
all the
time and
even when
he didn't
you could
still see
it in

his eyes.

Five Poems By Simon Perchik

Five poems by Simon Perchik

These windows know all about lakes
hiding among the dead –by instinct
the glass freezes, just so
and slowly you carve two initials
as if the name underneath
would follow the way a small hole
heats the ice, lures the fish closer
taking hold though the glare
is already marshland, drains
where one finger let go
the other and the room fills
counts on you to come.
                     This bloom still reckless, its heat
breaking into the furious hum
bugs use for melting snow 
there’s no interest in romance
though every winter now
is warmed, takes hold your hand
by brushing against the dirt
risks its place to lure you, naked
in front the house, her breasts
surrounded and across your tongue
a lingering darkness welcomes them
knows nothing why your fingers smell
from avalanche and salt
and never had that taste for sweets
moving mouth to mouth
snatching things up, louder and louder
certain this frost is frost, named
so soon after its birth and yours.
Hopeless! you add more salt
the way another spoonful
rows you across, the spray
clouding over with shoreline
this soup has to be heated again
spread out as if night after night
you need a bigger pot
already with its darkness
caked on to these stars coming by
so early –to the same place
and for a second time are trembling
cling without touching your face.
You reach into that darkness
stars return for, are cooled
and yet you open the mail
slowly so in each envelope
the letter folding over and over
still falls out as mist
covers the ground
almost to a boil –you retrace
the way the blind find shelter
and with just your fingertips
empty the small fire
hidden behind the others
waiting for its shadow
cut off from home
and at the slightest touch.
Splash is how this stone
remembers squeezing your hand
then letting go, covers the ground
with seawater though you
can’t taste the salt
and inside each embrace
the first thunderclap and shrug
no longer dries, your shoulders
falling now as loneliness
then sand –you listen
the way all marble is crushed
drowns from the same gesture
that takes you arm in arm
bathes you tighter and tighter
for pebbles and caring.

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Three Shorties By Johann Johns

Most recently, J. H. Johns has appeared in a special edition of Syndic Literary Journal- "Remembering 9-11." .


J. H. Johns
(Copyright  © J. H. Johns 2017)

      Grass is green,
      grass is growing-

      grass needs to be cut-

      over and over, again…



J. H. Johns
(Copyright  © J. H. Johns 2017)


“Press One for English;
Press Two for Spanish;
Press Three for Greek;
Press Four for Korean;
Press Five for Chinese;
Press Six for Chinese Take-Out;
Press Seven for Korean Take-Out
Press Eight for Greek Take-Out
Press Nine for Spanish Take-Out
Press Zero to reach the Operator Who Won’t Be There.”



J. H. Johns
(Copyright  © J. H. Johns 2017)

This thought is-

the product of observing
the one-time

that you see in the supermarket;



in the embodiment of what

they have unwittingly become.