NEW HOPE INTERNATIONAL REVIEW

The NISQUALLY DELTA REVIEW has a slightly old-fashioned feel about it. It is clearly under the dominance of editor CarrieAnn Thunell who sets out her stall with the following information:

NDR is interested in poetry that celebrates nature and is ecologically minded, poetry that explores the meaning of life, death, theological questions, agnosticism, peace, love, aging, relationships between people, people and animals, or people and nature.

NDR prefers poetry of depth and taste that give clear evidence that the raw compost of emotions and intuitions has been transformed into living art with universal appeal. NDR does not encourage narcissistic ranting, or theraputic [sic] effusions of personal self-pity. I look for well-crafted content that taps into the veins of angst and struggle common to humanity. NDR welcomes poetry that is dense, well written, and demonstrates a well-developed vocabulary that is sufficiently precise so as to be above recourse to profanity. Above all, send poetry of substance that has something to say. NDR prefers nature based haiku focused on the present moment. No scatological or overt sexual themes, please.

This issue of NDR has a sprinkling of naïve black and white illustrations by the editor

There are some interesting pieces on offer here but I haven't the time to judge each piece against the stringent rubric control of Ms Thunell.

H.F. Noyes does indeed deserve his featured place in this issue: His JAPONICA SEQUENCE is a delight, as is:

	early birdsong
	rousing the neighbor's flowers
	while they sleep

	hand in hand
	with the starry eyed child
	nova brightening

	A bud
	of the red anemone
	ready to burst...
	the child
	she never bore

	Pamela Miller Ness

	leftover tank
	of cheap Jersey gas—
	I drive around town
	searching for the song
	of yesterday's highway 

	Ruth Holzer

The collection of free verse however holds the gems of this collection. Clear-Cut by LAUREL JOHNSON Captures a response to nature with such lines as:

	my memory celebrated
	low rolling ancient mountains folding
	in upon themselves, fog fingers rising,
	swirling, creeping through the hollers
	in a dance primordial.
	...
	Skin remembers that first misty baptism
	...
	Spirits walked the forests. I could feel them.

	Stop throwing the Constitution in my 
	face. It's just a goddamned piece of
	paper!

The last but not least offering by CarrieAnn Thunell is the finely presented, BRUSH STROKES WING OUT TO SEA, which captures the essence of the creative process. Here we see the artist as well as the poet at work:

	He sets up his easel
	on a bluff
	bathed in blue

	The brush slips
	taking an eternity
	to clatter
	off sharp rocks
	and spins
	in eddies of air
	...
	A gull dives
	catches the brush
	in it's beak
	wings out to sea
	painting clouds
	in it's wake.