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The End by C.C. O’Hanlon

This is the end.

I’m going to miss these few weeks I’ve spent as a guest editor for BHP. Thanks to everybody who submitted their works around my loosely framed theme of Place: Movement / Escape / Exploration / Architecture. With few exceptions, they were exactly what I’d hoped for.

Thanks to everybody who read them. My immediate predecessors, Florence Lenaers and Amee Nassrene Broumand, had broadened BHP‘s readership significantly and I’m happy (and relieved) that I managed to add to its growth.

I’m also happy to have maintained a similarly rich diversity of contributors. Old, white males – like me – were few.

Thank you, Miggy Angel, for allowing me to be part of this. I’ve had a blast.

I’ll let myself out.

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Place: Movement / Escape / Exploration / Architecture

A convenient, comprehensive index of the works selected by guest editor C.C. O’Hanlon in April, 2018. Check it out, make sure you didn’t miss anything.

April 3rd
Chainsaw Demolition Waltz, a poem by Tara Lynn Hawk

April 4th
Wonderment, a poem by Tara Lynn Hawk
Waiting For The Ocean, words and photographs by by hiromi suzuki

April 5th
Nothing Dries Sooner Than A Tear, a memoir by Joanna Pickering

April 6th
Tom Jeffreys: In Conversation with C.C. O’Hanlon

April 7th
Badlands, a poem by Betsy Housten
Peach On The Beach, a prose poem by Kate Feld

April 9th
Static In The Bones, a poem by Amy Kinsman

April 10th
In Dudley, two prose poems by R.M. Francis
Writing A Winter Sunset, a diary by Oliver Cable

April 11th
The Catskills Dream, collages and brief memoir by Anna Louise Simpson

April 12th
Under A Wave Off Kanagawa, a poem by William Doreski
Meeting Robert Graves, a memoir by Larry Buttrose

April 13th
Objects In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear, Four Poems by Sam Lou Talbot

April 14th
Fernando Sdrigotti: In Conversation with C.C. O’Hanlon

April 15th
On Becoming A Storyteller: A Berlin Memoir by Jessica Ciccarelli

April 16th
The Tyranny of the Horizon, words and photos by Laurence Mitchell

April 17th
Arrival As A Form Of Departure: the lamentation of an immigrant, a poem by Bola Opaleke
Dream Vision, a poem by Lucie Richter-Mahr

April 18th
Dreaming St. Conan’s Kirk, a memoir by Ever Dundas
Sahara, a poem by Petero Kalulé

April 19th
Two Poems by Janet Reed

April 20th
This Is Not A Memorial, And Other Stories Of Remembrance, a pilgrimage by Alan Nance

April 21st
Mulure Mike: In Conversation with C.C. O’Hanlon
Creation, a poem by Erynn Pontius

April 22nd
Make A Way If There Isn’t One, a poem by Heather Saunders Estes
Sh-Boom, a poem by Mare Leonard

April 23rd
Skin, flash fiction by Olga Dermott-Bond
In Casablanca, a travel story (sort of), by Ganzeer

April 24th
You’re The Crocodile Now: Journal Fragments by E.F. Fluff
Who’d Pick A Fight With Lee Marvin?, a travel story by David Dragon

April 25th
Walking Westward, Toward Jerusalem, Across The Jordan Valley, a poem by Aiya Sakr
This Place is Ours, a poem by Hazel Warren
Journeys, art by Jodie Day
L.A. Lust, words and images by Yanina Spizzirri

April 26th
whatitoka (doorway), a prose poem by Kathleen McLeod
Two Poems by John Boursnell
Meeting Frank, a poem by Loretta Oleck

April 27th
A Believing Place, a journey by Nina Foushee
In Anticipation Of The Singularity, a poem by Mark Beechill
Smithsonian Destruction Vigil, experimental prose by John Trefry
This Would Be The Perfect Day, flash fiction by Cathy Ulrich
Everything, a poem by Line Toftsø

April 28th
Jo Tinsley: In Conversation with C.C. O’Hanlon
Phrygians In The Rigging, a pilgrimage by Caroline Stockford

April 29th
Three Fragments On The Portative Organ, prose by Eva Ferry

 

 

 

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Three Fragments On The Portative Organ* by Eva Ferry

Fragment I
The story of a screech: it rose as the last bus of the evening crossed the borders of the city to the motorway. All seventeen of us on the top deck turned our heads. Oh yes, it was perfunctory (because on a double-decker you cannot really see what’s going on behind you on the road, even less so in the dark), but the gesture had already captivated me – the meaning, the intention. By the time all heads were turned, it was clear that we had all misjudged the nature of the screech (pitch dropping, frequency decreasing as it unwrapped). This could never come from a human throat, but rather from the strained brakes of a vehicle. Continue reading “Three Fragments On The Portative Organ* by Eva Ferry” →

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Phrygians In The Rigging by Caroline Stockford

“I seek a place that can never be destroyed, one that is pure, and that fadeth not away, and is laid up in heaven, and safe there, to be given, at the time appointed, to them that seek it with all their heart.”
– John Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress

Our pilgrimage almost came to an end under the wheels of a 10-ton truck on the D650 from Istanbul to Eskişehir, on a summer night made darker by no highway illumination and no towns for miles around. The four-lane highway was flanked on one side by dry,  empty country and on the other by two-hundred-feet-tall black crags, out of which the silhouettes of pine trees leered, high up. Continue reading “Phrygians In The Rigging by Caroline Stockford” →

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Jo Tinsley: In Conversation with C.C. O’Hanlon

Jo Tinsley is the founder and editor of Ernest Journal – “an independent magazine for the curious and adventurous”. She is also the co-author of two books, The Odditorium: The tricksters, eccentrics, deviants and inventors whose obsessions changed the world and The Mysterium: Unexplained and extraordinary stories for a post-Nessie generation, and editor of Waterfront, a magazine celebrating a connection with water for the Canal & River Trust. Somehow, she also finds time to work as a freelance writer and curator. Continue reading “Jo Tinsley: In Conversation with C.C. O’Hanlon” →

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Everything by Line Toftsø

I want to be promised
everything.
My hand I am
so wet
the simultaneous breaths
are soaking
everything Continue reading “Everything by Line Toftsø” →

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This Would Be The Perfect Day by Cathy Ulrich

If I were an office worker in Japan, I would take a holiday with my Japanese boyfriend to the Hachiman Shrine in Kamakura. We would ride the train together, holding hands. We would always be holding hands. I would know the feel of his grip better than anything. Continue reading “This Would Be The Perfect Day by Cathy Ulrich” →

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Smithsonian Destruction Vigil by John Trefry

For the end of the plague, for victory the erection of a scutulously ornate votive column in the isolation of the multiaxial crossroads of the citycenter, for here is the palimpsest of vehicular crossroads, for the completion of the navmesh, for the nativity of Salty, for nothing more than the ecstasy of sculpture, for successful dolphin harvesting, here upon this plinth is the destruction of the Parliament Hall, here upon this plinth is the meatjam Continue reading “Smithsonian Destruction Vigil by John Trefry” →

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In Anticipation Of The Singularity by Mark Beechill

It was a bad day:

By the end of it

He had become convinced

That the landscape of the city

Had been usurped Continue reading “In Anticipation Of The Singularity by Mark Beechill” →

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A Believing Place by Nina Foushee

For months before going to Alaska, I thought about how six hours of daylight would feel. In California, I’d lay in bed and imagine the darkness as a hand closing around my throat. Continue reading “A Believing Place by Nina Foushee” →

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Meeting Frank by Loretta Oleck

Fying from New York to Athens,

I am seated next to a man named Frank.

 

35,000 feet in the air,

high above sea level,

far from swelling waves – Continue reading “Meeting Frank by Loretta Oleck” →

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Two Poems by John Boursnell

Fushimi Inari

We walked into the dark-

-er and darker red gates and long long steps

a key between my teeth

shiny shiny boots plastic

cup of warm white wine Continue reading “Two Poems by John Boursnell” →

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whatitoka (doorway) by Kathleen McLeod

Crying on the threshold, waiting to step into light, waiting to step into a history of pain. I am at the doorway now. The process of healing hollows me out, a tree preparing to become a waka. Sailing back in time into an ocean of grief and love, back to where I began, back to where we first landed. Continue reading “whatitoka (doorway) by Kathleen McLeod” →

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L.A. Lust by Yanina Spizzirri

This city, this big sprawling dream of a city, mighty and misunderstood Los Angeles, is often defined in terms of tired cliches and sweeping generalizations. Soul-less and a-historical L.A., they say. A city where nobody walks, they lie. A far-reaching enigma going on for miles and miles, they all nod and agree, baffled. Continue reading “L.A. Lust by Yanina Spizzirri” →

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Journeys, art by Jodie Day

Journeys, physical, spiritual and psychological, are at the centre of each of my works. The idea of leaving and arriving  – or transcending – inspires me to create. Continue reading “Journeys, art by Jodie Day” →

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This Place is Ours by Hazel Warren

We wandered the streets
Pointing out our childhood
Every detail that remains
A teenaged memory Continue reading “This Place is Ours by Hazel Warren” →

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Walking Westward, Toward Jerusalem, Across The Jordan Valley by Aiya Sakr

And once we’ve reached the bridge, we stop.
I have seen the native fellaheen* cross on bikes and motorbikes,
phones in their back pockets,
blasting music that hits like sudden hail in the country stillness,
bites,
and echoes away. Continue reading “Walking Westward, Toward Jerusalem, Across The Jordan Valley by Aiya Sakr” →

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Who’d Pick A Fight With Lee Marvin? by David Dragon

Douglas, Arizona, is a border town.

I pull up outside the Gadsden Hotel around 10.15am after driving down State Highway 191 from an overnight stay in Willcox. The road follows the line of the Dragoon Mountains, where, in the 1860s, the Chiricahua Apache leader Cochise took refuge with two hundred of his people and for ten years waged a guerrilla war against the US army Continue reading “Who’d Pick A Fight With Lee Marvin? by David Dragon” →

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In Casablanca by Ganzeer

In Casablanca you will expect buildings to be white, based solely on the city’s name, which translates to ‘white house’. But there will hardly be a truly white building in sight. How odd is it to call a city a house? Once you spend a little time in Casablanca, it will make perfect sense. Continue reading “In Casablanca by Ganzeer” →

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Skin by Olga Dermott-Bond

“When you change the bed sheets, keep your mouth shut – you don’t want to breathe in other people’s dead skin.” Continue reading “Skin by Olga Dermott-Bond” →

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