Dream & Reality issue ☩

Welcome to the twenty-second surviving edition of the Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, the Dream & Reality issue, this one taking particular care to concentrate on that ancient form of written expression known as poetry (this idea stemming from a natural extension of our penultimate edition, last October's Hallowe'en Piñata Issue ☠, when we serialized every chapter of Edgar Allan Poe's one and only published novel, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, and then threw in a clay potful of surprise poems from a variety of initiates including all four members of the Crimson Circle, in addition to a last-minute unforeseen curiosity, the rare John Shirley story "And When You Called Us We Came To You," all of which rounded out into an altogether satisfactory imprint for our webzine). So I decided to commemorate our zine's revival with a special poetry issue. 

Dream & Reality  

the FREEZINE of

Fantasy and Science

Fiction 

The first cover image for the Dream & Reality issue; courtesy of NASA. Alexander Gerst photo taken from ISS

The Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction remains a blog open to full disclosure in broad daylight. The artists and writers involved have been dragged into these events on slowly unfolding currents of a heretofore unexpected variety arriving altogether unforeseen in compliance  with their own discretion, and we remain grateful for this willfulness to exercise their freedom of expression here on this obscure world wide forum, where we all may gather to enjoy, vicariously, the dark and fantastic bits of fancy they have offered for our mindful consumption. For shouldn't we remain mindful of what we read and dare to look at with our naked eyes under the tightening and unraveling of this electromagnetic spectrum? What better place to meet than in this home-spun coziness of the vaporous tracings of the world wide web.  

Thus we are brought together over Blogger, an expanding snippet of cyberterritory first launched by Pyra Labs in 1999, and acquired by Google just four years later, in 2003. Six years after that, I began the Freezine as a blog that would dispense daily serializations of fantasy and science fiction stories, as well as shorter, stand alone tales on Fridays; a four week issue alternating every other month, replete with full color, original scanned artwork to complement the spirit of the venture.  The Freezine went full-tilt for the first couple of years, then began slowing down a bit, and now here we are, lucky to have one issue last year and one issue for 2018.  

An apt sub-title for this current issue would've been the "waking up to reality" issue, considering its recovery in the immediate wake of having reacquired third-party image-hosting rights from our private service provider, Photobucket,  along with the Nano Armada and my dedication to keeping this project going. We've been lucky in that regard and have been thus able to resurrect our weird zine, which after the onrush of the aforementioned issues, had lain somewhat dormant with inactivity for some time, unbeknown to most, as the trend winding down has indicated for the past few years.  

And so the Freezine finds itself in the midst of a fortuitous realignment of energies having resulted in a re-ignition of its former hyperdrive engines. This coincides with an urgent message from the nanoswarm; —'henceforth immediately proceed with your wildest dreamings...(message interference)...opportunity may . . .  again...'—(message cut off).  All the missives I've received—from the mysterious, lurking micro-presence I've been led to believe have been delivered by a sequence of nanocomputers injected into neutrinos fired back in time through black holes dilated in the far future—have been relatively short; mostly no more than suddenly-interrupted bursts of semi-intelligible commands. I've gathered that whatever splintered enclave of humanity sent them managed to survive that long into the future perhaps having braved outer space after all, possibly in a pressurized Tesla Station orbiting a gas giant's moon, or along some strip of  an off-world colony to which the last remnant of our species will manage to cling. For example, let's say ironically, Ceres.

We at the Freezine would like to consider ourselves emissaries to help spread our need for humanity at this current moment in time to freely value sharing our passions together, openly over this extensive networking tool known as the world wide web. Thus, our experimental blog and online fanzine has parselborne the ancient practice of storytelling for its own sake into a new fruition as dark and bright as ever graced the leaves of the old rotting compost heap of books. 

For we ourselves are the unending double-twined helix of encoded message—the twining serpent—humanity, we of the slithering tongue, entrusted with the imperial task of reminding us all we are the only protectors and custodians tasked with seeing to it the sustainable diversity of our flourishing ecosystem continues to be maintained. The cautionary tales collected here will remain to both entertain and to hiss out the necessary warnings and aphorisms to future generations.  Take care... 

On to the twenty-two poems showcased by twelve different writers over the course of the month of September, 2018, which together form the table of contents of this, our Dream & Reality issue of the Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.  The images beneath the titles and author's bylines hyperlink directly to the poems in the Freezine itself. +Click+

Preface

by Keith Graham

image by Predictive Science, Inc. 

War of the Orb

by Shaun Lawton

art by Prince Satyrn

A Prince in the Kingdom of Ghosts

by John Shirley

art by Prince Satyrn

The Hidden Door

by Adam Bolivar

art by Shasta Lawton

In Fits of Wildest Dreaming

by KA Opperman

art by Drew Roulette

The Devouring Serpent

by Shaun Lawton

Walking on Water

by Sheikha A.

art by Drew Roulette

Absinthia

by KA Opperman

art by Drew Roulette

The Sad Tale of Suzy Yen

by Johnny Strike

art by Drew Roulette

A Clear Midnight

by Walt Whitman

The Geniture Mill

by Shaun Lawton

art by Jeanne-Pierre Luminet

Time To Be Clear

by Bonnie 'Prince' Billy

art by Lori Damiano

Wordless Whisperer

by John Shirley

art by Drew Roulette

Moon-Tropes

by Sheikha A.

art by Drew Roulette

The Creeping Glass

by Shaun Lawton

art by Drew Roulette

Wanderers 

by Phoenix

art by Jason Barnett

The Fungal Nymph

by KA Opperman

art by Jason Barnett

Medusa Finds Love

by Sheikha A.

art by Suvojit Banerjee

Fear

by Hart Crane

art by Jason Barnett

Midnight in the Ebon Rose Bower

by KA Opperman

art by Jason Barnett

A Sorceress's Final Vision

by Ashley Dioses

art by Jason Barnett

Aeaea's Moon

by Gene Stewart

art by Drew Roulette

The Dream & Reality issue could not possibly have been assembled into its fabulous configuration if it weren't for the participation of its contributors, for whose willingness to share their work on this utility network with us we remain forever grateful. 

A genuine thank you from deep within goes out to everyone who contributed to the poems this issue for us to read and ponder over in order to share them together online should we so feel inclined. Thanks, Keith Graham, for daring to send out your poem because it served perfectly as the preface to this issue, which I dubbed the "Dream & Reality issue" for lack of a better theme to which contributors might aim for. I wanted our net to be cast as open, far and wide as possible, so I thought of the most inclusive guidelines I could come up with, and figured "dream and reality should just about cover it."  After all the submissions came in and were sorted out, the gems collected here have fashioned an extraordinary issue. 

Thanks to John Shirley for contributing two excellent pieces which help set the stage for what comes ahead. His talent for penning lyrics comes through loud and clear. Both poems he's offered us help expand the parameters of our three-ring-psychus.  I think they'd make great Blue Öyster Cult songs. I can't begin to thank John enough for his continued enthusiasm and support of our creative endeavor here on this blog. Without you, John, this webzine would most likely have never gotten off the ground in the first place.  

Thanks to Johnny Strike for sending me the poem, it's a gift plain and simple dropped into our cup and I'll say more than just a tip of the hat goes out to the late Mr. Strike, I say without him adding a spike of insolent venom into the stew here, reminding us of the sure-footed street spirit that runs a mean streak through this zine, well without Johnny Strike's contributions this place would rock considerably less.  I'll always remember my online correspondence with him fondly, and with a feeling of real friendship, to which I'll toast with every future Mai Tai that I'll ever have the pleasure of drinking here on this earth.  

Thank you, Adam Bolivar, for your wonderful contribution to our issue. I daresay it distinguishes the table while elevating the contents to a degree otherwise unobtainable without your august services, which, might I add, are of the highest caliber. It's wonderful to get another peek into your word-mirror and catch a glimpse of old Jack staring back at us.  

Thanks as well to Sheikha A for taking a chance hosting your poems on our eccentric webzine, and I'm additionally grateful for your willingness to conjure a poem for Suvojit Banerjee's illustration. The resulting poem and drawing really blend in well with everything else. All three of your poems bring a mystique to this issue which make a direct connection to a powerful underlying theme that has slithered through our beings and the universe itself for as long as memory holds, and I remain grateful we made this connection together to share here with the world. Drew's imagery really helped bring out the subtext into stark contrast and bring home its underlying significance to our devoted readers.  

A sincere thanks goes out to KA Opperman, your four poems serve as the foundational stonework by which our fortress remains supported. Your presence adds considerable heft to all this enterprise and strangely, allows it the buoyancy it needs to achieve astral flight. Without your particular skill of wordcraft, this vessel would be losing the altitude it needs for a stratospheric launch. You, dear interlocutor of minds, have proven invaluable toward our achieving orbit on a level with the ISS.  

Thank you Ashley Dioses for gifting our issue with your dazzling poem.  It integrates with the remaining works to form an arresting portrait of the dizzying scope by which our imaginations may come to possess us.  It has been a real honor for me and our host of readers to have you and Mr. Opperman aboard our sleek craft of confabulations. 

Thanks to my friend Phoenix, aka The Street Kid, for your wonderful contribution to this revivalist issue of the Freezine. Without your burning spirit these wings would never have risen to take flight. You're an essential ingredient in the incandescent fuel that helped blast our ship into space. 

For the last of the writers, thanks goes out to Gene Stewart for his mythopoetic contribution, Aeaea's Moon, which together with a particular painting of Drew Roulette's managed to shed deeper illumination into the burgeoning context of what transpires when our imaginations conjure up dreams, something which continues to elude our clear understanding to this day but which may best be described as having resulted in, over the long term, our reality. 

Thanks to an echo of the diminishing shade of Hart Crane for moving me to recognize some of my favorite early poems of his have just slipped into the public domain. The poem Fear was always a favorite of mine, and I think Jason Barnett's illustration complements it very well.  Additional thanks goes out to the echoing ghost of Walt Whitman, whose poem A Clear Midnight I present as an homage in the wake of Johnny Strike's passing, a memorial to him and a testament to his standing with us. See you on the other side, Johnny. 

Thanks to NASA and Alexander Gerst for their stunning contributing photo of our planet's cloudscape from the ISS.  Predictive Science Inc. developed a numerical model that simulated what the corona would look like during the Aug. 21, 2017, total solar eclipse. The composite image used for Keith Graham's Preface poem was generated from photographs taken on the day of the total eclipse to the model’s predictions. Credits: Predictive Science Inc./Miloslav Druckmüller, Peter Aniol, Shadia Habbal/NASA Goddard, Joy Ng.  

Thanks to Prince Satyrn for having provided the accompanying visual images for my own broken sonnet War of the Orb  and John Shirley's lyrical A Prince in the Kingdom of Ghosts. Your art found its optimal match in our poems in ways that touch on the uncanny. Your visionary art style fits the Freezine so well that I hope you continue collaborating with us for many issues to come.  

Thanks to my wife Shasta for the old freezine image of the silver key used in Adam Bolivar's The Hidden Door (it comes from the buried archive of Weird Jack art still in our reserves). She remains one of the original core artists for the Freezine, and her signature style has become a familiar imprint among the wild stream of issues we've generated. With more good luck and focus I'm sure there will be more where that came from.  

Thank you to Suvojit Banerjee for the illustration accompanying Sheikha A's Medusa Finds Love. This is a particular favorite of ours and really blends in with the rest of the scenery. There's an emotional directness to the sketch that really helps frame all the associative elements within the greater context of our meta-narrative. It stands as yet another fitting puzzle piece in our collaborative jigsaw puzzle of painted words.  

A million colorful shades of gratitude go out to Drew Roulette for letting me run with it, having at first resulted in the imagery for two KA Opperman poems: In Fits of Wildest Dreaming, and Absinthia. Drew's vivid art also accompanied two poems by Sheikha A: Walking on Water and Moon-Tropes. His unique style then fit extremely well for poems contributed by both John Shirley (Wordless Whisperer) and the late Johnny Strike (The Sad Tale of Suzy Yen). Lastly, Drew's singular vision worked perfectly at both underscoring a sense from my own poem The Creeping Glass in addition to complementing Gene Stewart's closing piece, Aeaea's Moon, in subtle and effective ways.  For those of you unfamiliar with Drew's fantastical talent for painting, visit his website and check out what he has in stock. Take note: Drew plays bass for one of the best modern alternative rock bands out there, Dredg from Los Gatos, California. If you haven't listened to their uplifting signature style of heavy alternative music, head over to YouTube and check any song of theirs. I've seen them live at least ten times, and they always deliver among the best concerts I've ever witnessed. All of their albums are amazing works of sonic art.  I urge everyone to catch up with Dredg, if you haven't already. 

Thanks to Lori D for having made her images available online for someone like me to make into a zine. It all came together with bonnie prince's song Time to Be Clear, which led me to reading the wolfroy goes to town LP liner notes, where I noticed that bonnie prince was inspired to make the record from a Lori D painting, so I began my search through her online gallery in earnest, trying to see if I could figure out which painting was the one that inspired Will Oldham to make the wolfroy goes to town album, and I became all the richer for it. I did eventually find the painting (I think). Be sure to visit Lori Damiano's online gallery here.  

Which brings me to our final participating artist for this issue, Jason Barnett, of Portland, Oregon. His work has already graced the covers and interior gatefold of Cadabra Records exquisite audial production of Thomas Ligotti's short story The Bungalow House, and we are indebted for his participation in the following adaptations presented here: two KA Opperman poems (The Fungal Nymph and Midnight in the Ebon Rose Bower); Wanderers, by Phoenix; Fear, by Hart Crane; and A Sorceress's Final Vision, by Ashley Dioses. The flow and evolution of these images enhancing the progression of the poems really laid out a strange alternate universe that managed to capture their dark and fantastic elements. Jason also happens to be the frontman for the super heavy deathmetal band Petrification, out of Portland, Oregon. I was lucky enough to witness their live onslaught, and if you're into the oldschool metal with a sick, heavy twist—Jason creates all the band's cover art and T-shirt designs—you should definitely check them out. 

So, huge shout outs to both Jason Barnett and Drew Roulette for rolling with this—our Dream & Reality issue—the twenty-second of the Freezine of Fantasy and Science Fiction to survive since we began compiling these serials together eight years ago. Finally, thank you to the nanoswarm and that cabal of people from the far future who manage to control it; without them, this blog would have never taken root in my mind to begin with.   

 ~Your friendly editor, Shaun Lawton 

"Chief Shamanic," a painting by Drew Roulette

THIS ISSUE DEDICATED TO

GREGORY ALDEN DAVIS

FREDRICK MILO HAYES II

JOHNNY STRIKE

see you next time on

the FREEZINE of

Fantasy and Science

Fiction 

Aeaea's Moon

by Gene Stewart

                                                                    art by Drew Roulette

Follow a trough to The Moon,

Its light a path through veils of mist,

Its shadowed side a lure for unimagined lusts;

Follow light to dark through depths surging.

Waves sloshed on tilted bedrock,

Moving in quakes of our planet’s agony,

Splash over all edges, swamp scupper to bilge,

Pumped out only to seek entry again,

Such waves rock us, roll us over, sink us

In plunges away from air’s freedom

Toward pressured depths massively surging; 

Unstable ocean bed bounces skyward.

Frames twist, decking planks rattle, sails

Shred with bat-flap shrieks, a gale upon us,

Keel cracks, main mast falls, jibs fly as

Makeshift harpoons as ropes lash us.

Tossed up, falling in slides down steep slopes

Of unsettled water bigger than our ship had been

Before it shattered in hollow hopeless surrender,

We ride out stormy hate, survive rain’s hammering,

Untold tons of ocean fury avalanching onto us,

Each gasp of air a cruel taunt, forced lingering in

Terror’s grip, squeezed beyond endurance until

We find ourselves, so few, afloat, within sight,

Near enough to holler, waving frantic hands.

Swimming to cluster, human jellyfish, sharks

Soon to find us, we hate sun’s burn, shiver

In cold water.  Starving, we suffer thirst.

Smoke on horizons too high, too far for us

To signal, ships passing around us as currents

Drift us farther out of charted channels,

Our one surprise, an atoll, almost an island.

We call it Miracle, this speck of dust floating

In oceanic blind-eye nothingness.  Fresh water,

Coconut palms, crabs, fish, enough wild pigs

To let us husband a farm; we rejoice at life.

No way to reproduce, us few all males, no way

To further this society we have won; another

Cruel taunt of slightly-extended life.  Yet who

In any place is different?  Who is better off?

We’ll live a little, born of the sea, cast-offs with

Faded memories of loved faces, touches, places.

We’ll eke out a few more years, our last to find

A way to bury himself, perhaps at sea, fittingly.

Follow a trough to The Moon,

Its light a path through veils of mist,

Its shadowed side a lure for unimagined lusts;

Follow light to dark through depths surging.

A Sorceress's Final Vision

by Ashley Dioses

                                                                   art by Jason Barnett

The icy moon above spilled light upon

Her skin of porcelain and lips of wine.

Her lavish locks of raven hair were drawn

Away in haste as she now searched her shrine

For signs of doom, yet they were quickly gone.

Her consecrated tools of such great power—

The chalice, wand, athame, and pentacle—

All failed the Sorceress in this late hour;

Anthropomancy, too, a spectacle

Even among grave robbers, had gone sour.

A horrid yet a fleeting glimpse of sights

Of burning reds aroused her from her sleep.

Remnants of it beplagued her like sharp bites

As on cold stones she hastened through her keep.

The phantom flames all vanished with a look;

Screams echoed down the empty corridors.

As she approached her dark, ensanguined book,

The fragments of the fleeting sight she bore

All disappeared; the text all blood had shook.

She scribed what little she remembered, yet

Her memories had vanished like stray wisps

Of mist that trailed away from dawn’s dim threat

Of daylight warmth, which cut the clear night’s crisp.

She stared upon her amethyst volume,

At such a loss as to what more to do.

It was not meant for her to see this doom—

Perhaps the Reaper would collect his due. . . .

art by Jason Barnett

  

Click Below to read the final poem in the

Dream & Reality issue of

the FREEZINE of

Fantasy and Science

Fiction

Aeaea's Moon

by Gene Stewart

Midnight in the Ebon Rose Bower

by KA Opperman

                                                      art (as above, so below) by Jason Barnett

Why am I waking at this witchful hour?—

What succubus enspells with such a power

As to beguile this ebon-rosèd bower?   

I glimpse her nymphish form upon the air, 

A demoness mysterious and fair—    

A scarlet perfume-specter, starlight-rare.  

The roses whisper with their sleepy lips

Black phantasies.... The dew like diamonds drips

From petals played with by her swaying hips....

I ache to clutch her in nocturnal lust,

But I am thwarted as the burning gust

Of my own breath dispels her haunted dust.

Click Below to read: 
 A Sorceress's Final Vision
by Ashley Dioses

on the FREEZINE of

Fantasy and Science

Fiction 

Fear

by Hart Crane

                                                                                       illustration by Jason Barnett







The host, he says that all is well,  
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,—
But on the window licks the night. 

Pile on the logs. . . . Give me your hands,
Friends! No,—it is not fright. . . . 
But hold me . . . somewhere I heard demands. . . . 
And on the window licks the night. 

Click Below to read:
Midnight in the Ebon Rose Bower

by KA Opperman

on the FREEZINE of

Fantasy and Science

Fiction