Category Archives: CPR Volume 15, Issue 1

Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 1, January 2013

Ring Dance
by Adrienne Drobnies

It’s possible we once danced by the light of the solstice moon,
runcible drunk, hunched over streetcar tracks to flatten a penny—
the only coin we had to offer against a thundering weight.
We don’t know whether passion will be renewed
at the same address on Ossington Avenue, where ceiling plaster
sprinkled our hair like crumbly feta, garnish to the salt stink of pleasure.
Can we count on postal carriers to negotiate a contract for delivery of nothing
but billets doux and arrangements for assignations at sea?
Will the local library lend us its volumes on love
so thigh to thigh we can sit down again
to read instructions for how to fill an empty vessel?
Will we flip to the page with the pop-up mast,
and lash ourselves to it, each siren to the other?
However demented we become, the moon will shift its light
all night on the water and twist itself into rings
we bought for one flattened penny.

Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 1.

Adrienne Drobnies grew up in Texas and California. She is a graduate of The Writer’s Studio at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver. Some of the journals where her poetry has appeared include The Toronto Quarterly, Scrivener, The Sow’s Ear Review, Popshot, and Ibbetson Street. Her long poem, “Randonnées,” was a finalist for the Canadian Broadcasting Company (CBC) literary award for poetry in 2009. Her website is

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Tending the Fire,
by Brian Simoneau

There are stars so far away

their light has yet to reach us

and when it finally shines

on us, the stars themselves

will have already fizzled out.

The things of this world

never go away—matter’s

neither created nor destroyed.

A log in the fireplace, hushed

voices in the night, you can see

the universe at work: a knot pops,

becomes smoke, heat, light, ash.

It’s said that the dead live on

in the memories of the living.

That’s also where they’re always

leaving. Sparks bursting bear little

likeness to the smoldering

piles of morning’s first light.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 1.

Brian SimoneauBrian Simoneau’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Boulevard, Cave Wall, The Collagist, Crab Orchard Review, DIAGRAM, The Georgia Review, North American Review, Salamander, and other journals. His work is also included in Two Weeks: A Digital Anthology of Contemporary Poetry. He lives in Boston with his wife and their two young daughters.

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Gauguin’s Tahitians at the Impressionist Exhibit, by Adela Najarro

This is a poem about love that does not focus. This unfocused poem
mentions how hands imprinted themselves on my ribcage, how we fell
into cracked concrete near the museum, how molecular cell division
led to an entrance. There were pigeons in rain, then jeweled paint
on canvas. We sang of desire, the desire to grow old and paint landscapes:
cliffs open to a raging sea that breaks past fog and wind—an homage

to Gauguin’s pre-Tahiti phase. His cliffs were swatches of orange, paired
above a cavernous gray churning crash of sea against rocks—angel’s wings
mid-fall, the fall from grace open in a joyous flutter against the tumultuous
unknown. The cliffs remain cast in a startled phase: angels open
and waiting, those angels taking in the sea, the sea enveloped by its own
gravity, the rocks crying. The painting moves in my mind, not staying still.

We, too, will become old. Gauguin ended sitting in sand. The Tahitian girls,
behind, to the left. Distant and away. All lovely women have lives
of their own. The Tahitians kept themselves unknowable and did not pay
heed to the swirls engulfing Eden, to Gauguin’s tussled hair, to his hungry
eyes ravishing their skin. He was the Western world. Ready to paint,
to capture living myth and mythos, he settled into his own solitary heart.


Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 15, Issue 1.

Adela Najarro’s poetry has appeared in numerous journals and can be found in the University of Arizona Press anthology The Wind Shifts: New Latino Poetry. She currently chairs the English department at Cabrillo College and is on the board of directors for Poetry Santa Cruz. Her poems have appeared in Puerto del Sol, Feminist Studies, Notre Dame Review, Nimrod International Journal of Poetry & Prose, Blue Mesa Review, Crab Orchard Review, ACM: Another Chicago Magazine, and elsewhere.

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Adela Najarro