Category Archives: Forum Magazine

“Forks and Knives” by Kevin Sullivan

Forks and Knives

by Kevin Sullivan

feeling romantic
even over graveyards and cigarettes
past my field of vision,
out of my life
these thoughts, counterfeit nostalgia

quiet bedrooms
which I’ve just entered
offer opportunities I’ve never had
(I never will, I can project
legions of fantasies between four walls)
life is a mixture of standstills,
resistance, and falling
the elements will swallow you happily
without fidgeting forks and knives

Calling All Writers and Artists…

Submit your work to:

Forum

City College’s Literary Magazine

At: citylitjournal@gmail.com

Forum was established in 1937 and features the work of students, faculty, staff, and Alumni.

Please send us your best stories, poems, non-fiction pieces, and artwork and be a part of the Bay Area’s thriving literary community. Please include a quick bio, state your connection to City College, and label your work by genre. Images must be at least 300 Dpi. Hard copy submissions can be dropped off/sent to J. Brych at Batmale 564. Deadline is :

February 15, 2011.

Copies of past issues are available at the City College Bookstore and in the English Department (5th floor Batmale Hall). Only $6.00 while supplies last!

You may also view the flyer as a pdf by clicking the link below:

submissionflyerforum

Forum Reading at Rosenberg Library

We would like to announce a reading May 21 at Rosenberg Library to celebrate the unveiling of the Spring issue of Forum. All are invited, contributors are invited to read and receive a free copy of the magazine. There will also be an open mic for everyone else as well as refreshments. So come on down.

Friday, May 21

11:00 am-12:30 pm,

Rosenberg Library Room 304

If You Like Us You Might Also Like…

By Sean Hewitt-Mallet

Do you like the type of work that Forum is doing? Would you like to pursue your literary reading or writing beyond the hallowed gates of the college community? Then may I suggest that you check out the Council of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP).

The CLMP, which has been around in some form or other since the late 1960’s, and has been online in its current form since 2000, was meant as an intersection of independents in the publishing industry, at the CLMP website, located at www.clmp.org , you can find a directory of near a thousand independent literary presses and literary magazines from all over. From the Haight Ashbury Literary Journal  located here in San Francisco, to the Hollyridge Press (http://www.hollyridgepress.com/) in Venice California, the Boston Review (http://bostonreview.net/) which is published out of Massachusetts or even as far as 96inc which at the very least is written in Japanese – just to name a few.

Of course just because it has a large number of diverse magazines and presses in its registry does not mean that there aren’t any that CLMP skipped over; Paris based 3:AM Magazine (http://www.3ammagazine.com/3am/) with its slogan of “Whatever it is, we’re against it” provides fiction, poetry, interviews, critical writing, and non-fiction to its readers, online only, social justice focused, identity theory (http://www.identitytheory.com/), or apparently the oldest surviving online literary magazine ECLECTICA Magazine (http://www.eclectica.org/) are all  seemingly missing from the CLMP database.

So if you are a writer or a reader and you want to do more of either keep your eyes open, because there are plenty of opportunities out there to expand your literary world.

“this ain’t no mecca” by Ayo Khensu-Ra

this ain’t no mecca

by Ayo Khensu-Ra

the line spreading out in the dark
drawing itself under the car past
denny’s and white castle, gas stations

huddling together under rough
bristles of an old gray blanket
Toyota van our walls
the prairie and marching rock
rising beyond the windows
slipping away toward the wide
darkening sea

clouds flushed
with light like blood
playing through
the latticework
of our palms

music booms out into the night
the van stands in another parking lot
and you talk about the pad of paper
you left at home, the gray-black
murmurings of your hands
the whisperings of your hands, of
ink and charcoal, of pad and pencil

day stumbles on to day, you say
how lovely the sunset is out past the bridge
past Land’s End, when the misty wall breaks
and the bounds of the world are again boundless.

I pick up a package of our things
papers calling like white sails from the sea
calling like the windy heights of home
and I know we’ll drive, ramps and
buildings sprawling out below, planes
drawing invisible lines in the sky

listen to echoes of announcements
wait in black chairs
listen for embraces

we’ll turn
I’ll turn
back to my van, back to Gilman
or farther and farther south
or to islands in the ocean

“Doctors, Gods” by Evan Jones

Doctors, Gods

by Evan Jones

White mice, white
90 degree coat edges
below knees-I have
a history of
not trying to have
a history
with them,
if you know what I mean.
never could get too
comfortable as they always seemed a little
too comfortable with
me, my flesh me,
and its theoretical, but still
entirely possible
end.

What will I do
if and when
they should begin
living
in the next room
of this
and every other
house
after it
from now on?