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The BEST OMD (Online Music Distributor) for INDIES (MUST be - WE are there):

Improvijazzation Nation poetry - Issue # 69

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ALL artists!  I am very, VERY happy to announce that IMPROVIJAZZATION NATION is ACCEPTING SUBMISSIONS again.  I have been granted a (possibly long-term) stay of execution for my trip to Iraq.  I will still  be traveling all over the U.S., so new issues may be a little less timely, but (as always), we will review your materials as soon as possible after we receive them.  Look at the guidelines for submission below, please:


MUSIC:  All formats accepted.  Snail mail to:  Zzaj Productions, c/o Dick Metcalf, 5308 65th Avenue, Lacey, WA 98513  The only criteria for music you submit is that it MUST HAVE high performance energy... if you submit lacklustre material, it will be reviewed accordingly

POETRY:  Poems are accepted for publication ONLY via e-mail.  Poems submitted in any other fashion will NOT be published.  Poetry that includes some reference to music is granted first priority for publication.

BOOKS:  We will review some books; books about music are PREFERRED.  We will NOT return any books submitted for review.  Snail them to the address listed above for MUSIC.

DIY Announcements:  We will post your (e-mailed) ad about DIY projects, regardless of genre or medium... HOWEVER, this is ONLY for INDEPENDENTS... if you are a corporation, don't even BOTHER sending stuff... it will be marked and reported as SPAM!


Yesterday's Appeal

Worn apologies fall

from the sky like a

cliché.  The beach storms,

unquenched.  In patches you

cannot fathom daylight, no

desire to find sun, sky moves


wait through drops delivered

by today, I see you

soaked, uncomfortable, like

the waves beneath rocking

us further from safety,

embarrassing the

puddles at my feet.



The Banquet


I climb to your

table and plunge

into your feast.


I struggle to

make it down

to your plate - but,

as I approach the

banquet ends.


The guests

Rise from their

seats, and I

cannot get to






The smoke smell sticks

to my skin in the cold.

It takes me to where

she was that night.

As I approached

her weeping, whimpering,

shaking form, I asked

the crowd What

was the matter?  A faceless

man turned to me and

whispered "She just said

she wanted to cry tonight."



submitted by:  Emily E. Schulten, 374 Barber St., Athens, GA 30601








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