“Eau de Bohemia” by Susan Hayden

(for Philomene Long, in beloved memory)
“It will be apparent that it is difficult
to discern which properties each thing
possesses in reality.”
(Democritus, 8th century B.C.)
pixbyamelia copy

If you were a perfume, it would be Earthy,
the top note a forest blend
that would descend into oakmoss
and fresh mown grass,
a mercurial bath of Irish whiskey.
It would smell like your dreams,
the ripening of first fruit
and bloodroot
with heart notes of orange groves;
Los Angeles,
before the permanent roads.
The dry down would reveal
cracked leather and lavender rose,
poetry and prose as a saltwater path
toward the Boardwalk sun;
at once a yearning and a leap
of heat meets alchemy.
Your scent would be worn
by both peasants and royalty:
Slaves to the half-open window,
queens beneath the arch of the doorway,
counting the days in sighs
while memorizing escape routes.
Eau de Bohemia:
A tenacious fragrance
with a lasting theme
and a dreamy aroma that lingers.
The wearer will feel signs and seasons.
The wearer will feel worthy of anointment,
with good reason.
© 2008

Top 50 books by Women Writers


Photo by LadyHawk

1. The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir
2. The Women’s Room by Marilyn French
3. The Yellow Wallpaper and Other Stories by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
4. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
5. The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson
6. them by Joyce Carol Oates
7. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
8. Beloved by Toni Morrison
9. Oranges are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson
10. Forever by Judy Blume
11. The Madcap of the School by Angela Brazil
12. The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall
13. Delta of Venus by Anais Nin
14. Blood and Guts in High School by Kathy Acker
15. Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center by bell hooks
16. The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean Auel
17. Push by Sapphire
18. Bring up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel
19. The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein
20. South Riding by Winifred Holtby
21. Circle of Friends by Maeve Binchy
22. The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver by Edna St. Vincent Millay
23. The Other Boleyn Girl by Phillipa Gregory
24. The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan
25. Fear of Flying by Erica Jong
26. We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver
27. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
28. The Dialectic of Sex by Shulamith Firestone
29. White Teeth by Zadie Smith
30. The Secret History by Donna Tartt
31. Gigi by Colette
32. A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O’Connor
33. The Awakening by Kate Chopin
34. Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice
35. On Lies, Secrets & Silence by Adrienne Rich
36. The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole aged 13 ¾ by Sue Townsend
37. The Story of Tracy Beaker by Jacqueline Wilson
38. The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader by Joan Nestle
39. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
40. Live or Die by Anne Sexton
41. The Naughtiest Girl in the School by Enid Blyton
42. Suite Francaise by Irène Némirovsky
43. The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
44. Enough Rope by Dorothy Parker
45. The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
46. The Progress of Love by Alice Munro
47. The Disposessed by Ursula K. Le Guin
48. The Story of O by Pauline Réage
49. SCUM Manifesto by Valerie Solanas
50. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood


“Gluten Free Romance
Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder”
what drove me to him besides my car?
all those miles of ric-rack
sucking on wintergreen tic-tacs.
the Tequila went down easy
and so did my panties.
his closet was as big as my apartment.
his starched shirts stood at attention.
his obsession to detail screamed
run for your life little Bo Peep.
counting sheep was futile…
his breathing was cast iron.
I took a leave of absinthe
and tip toed down the cushy
carpeted stairs.
the high ceilings made me giddy,
the 3 car garage was also a nice touch,
really packed a punch on my “what if” list.
so much for reciting poetry
while eating salami and brie.
Photo & Poem by

The Rapp Saloon is Proud to Present…

Alexis Rhone Fancher and Lisa K Thayer In an All New 2-Woman Show,
“2 Hot L.A. Poets Bare Their . . . Souls”
Friday, January 24th
8:30 P.M. at Hosteling International, 1436 2nd St. in Santa Monica
Open-Mic to Follow
Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher
Alexis Rhone Fancher
Alexis Rhone Fancher is an L.A. based poet/photographer whose work can or soon will be found in Rattle, Fjords Review, The MacGuffin, Deep Water Literary Journal, BoySlut,  HighCoupe, Gutter Eloquence, GoodMen Project, Bare Hands, Poetry Super Highway, The Juice Bar, Poeticdiversity, Little Raven, Bukowski On Wry, numerous anthologies, and elsewhere. Her photographs, published world-wide, include a spread in HEArt Online, and the covers of Witness and The Mas Tequila Review. A member of Jack Grapes’ L.A.Poets and Writers
Collective, Alexis was nominated for two Pushcart Prizes in 2013. She is poetry editor of
Lisa K Thayer
Lisa Thayer is an award winning stage actress, Member of The Actor’s Studio,
Photographer & Poet, Creator of The Poetry Juice Bar Website, Reads her poetry around LA, including Poetry In Motion at Beyond Baroque
Library Girl at The Ruskin Theatre & many other venues. She is also a member of Jack Grapes’ L.A.Poets and Writers Collective.

“on higher heels” by LadyHawk


bad boys
lickety split
up my center and down
my spine
tingle me, shackle me
singe me, cringe me
wicked boys
yes, I have been their
wind up toy
roll me over
unlike a four leaf clover
unlucky in love
yes, you are the ones
I shave my legs for
open, open, open
pound on the door frenzy
you don’t deserve me
but I have served myself up
on your king size platter
it didn’t matter
I didn’t matter
what was the matter
with me?
eat me, deplete me, complete me
you are not worthy
but I will step right up
and be your tattooed lady
brand me, stick me, prick me
lick me like candy
chug me, drug me, hug me
charm me, creep me, crawl me
I love you,
all of you
that got away
thank God you got away
and I am still standing
on higher heels
and it feels
oh…so good
© 2014
Photo by LadyHawk

Alicia Young


given enough bourbon and a decent suit
i could hurt myself with you
given enough bourbon
and a decent suit city lights
drawing down the moon
on a properly placed back in time
saturday night if you didn’t remind so damned much
of my first husbandback then i could claim being 16
a ran away to the real world too soon
starry eyed twat
with straight A’s
and no street smarts
unable to discern the difference
between a pedophile and a suitori’m a daily communicant with that mistake

no, baby, lesson learned
you’re a used car lot wearing armani shoes
a lizard brain
in a gold chain
forked tongue slipping past
your greasy lips
you smell like turpentine
and unpaid child support

(C)aayoung | January 4, 2014

Happy Thanks & Giving from The Juice Bar!!

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thanksgiving fruits photo: Happy Thanksgiving 0vngethkgwbp_zps128376b6.gif

“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself…then have an apple cider martini with cinnamon and sugar on the rim. Making the desserts first. Bourbon balls, bourbon cupcakes, pumpkin pie, and pecan bars. Then there’s the shoving of my arm elbow deep into a dead bird, then coating it with oil, which, in some Amish man’s head, is porn. White trash green beans (the dried onions are even cheddar this year, oh the humanity) and sour cream mashed potatoes. Rolls. Grape almond stuffing. The twins are making the homemade butter in Mason jars with heavy whipping cream and sea salt. And the gravy, always the gravy between us, Leonard…(Tips her hat to Virginia Woolf) Happy Thanksgiving to everyone I love, which is most of you, and to those I don’t, I’ll endeavor to find a way. A toast…to absent friends.”

Wanda Coleman – R.I.P.

th th-1

In That

Other Fantasy





by Wanda Coleman

we were never caught

we partied the southwest, smoked it from L.A. to El Dorado 
worked odd jobs between delusions of escape
drunk on the admonitions of parents, parsons & professors 
driving faster than the road or law allowed. 
our high-pitched laughter was young, heartless & disrespected 
authority. we could be heard for miles in the night

the Grand Canyon of a new manhood. 
womanhood discovered
like the first sighting of Mount Wilson

we rebelled against the southwestern wind 

we got so naturally ripped, we sprouted wings, 
crashed parties on the moon, and howled at the earth 

we lived off love. It was all we had to eat

when you split you took all the wisdom
and left me the worry