Welcome Eager Readers! (And Writers)

Here you will find prose and poems (plus occasional announcements by staff) published in The Toucan literary magazine, a small but mighty zine-y lit mag from Chicago and two probably clinically insane Columbia College students. We publish well-written, sometimes serious, sometimes zany pieces that we, the editrices (yes, we are editrices, we like the sound of that) would want to read. No, seriously, we mean the last part. Emerging writers are more than welcome (we're still emerging ourselves), and so is Joyce Carol Oates. We only encourage you to submit something you enjoyed writing, that you think deserves to make friends with other fantastic word creations...and ask that you read at least part of our magazine before you submit.

On that note, all issues can be found under the heading "Previous Issues" in the right-hand corner of your screen. The first or second post should be a Table of Contents which are links to that particular piece. Once you've finished it, you can click the back arrow of your browser to reach the TOC or on "Older Posts" to keep plowing forward. And PLEASE feel free to comment about what you particularly appreciated. If you're a big fan, become a follower of the blog. Find us on Facebook too.

Enjoy, and Viva La Toucan!

Liz and Laura, Toucan Editrices

Friday, February 11, 2011

Poem of the Week--I'm Wearing A Mirror, Antique-Victor Godot

Wait no longer, friends....ba dum tisch. More practically, the Canadian Issue will be up very, very soon (it may appear on the 16th rather than the 15th due to scheduling issues, but we'll try to get it up on time. And Godot says he will be here tomorrow, so make of that what you will. ). Meanwhile, savor the reflection and the poetry.


I’m wearing a mirror, antique


by Victor Godot


I’m wearing a mirror, antique
amber-browning, suitable,
wrapped ’round me – sometimes
still flashing by counterclockwise.


That’s where we seek guidance
with a twisted coin to decide for us,
like misses Rubenstein, or Dee-Dee
Cambodia, tuning times in their minds.


Now and then I dream I control
your eyes, to warm-up your drops,
dress you up in a sarong


dyed in colours and patterns to match
your lighted face – let’s pretend we’re
on a dance, while we’re just walking away.
Posted by at 3:32 PM
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1 comments:

  1. I enjoyed the coin images, and the final two lines: excellent!

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