Churchyard Ezine

The online format for Churchyard poetry magazine, Churchyard E-zine primarily publishes lyric poetry.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Now Accepting Submissions For Second Edition

Churchyard is now accepting submissions for its second edition. Please email submissions or questions to: Thanks to all of those who helped to make the first Churchyard a success; hopefully, the second will be even better. Dan Pirkl

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

New Poetry by Jay Golden

Outside Niceville, Florida: 1997

Like the hide of a rotting carcass,
the trailer’s roof bent beneath the August night’s heat.
Stifled in the smoky backroom crowded with dealers,
whose eyes followed the transfer of money as if bonded
to the green bills, everyone stood
in a corner like even their shadows might stab them
in the back. But our knives stayed in our pockets, forgotten. 

Instead, each handed a tightly rolled blunt
to the next like a priest delivering a sacrament:
smoke rings hovering like haloes above their heads.
Bowed, they thumbed through clipped rolls of money.
And, while they counted the night’s winnings,
I pushed through the crowd of elbows and shoulders, 
chest-puffed, then walked outside to breath the fresh night air. 

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Volume One of Churchyard Finshed and Ready

Churchyard magazine is now available to purchase.
Prices vary, depending on the number of copies sent via mail. 
All prices include standard, 
three-day shipping through the U.S. Postal Service.
One copy: $7
Two copies: $6 each (or twelve $12)
Three or more copies: $5 (or $15+)
For anyone interested, please contact the staff through 
my email address,

for additional copies are $5 each. Please contact me
with the number of additional copies you want before I send out 
your complimentary issue.

Thanks to everyone who has made Volume One possible. 
Additional information on Volume Two will be forthcoming later in June.

Dan Pirkl

Monday, May 23, 2005

New Poetry by Matthew Smith


In this, your last book of poems,
you rendered every former
love as a brilliant-colored fish
in an endless spring. It was a kind
of broad apology you offered them––
a kind of making good
on the long forgotten. But, today,
on the far side of your river
I meant to bring along
your first book. The one
you scribbled in a single winter, thumbing
beer and grease across your notebook
until the pages became transparent. Back
when you were living
in a loft above the river. Back
when all of the loves
of your life were still alive.

Monday, April 11, 2005

New Poem by Ryan James Wilson


I know that you are waiting
for me every time I turn off the lights
like the monsters did when I was a child.

But you are not a giant
green beast with bloody fangs
and grimy claws, blinking in the shadows.
You are not so unapproachable

as an eight foot zombie
with purple skin. You are a woman,
slender, slowly opening the closet doors

and smiling in the darkness
as you show me, held tightly between your teeth,
the gun. You are beneath my bed,

your breasts thrust up against the box-spring:
the terse sounds of the razor on your wrist
slicing the silence as softly as summer rain.

You are lying naked in the empty space
beside me on the comforter—arm flung
across my chest—telling me how
much you love me, knowing I can’t
go on finding excuses forever.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

New Poetry from Suzanne Frischkorn

And Here We Thought the Stain of Bougainvillea

―by ferry on our way to Block Island
   flush out-of-breath from ceremony,

reality tossed on a clamshell driveway.
Yet, grace still elusive—my fingers brush

its tail-end, flashing shiny lacquer—
   as it hovers the Sound.

Honeymoon apparent: white
   petals in my hair, our hands folded

on themselves, sharp creases at the table.
This, long before we realize the patient raven

dances on our roof’s pitch, winks, and waits
   for us at home. Bed & Breakfast

owners cast lots, whisper and laugh
as we cross the sea. What can be lost

in a single day? A hundred hairs, a memory
effacing as it happens, orange maple

leaves, flakes of skin. The arcing light of dying stars. 

Thursday, March 31, 2005

New Anthony Robinson Poem

Five Thoughts for November 23rd.
I will somnambulate to the photograph of your naked back, slightly curved, framed in
flannel, and feel not shame, but relief. I will believe in maps, in red lines.

Make cookies, not babies. This is the working prototype from my new new slogan factory.
I will create many slogans, using open-source technology. Others may originate slogans,
but will not engender them. Boys' slogans and girls' slogans are the same slogans.

Yesterday I found a cell phone in the rain. I took it home and placed it in a basket on the
kitchen counter. Every few hours it vibrates horribly. I turn up the television, smoke
another joint, hunker down.

I dreamt of treading water. I dreamt of taking off my shoes. I believed in a power greater
than you, but not me. When God laughs, it sounds notlike thunder, but small children

Side by side, we are in context. Apart, we make different noises. We require new
costumes for this drama. I already have the fancy shoes. Do you have a pirate shirt

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

New Deadline is April 15th

The new submission deadline is April 15. Please send electronic submissions to A copy of our submission policy can be found by clicking on the "submission guidlines" link on the left side of the page.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

February 27

The submission dealine for the print edition of Churchyard is currently April 2nd. Please look over the guidelines linked to this page. As of March 17th, Churchyard Ezine will begin publishing new work. Thank you, Dan Pirkl