Volume I Issue I Summer 2022 Audience Askew Literary Journal Mission A t Audience Askew , we like the strange, quirky, and unique — aim ing to find thought - provoking stories , engaging poetry , and distinctive art work th at doesn’t quite fit in anywhere else We welcome new and established authors , poets, and artists worldwide who want to showcase their talents to an audience just as askew as they are. Volume 1 | Issue 1 | Summer 2022 www. A udience A skew.com The rights of the works of poetry, prose, and art included in this issue of Audience Askew remain with their creators. No portion of this magazine may be reproduced without permission from the artists. Audience Askew Literary journal is a publication of Nat 1, LLC. www.nat1publishing.com Editorial Board Brandan Roberts , Michaela Butler , Dahlia Thomas , Jason Willard Death Breathes Life that Nurtures Death Serge Lecomte Front cover art 30x40 in, acrylic and ink. 2021. Contents Since Sappho is Gone Poem by Olivia Lee 07 Don’t be a Stranger Prose by Alan Keith 08 Untitled Art by West Isle Virus 1 4 Carolina Will One Day Dance in Fading Rockies Poem by Dan Wagner 1 5 Solo with Vodka Tonic Poem by Dani Kuntz 1 6 Her Eyes Watching Gods Art by H.I. Suell 1 7 Convergent, Concurrent, Contemporaneous Prose by Andy Betz 1 8 The Way Back Art by Leslie D. Soule 2 2 hot mess Poem by RC deWinter 2 3 Recipe for Anxiety Poem by Steve Garson 2 4 Winter Garden Art by Alexey Adonin 2 5 Lonely by the Hearthstone Prose by Jules Vasquez 2 6 Easy Poem by Tamara Nasution 2 9 Jellyfish Art by Serge Lecomte 2 9 Abstract Portrait 5.1.2022 Art by Hanna Wright 30 Contributors 31 // Audience \ \ 7 // Askew \ \ Windswept Audience Askew Photograph. 2019. Since Sappho is Gone Olivia Lee Silence reigns since Sappho is gone. Once her words grew wild, taller than thyme, under a wide and wind - grown tree, which offered sparse shade but much admiration — Once her honeyed hands divined and divided truth from the lyre, as the split - lipped lies of false loves spilled saffron - like among the cinnamon scented arch of her footfall — Once her songs went sweeping over stone steps in an intricately syllabled rhythm, which taught the young to hold beauty and wisdom in old age, open palms, and parted lips Since Sappho is gone, even the stones have lapsed into silence. Her songs sacrificed to appease — not gods but men. // Audience \ \ 8 // Askew \ \ Don’t Be A Stranger Alan Keith 1 The first time I saw Leopold Otis Ward III was when I went to get a tea from Tim Hortons. I’d been avoiding the Tim’s closest to my house ever since Amy started working there. She wasn’t a bad person, but I preferred to think my own thoughts rather than endure her small talk while waiting for my drink to brew. My last time there, the manager caught her sneaking me a donut I wasn’t even hungry for. The situation was awkward for all three of us. I hadn’t been back since. It didn’t matter anyway; the Tim Hortons at Pape Subway Station wasn’t far and had th e same late - night hours. As they brewed a fresh pot of steeped tea, I found a copy of NOW Magazine . I only ever picked it up for the back page, where people asked sex - related questions to an honest and shameless expert. They were some of the funniest things I’d read and very interesting. Once, a guy wrote in asking about a dildo he could mount on his n ose so he could anally penetrate his girlfriend while she sat on his face. Another time, a straight, married man confessed he’d been getting the best blowjobs of his life from a male co - worker for years and wondered if he should tell his wife or just conti nue enjoying himself. I hadn’t finished the page when my tea was ready, so I tucked the paper under my arm, took the drink, and left. The tea was too hot to sip, but I did anyway, burning my tongue. I cut diagonally through Withrow Park just as the final f ew kids left the playground with their Filipino nannies. There was nothing to see in the ice rink except a small puddle that had refused to dry with the afternoon sun, so I kept going. In the middle of the park, I heard a soft crash. A few seconds later, t he sound repeated, albeit slightly louder. It came from the cement patch that people used as a makeshift volleyball court. On the concrete, a kid a bit older than me stepped onto his skateboard. He was a mere silhouette backlit by Carlaw Avenue, but I watc hed with intrigue. The skater rolled slightly on the board, then slammed his back foot down. The deck popped up, but he stumbled back and fell softly on his butt. The guy was trying to ollie, his curly hair shaking with every attempt. But he wasn’t letting the board properly pop into the air, so he could never lift the back wheels off the ground. I wasn’t an expert by any means, but I could at least ollie. My friend Nick had started to teach me when the snow melted but gave up when I plateaued. Skating was fun to try, but it was too late for me to get good at it; I couldn’t do any tricks on the board and never would. My natural balance and footwork — things that helped me in wrestling and hockey — were completely nullified on wheels. He tried another jump, fell hard, and examined his elbow. Still sitting on the ground, he caught my eye. “You okay?” I asked, obligated to say something. // Audience \ \ 9 // Askew \ \ Standing, he dusted himself off. The boy wore a light brown V - neck and khaki shorts that had small, unrecognizable logos. Up close , a bit of dark stubble could be seen running along his jawline. “Yeah, thanks.” He had a slight British accent, as though he’d spent time there. “Just learning?” I asked, pointing at the board. He picked it up and examined the deck as if he’d never seen i t before, bright eyes scanning for defects. “I am.” He placed the board at his feet and met my eye, then rolled it over to me with a light kick. “Can you teach me?” Setting my tea and newspaper down, I moved to the open space. “I’m new myself, but I can so rta ollie.” Doing it the way Nick taught me, I slammed my back foot down while sliding my front foot up to catch the board as it hopped. The deck went high, but it got away, making me land on the cement instead of the board. “That was brilliant!” He dashed to retrieve the board. “Marvelous! Really, how did you — say, show me again, will you?” Thinking he was pulling my leg, I really focused, got the board in motion, jumped, and landed cleanly. It was probably the best one I’d ever done. Too bad Nick hadn’t se en it. “Perfect!” He closed the distance and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Leopold. Leopold Otis Ward the T hird.” I gave my name as we shook hands. Leopold was tall, sinewy, and very tanned — especially for early June. His beige cotton belt matched his shoes, which were spotless. I wondered if he knew that skating would ruin them. He tried a couple more ollies but still wasn’t letting the deck jump into the air after he slammed the tail down. “You gotta slide your front foot more lightly. Does that make sense? If you’re too heavy on it, the board can’t really get off the ground.” Leopold listened like my words had value, then set his board on the cement. He stood on it, gave me a quick nod, then bent down and really went for it. The board popped high but slipped out from under him on the landing. It rolled over my tea and onto the grass. “That was good,” I cheered, running into the darkness after the board. It was the best I’d seen him do. “I’ve toppled your coffee!” “No worries.” “I’m so sorry. I owe ya one.” I picked up my spilled cup and took a sip from what remained. “It’s still half - full. You owe me, like, eighty cents.” Leopold’s laughter carried through the open space of the park. It wasn’t a brightly lit park, and we were near the middle of it, so we had t he illusion of privacy. “You’ll see that money, Jimmie. You can count on reimbursement. We’ll have to meet again, right? If I’m to give you the money.” “If that’s the case, I’ll bring my board so we can have another practice.” I didn’t own a skateboard — I j ust used Nick’s when I was with him. But it wouldn’t be hard to get something to skate on when I met with Leopold again. “That’s the spirit!” // Audience \ \ 10 // Askew \ \ Spirit, brilliant, marvelous, toppled . Leopold sounded like he was fifty years old, but I liked it. There was a ch arm to his intelligent yet somewhat childish demeanor. “What’s your cell?” I gulped. “Don’t have one.” “No bother. Cell phones are junk, anyhow.” Leopold didn’t miss a beat. He filled silences with the grace of a seasoned radio host. “You’re a neighborhood guy, aren’t you?” I nodded. “You’ll be hard to avoid, then.” Taking turns ollieing, we critiqued each other’s technique. After twenty minutes, Leopold had gotten as good as I was when we met, and I’d improved considerably. Switching it up, we tried doing manuals across the concrete. I was able to balance better, but neither of us could maintain the trick over the small crack in the center of our stage. “Why’d you start skating?” I asked after he failed another stunt. I’d already explained how Nick got me i nto it, but Leopold hadn’t told his story. He held the board against his hip and studied me with those bright eyes. “Because a man needs to expand his repertoire before it’s too late; before he becomes rigid with habit and can’t learn new concepts or skill s.” Leopold rolled the board ahead of himself and tried hopping on it, but it slipped out from under him. He fell fast, with one leg awkwardly folding beneath him. It was the first hard fall either of us had taken, so I waited for his reaction before I lau ghed it off. Leopold stayed on the ground in absolute silence. “You alright, man?” I walked over and stood above him. My new friend was smiling, staring at the half moon. “I’ve been meaning to learn a new language.” He stuck a hand up; I used it to hoist h im to his feet. “But I don’t know which language to learn.” “Go for French,” I suggested. “I’ve heard teachers say it’s the ticket to a government job.” Leopold inspected the new little scrape on his elbow. “I already know French. I was thinking of Spanish or Italian.” He met my eye. “Or I’ll just take the easy route and learn sign language.” He winked, then retrieved his board and rolled it over to me. “Sounds difficult.” I ollied but couldn’t stay balanced on the landing and had to bail. “That’s why I mus t learn now! I can’t do it at forty. There’d be no way. My brain is spongier now than it ever will be again. The present is imperative! I don’t wanna look back on my life and think I’ve squandered all my opportunities for growth.” Leopold was thinking furt her ahead in life than I ever had, so I wasn’t sure what to say. He struck me as someone who captained his school’s trivia club, yet also like a guy who could win a student - council election or even make a varsity team. I mean, he spoke like he’d authored a thesaurus, yet here he was, skating with me and scraping his skin on bails. He was a bit nerdy, that was certain, but he wasn’t covered with knee pads and a helmet. “How about yourself?” he asked after a small ollie. “Other than skateboarding, is there an ything spontaneous you want to learn? Anything you wanna add to your arsenal of knowledge?” Giving myself time, I gazed around the park, which had gotten as dark as it ever would. I wanted to answer honestly, but also wanted to impress him. Yet I couldn’t find the balance between the two. Everything was either too insignificant (like learning to juggle) or wildly unfathomable (like sailing around the world). I didn’t want to copy him and pick a language. But what did I want to learn? // Audience \ \ 11 // Askew \ \ “I always thought it would be cool to go to a different city and stay there for a week. But, you know, as a homeless person. I think it would be cool – I mean, interesting. It’d be a good way to learn about the city.” Leopold was staring at me like a teacher during a presentat ion, so I kept rambling to earn marks. “You’d learn about the people, for sure, but also about their restaurants and the food. You’d get to know the popular street corners and have to figure out what type of people live in each neighborhood.” The idea soun ded dumber with every sentence uttered. “I could do it here but people would recognize me, you know? And I already know Toronto pretty well.” I thumbed my pockets. “Dunno.” I thought Leopold would take it as a joke and laugh, but he didn’t. He just rolled the board back and forth with his foot, deep in thought. I realized then he wouldn’t have laughed no matter what I’d answered. He was diplomatic, asking out of curiosity more than comparison, which only increased my liking of him. It wasn’t hard to imagine him running our country one day. “You’d learn a lot about cities doing that,” he finally stated. “But probably more about yourself than anything, huh?” We agreed, then debated which cities would be the hardest to survive in. I was mostly focused on the we ather, but Leopold claimed culture mattered more than climate. He had practical concerns about actually trying it, though. “Children’s Aid can’t take us since we’re under sixteen.” I didn’t blame him for assuming I was younger. “I just turned sixteen. I’d be fine.” “Ah. Well, I think it’s a grand idea. But I’d have to wait another year if I were to join you.” “You’re only fifteen?” “Just had my birthday last week.” The stubble on his chin looked like it could sprout into a beard overnight. Yet he was a full grade beneath me, merely a kid. A super kid. We chatted and skated a bit more. Leopold’s vocabulary was impressive, so I figured he read a lot of fiction like me, but when I asked him, he scoffed and said he was more interested in scientific articles than books of fancy After fifteen more minutes, Leopold took out his phone and told me the time. It was later than I realized. As we gathered our things, he asked which direction I lived. I pointed south with my newspaper. “I’m on one of the side streets off L ogan.” Leopold thrust his head east. “I’m on Strathcona. Say, is that NOW Magazine ?” He stuck his hand out for the paper, so I gave it to him. He flipped to the second page, titled ‘Letters to the Editor.’ “Do you read this often?” he squinted to see the p age in the dark. I’d never read NOW in my life. I just liked skipping to the sex questions at the back. I wasn’t even sure what sort of paper it was — just that it was Toronto - focused and had advertisements for prostitutes. But I didn’t want Leopold to know my ignorance. “Oh yeah. All the time.” “I’ve been writing in about how schools are increasingly failing boys due to systemic bias, but they never publish me.” He shut the newspaper and rolled his eyes. “God forbid they feature a diverse opinion from a not - so - // Audience \ \ 12 // Askew \ \ very - diverse person.” Leopold laughed like he’d told a joke, so I laughed along with him. But this only made him laugh more. Eventually, we were nearly in tears, giggling about something I didn’t understand. “Publish me or not, it’s still a decent read. ” He handed the newspaper back to me. “Strong liberal bias, but a decent read.” Unsure what I could add with words, I nodded. “Now, Jimmie — don’t be a stranger. I owe ya eighty cents for the coffee and something extra for the lesson!” Leopold tucked his boa rd under his arm, shook my hand firmly, and walked across the grass towards Carlaw. I tucked the newspaper under mine, determined to finally read the entire thing, front to back. 2 The second time I saw Leopold Otis Ward III was on the Danforth a week after our skate session. I’d just finished a ball hockey shift at the Center and was hunting a gyro for dinner. There was a long line at Messini, and I was debating whether to join it or move on when Leopold passed me. He was in a group of tall, well - dress ed guys strolling along the sidewalk. I would have assumed they were in college but, with Leopold among them, I couldn’t be sure — he looked every bit their equal. We made eye contact as his group went by; I saw his face flash recognition but turned from it before he could notice my noticing. I studied the Messini line seriously and let his group distance themselves. When I glanced back at them, Leopold was just taking his eyes from me, turning his attention back to his friends. 3 Two weeks later, I was in line at Tim Hortons. Amy took my order then asked about my brother, sister, mother, and step - dad as she gave me back my change. She noticed the pot of steeped tea was empty. “Sorry, Jimmie!” she squealed, emptying and rinsing the old pot. “I’ll make you a fresh one now. Can you wait a few minutes?” “Yep. No problem.” “Want a few Timbits while you wait?” I shook my head and moved to the bagel and sandwich area of the counter so she couldn’t sneak me anything. The next guest was Leopold Otis Ward III, though I didn’t realize it until I heard him order two medium iced cappuccinos with his trace British accent. This was the third time I saw him. Amy made the iced capps while my tea brewed, forcing Leopold to stand and wait just five feet from me. I pretended to be absorbed in reading the menu and avoided eye contact until he got his drinks. A few minutes later, my tea was ready. I said goodbye to Amy and went to leave. Leopold and a gorgeous woman were sitting by the door. She looked older than him, so it surpri sed me when he reached across the table and held her hands. // Audience \ \ 13 // Askew \ \ 4 The fourth time I saw Leopold Otis Ward III was months later, in the heart of winter. It took a moment to recognize the young man sitting across from me on the subway, wrapped in a black peaco at, reading from a thick textbook. I tried to see the cover but couldn’t without drawing attention. Leopold stood as we approached St. George Station. He glanced down at me, but I closed my eyes and nodded along to my music as he tucked his textbook into h is shoulder bag and exited the train. 5 I crossed paths with Leopold Otis Ward III six more times, then never saw him again. // Audience \ \ 14 // Askew \ \ Untitled West Isle Virus 36x60in, oil on canvas. // Audience \ \ 15 // Askew \ \ Carolina Will One Day Dance in Fading Rockies Dan Wagner Dawn And the day begins as yesterday And tomorrow and next year A washed light bubbling in cool air seas Boats and tacklemen rush to loot the ancient borders quiet And a silent bark trembles at the prospect of our fresh axes I am sent out, flailing, in a beautiful confusion I’m soft, and malleable, shooting beneath the sky world Conversation wanes within my utter blackened shell For in me, the comet that shudders every eye Focuses down and sees the lake Crashing, but I’ve a centur y to anneal What new dissonance fills the chords of this waking life Is it the discord of tomorrow, or the constants of today? Let this be the warning, to axemen, thieves, and droolers Statues, POEs and blockers, the bridges aren’t yet burned This land... This is everyone’s land now The water seems to will it The clouds will shake it loose, and remind us who receives them And the adventure that awaits is that of death and freedom // Audience \ \ 16 // Askew \ \ Solo with Vodka Tonic Dani Kuntz I’m gonna be real — that drink is pretty disgusting. I put too little tonic, or too much vodka depending on how you look at it. Reiki ASMR puts me in a trance, eyes glazed over, head buzzing, so that for the first time in years, I am comfortable alone. I am enjoying who I am. I just got back fro m California where someone actually hit on me. I wasn’t wearing a mask. He said my smile attracted him. I ghosted him because I wanted to spend time with my best friend. My mind drifts to how much I love Arkansas. Being born in a town lying atop a volcano has taught me that I can find allure outside of tourism. It costs nothing to walk downtown or take a hike at Pinnacle. I find myself sitting with an upset stomach thanks to the alcohol now flat and lukewarm. Maybe when I leave the country in a month I’ ll know how to handle it all better. I am comfortable with myself — But I also long for love. A long love. A love that lasts until death, or through to whatever veil is beyond. I am keen. Keen to find out what life has to offer though I’m scared to see. The tonic is nearly gone and I wish I could feel fulfilled without romance. Loving myself and being alone — what’s the chance? // Audience \ \ 17 // Askew \ \ Her Eyes Watching Gods H.I. Suell // Audience \ \ 18 // Askew \ \ Convergent, Concurrent, Contemporaneous Andy Betz Day 1 I am the first. No one had ever reached the surface without crashing or activating remnants of the orbital defense grid. No one. My goal has always been to make it this far, to discover the real reason for the fall of the Empire. I never believed what the instructors told me about the cataclysm. How could anyone have gathered that much information about the destruction of star syste ms, planets, and moons without having lived through it? No one has ever found a single surviving record from the Empire’s last day of existence — all anyone knows is speculative at best, pure fantasy otherwise. The people of my system were far enough from th e destruction to survive, but the blessing was also a curse. We lost the Empire’s protection but gained our freedom in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately, so did other systems. While we are agrarian, some decided to press their advantage of military superi ority and conquer the remnants. All I found in conquest was the barbarism that preceded the Empire and the brutal taxes that defined it. We paid dearly for our survival. The least I could do was come here to uncover the truth. The Empire collapsed instanta neously. I orbited the planet before landing to find an array of buildings pulverized from impact. Every city looked as if a thousand identical metropolises had collided into the same space simultaneously, everywhere on the planet. The capital had a millio n times more structures than it ever had people. I may not know what happened to the Empire, but I now know where everything went — all in a single spot. Once finished here, I’ll explore the other major planets to hopefully understand the catastrophe’s scope . For now, I will hide this ship, cloak my presence, and wait until I am fully rested before venturing forward. Day 2 All I have is time. My future rests upon today’s success. I should be able to remain hidden within the mountains of debris to find the answers I require. Curiosity drives me. And that may be just enough. I’ve located one hundred fifteen buildings designated as central records where there should have been one, though only three remain intact for an internal visit. Since each building looke d identical, I flipped a mercantile chip to choose which to delve into. The chip landed on its third side — that was prophetic enough for me. // Audience \ \ 19 // Askew \ \ I wish the antigrav unit could be shielded from external energy scans — then, I could bore through the debris to the m ain computer room in no time. Regrettably, if I wish to avoid detection, ropes and pulleys will be my friends for the next several days. I will save my power cell to prevent a collapse or accelerate an escape. Until then, I will remain low - tech. Unfortunat ely, it takes low - tech a day to do what high - tech covers in a fraction of the time. I have never slept in a partially collapsed building before, but I may have to do it again and again at this rate. Day 3 I am lucky! The building’s computer core is intac t, with three power cells fully charged. I’ve begun to copy the contents onto a portable storage unit. During the process, I began to scan for reports, official documents, and journal entries of the Empire’s final day. Nothing. Not even a single use of the term “last day.” The people of the capital must have had no idea what was coming. Either the event occurred within such a short time frame that no defense could be mounted — Or... Someone knew and didn’t tell anybody. I opened a food pack and chose a dehydrated, high carbohydrate meal to eliminate the possibility of wild beasts detecting an aroma. The crackers have no taste, but they keep a hungry person going, and that is all I require. A single crunch, then another, and another. Soon, I made a mess o f crumbs on the floor. To the novice observer, I made a mess and wasted a large percentage of the food. To an adept scrutinizer, each crumb looks just like the others, all piled upon one another, all in the same place for no apparent reason. Thousands co uld confirm this hypothesis without a second thought. But after seeing thousands upon thousands of identical buildings dumped (maybe not the best word, but it will do for the moment) upon one another means there must be a reason. This computer core cannot divulge what it does not have. Perhaps that is by design. However — with three full cells — I can power this computer core to transfer to myself what I need to know. It will take time, a few naps, and silence. I sweep the crumbs back into their container and m inimize my power usage. If someone — or something — wants to find me, they will have to be far more lucky than skillful. Time for another nap. Day 4 I was awakened by the vibration of my perimeter sensors , indicating trouble. If it moves at the same speed as me, I figured there should be enough time before contact to evade and escape. If faster, I still had two fully charged power cells. If my friend had friends, I could vaporize the building and its contents with one cell. I didn’t want to waste the energy, but I knew there might not be much choice. Until then, I kept the search and my reading at full speed. Things were getting interesting. // Audience \ \ 20 // Askew \ \ One, and then two, then all three of my perimeter sensors went dark. That told me I could eliminate a random beast havin g found me. 85% of the transfer was complete. Should I bet that it was enough to tell me what I needed to know? If yes, it was time to leave. If not, I may have to fight. Determining I had come too far to live for 85%, I rigged one of the cells for det onation and left proximity surprises for my new friends for when they might arrive. I copied the whole transfer but read it in bits and pieces. I did not like what I saw. According to the video, the onset of the Empire had been heralded by the easy conques t of adjacent systems. This made expansion cost - effective both by acquisition and maintenance. Back then, the Empire was small. Small meant few ships and fewer governors. The records indicated popular support for efficient collectivism. As time passed, the Empire had to grow to survive. This increase in volume came with an even larger increase in radius. Doubling the radius of a spherical empire required an associated increase in volume by a factor of eight — that meant more taxes for a lar ger fleet and even more for an expanded bureaucracy. No government could monitor the vast empty spaces between systems without an exponential increase in control. The Empire almost evolved into a size destined to become uncontainable and implode from withi n. 90%. I was sure my pursuer could track me by the cell's power output , giving me limited time. Back to reading. It indicated a savior by the name of Major Ebenezer Whinent. It seems he invented a method in which the Empire could conquer new star sys tems by opening a time - lock to these spatially identical universes that existed milliseconds out of phase with the Empire (now referred to as the Prime Empire). The Emperor would have had access to nearly an infinite supply of resource - rich worlds, all ne arby, all ready to be conquered. The Prime Empire grew exponentially large in the same space and infinitely large in wealth within a short time. 95% “How did it all end?” I heard my own question from another teen who had bypassed all of my proximity traps. His appearance, voice, and demeanor were identical to mine. It was as if I was in the presence of a facsimile or doppelgänger. He was perfect. Actually, too perfect — his laser pistol was aimed at me. That is what I would have done had the situation been re versed. “You want to know the secret?” I nodded. It was best to remain cordial with such a gunman. “You will not like the answer.” I had come too far not to know the details of the Empire’s collapse. No one would speak of it. No one offers proof. I was on the precipice of solving the greatest mystery of all time and wanted — no, needed — to know. “Tell me.” My doppelgänger deployed an act or’s poise. “All was well with the Prime Empire. The device kept it in contact with the out - of - phase worlds so long as the energy to power the device remained allocated for bridging the