When did China purchase America's spine... and will we ever have enough money to buy it back?
Author: J.A. Carter-Winward
J.A. Carter-Winward is an award-winning poet, novelist, writer, visual artist, playwright, public speaker and performer--and she has this side-gig that relates to helping medications be safer for everyone.
She’s the author of seven novels:
"Ravings" (we don't speak of Ravings in this house...)
Falling Back to Earth
The Rub: A Novel
TDTM
Grind: A Novel
Wade: A Novel (coming soon)
Killing Scott Lark (coming later than soon)
Two short-story collections:
Shorts: A Collection
The Bus Stops Here and Other Stories
A stage play:
The Waiters
And five books of poetry:
No Apologies, No Secrets, No Regrets
Work in Progress: Dialogues & Poems (Spring 2021)
If It Stings...that means it's working - a poetry story- (Spring of 2021)
Feminist Fatale (coming later-ish)
Her work has appeared in several online and print journals and in anthologies from HSTQ, Vita Brevis, and Write Bloody Publishing.
Her writing has been characterized as “fierce, bold, and emotional,” but to be fair, that's who she is, too.
"[J.A. Carter-Winward] is one of the toughest, bravest, grittiest working writers in America today…a word-slinger with enormous strength, wit, and compassion.”
BOOK REVIEWS (FROM A WRITER’S PERSPECTIVE)
Book Reviews and why they matter
John Tustin
This piece taps into some pretty heavy themes on manhood, male-ness, and the human condition. Yes, I know, how *dare* I–but I highly doubt I’m gonna get “canceled” by a bunch of cis-white men. Ahem & *wink*
This poem is spectacular, really. The nuances are stunning.
“…Loses his arrogance.
Confidence? He never
Owned any.”
What a fantastic use of language and what an engaging character he is. I found myself aching a little inside for him while “recalling” the glory days of his youth, his arrogance and bluster serving as a mask for his lack of confidence, but surely he got there at some point in his life. Don’t we all fake it ’til we make it a little when we’re young, consuming life rather than recycling it, careening instead of pacing?It’s a compelling life-sketch of one man, every man. Looking forward to more from this poet.
Arrogance
Pity the young man who,
As he grows older,
Loses his arrogance.
Confidence? He never
Owned any.
His insolence,
Once interesting,
Is now merely crankiness:
His resolve stubbornness.
His desires fantasies.
All he owned,
Once so indelibly carved
Into his heart and his words
Was shown to be illusion.
He considered the palpable
Tangible.
He knows better now.
Pity the man whose words were once braver,
His eyes alive with the clarity
Of the zealot.
He rarely saw choices –
He just acted.
He doubted himself
But not his beliefs that were
Imbued by the books he read
And the feelings he felt
When he would lie in bed at night,
Alone but
Just knowing things should be a certain way
And that if he were true to himself,
They would be.
Pity the young man who,
As the skin of his trust and belief
Was peeled away,
Left…
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Casey Renee Kiser
There’s music to the edge of this sword. A fantastic poet, find her chapbooks on Etsy, and of course, her poetry on HSTQ.
I’ve Lost My Head and Gained Sight
he thought the head he gave
would have me razzle-dazzled
like the others
he thought the head he gave
would make my mind frazzled
when he ghosted
he thought the head he gave
would be all he needed to kill
my spirit one day
let’s hope someone comes
and changes that bulb of his,
that dull, dull light
solstice
Comes full circle, thank goodness…
Goodbye, Blue Sky, JAcW Photography©
solstice
it is the longest of nights
and there is comfort in
this blanket of black.
it reminds me that we were all once
beholden to it.
and so
i honor this darkness.
when i paint
i start with a black canvas.
when i write
i start with a black page.
i bring in one pinpoint of light at a time
and as your eyes adjust to one,
i bring in another.
soon there’s cohesion in
the daubs of illumination
on canvas, on page, and
if you step back—if you see the whole
of what I raise from my depths—
you’ll feel the warmth of the sun
as it brings your skin
to life with its
promise of dawn.
but first, always—
i honor the dark.
~j.a. carter-winward
work in progress: poems and dialogues
(Coming Soon)
Writing in Blood 