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

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Ruminating On My Death Following My Return From Italy,Beth Rolingson

In the space of a week
The raven has tapped thrice on my window.
And three times has the owl flown across my daytime landscape
Since I emerged
From the land of myth and art,
Mythic art.
I want that veil of protection,
Those basilicas,
Those golden domes,
To shield me.
The drama frozen in icy white marble;
Pinned down in paint like a butterfly in the collection of an entomologist.
I can’t stop this messy slide into the other side though,
The side from which there is no return.
Renaissance visions of heaven and hell
Perforate my dreams
Become tableaus with real blue and green tailed-devils
Grabbing the innocents.
I want to walk down quiet columned corridors
That open onto sunny courtyards
Filled with roses or cypress.
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