Books published by April Gloaming Publishing

Inside, these poems will take you to a place, an edge, in the midst of the horrors of racial inequity, re George Floyd, and the ensuing attempts of disestablishing the strongholds of racial bias, discrimination, and injustice. C.I. Aki will take you there, show it to you, urge change for the world, then ask, "Is this the sole purpose of Black poetry?" And, reminding you that he is also the multitudes of the "I am," we are given the complete picture of the poet, his job, and his work. Smattered about are poems of love, poems of hope, poems of questioning with some honest, innovative answers too, and we are forced to sit, and think, and listen to the inexorable genius unveiling itself within these words. These poems are monuments, an unrelenting achievement for the modern Black poet's soul. The world is filled with beasts, but they cannot shroud entirely its beauty.

One two three four five six seven eight nine zero. Counting to zero helps Henry make sense of the world. Born with a developmental delay, bright orange hair, and one leg shorter than the other, Henry finds meaning in what he knows to be distinct truths-that life is about being even, that the canal must be finished so that the mules with red saddles will come, and sadly, that the voice in his head of his former abuser, Hiram, must be extinguished. Battling a past of being sexually assaulted, Henry must confront this voice, his inner demon, and conform his mind so that Hiram does not possess him any longer and that he can once again be even. Finding companionship with a couple of the town''s children, Henry must draw the line between playing pretend and being the person he is meant to be. In this unusual, yet important tale, we are taken on a journey that bounces between Henry''s grotesque truths, we pray alongside him as he scrubs the local church''s pews, and we hope, with all our hearts, that Henry will find the light, even after some downfalls, and especially, even in the quiet places.

This story takes place in the Prohibition-era Ozarks. Our introduction to Willie Henderson happens on a train taking him home, at long last, after a one-year stint in prison where he served time for illegally bootlegging and producing the area's finest moonshine. Upon his arrival back into Stone County, he is met by Sheriff Michael Baker, the county's new lawman who has a penchant for dismantling Stone County's storied illegal moonshining industry. Willie arrives home to find his wife, Mabel, lying in bed, sickly, with her and her young son unable to have afforded her needed medicine. With Mabel's health rapidly declining and Willie's breadth of knowledge and talent in shining, Willie is soon left with only one option-to return to his old bootlegging ways. In this highly suspenseful cat-and-mouse Southern thriller, we are taken through a series of chess moves between Willie and his nemesis, Sheriff Michael Baker. Who will outsmart the other? And who will inevitably come out on top?

Inside these pages, verses sing of light in the dark, of unearthing dark pasts and reckoning them with a resilient fervor. Kristi Carter dredges up the old, the scarred, the traumatic, and weaves a stolid face into the rising sun of tomorrow. However, scars never leave—they fade, yet they remain. We are who we are because of our families, our old friends, our former lovers who made us weak in the knees yet somehow our knees do not grow weak anymore. When our mother births us, she is supposed to hold us—she is supposed to drip candle wax over her hands as she guides us through the unknown. In this collection, we can see all that has been lost, has never been known, and because of them, their effects on the individual. Aria Viscera is a reminder that sometimes it is necessary to grab the candle from your failed mother, your failed relatives, and your darkened past and find your own way around the tricks and traps of the coming present.

THE HOUR WASP by Jay Sheets does the unspeakable.  It takes you on a journey, in three sections, through morose, sometimes tragic imagery (the ouroboros rinsed in venom / [flickering] the shape of things unshaped // no silken moments / only that which is always breaking / [something is always / breaking here]), and finds itself, in those melancholy moments of the second section some hint of a truth, of a reason, of hope, or a hope (the hour wasp awakens // & we are the things that take shape / & we let the things without shape take shape), and then, finally, we come to the final section, the send-off, the great, all-encompassing display of universal truths, using similar images, visions Mr. Sheets has experienced himself through dreams and meditations, and gives the reader the sense of understanding, almost accomplishment as she has waded through the dark along with the author and illustrator and come to find a sense of solace, one that may stand the test of time (i see the thousandth star / she looks to the thousandth star / the thousandth star is us // & i wonder if i / or anyone i  know    should be so lucky / & i light a new fire at the end of myself).

Welcome to Andermatt County. Hill country. South-central Texas. The residents walk the terrain and feel the air as if in a haze of their own self-interest. The children live in a mystical void of wonder mixed with downtrodden hopes of their lives to come.