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history and present activities

high up in the hills somewhere

bleak undulating grass and rocks

pissing by a dry stone wall in freezing rain



BLUE FRED PRESS was created in November 2004 while I was having a breakdown. These two facts may be no more connected than my birth predating Wholly Communion by only a few months, but I wouldn't like to dismiss anything too definitively. The first production was a print magazine, BLUE FREDERICK, which ran for two issues and cost a small fortune to produce (friends like Bryn Fortey had warned me magazine publishing was expensive, but I didn't really believe them, arrogant fool that I am). To reduce the budget I took out half the pages and half the poets after issue 2 and published a slimline version of the magazine called BLUE FRED'S KITCHEN. This also ran for two issues. Some people were extremely generous with their support, particularly Chris Torrance and Dave Church, who sent cash to help prop the magazine up, but it still died. There are a lot of poets out there, but very few poetry readers--at least in the little magazine community.

At the suggestion of THIEVE'S JARGON editor Matt DiGangi--the only editor ever to reject my work well enough for me to still like him afterwards--I transferred all Blue Fred operations to the internet half way through 2005. I now have three sites (if you don't count this one). Who knows how far the Empire of Fred will spread?


on the fourth day
i named the fly
an icy evening
a bowl of noodles and thoughts
of a naked woman
in the driveway
shoveling snow that's the same
eerie white as the moon
lonely pussy willows~
the only place snow
seems to be sticking
we act like children
laughing when i fart in bed
between my bony legs
in the window
enough leafless branches
to weave me a coffin

Ronald Baatz is equally adept in long or short form poetry. We hope to feature some of his longer works in subsequent issues of Angel Head. Ronald is the author of "at herring cove," reviewed on our sister site Suffolk Punch.

Improvement makes straight roads, but crooked roads without improvement are roads of genius ~ William Blake.