I wrapped my legs around him
like a dying spider
embracing its last victim
and his skin was colder
than a draft blowing bone dust
across the floors
in a frost-bitten tomb.
Why are you so cold?
Because you killed me.
That's impossible.
No. Quite possible.
But why would I do that?
Because you're a bad person,
and you're in love with me.
Despite his claim, I am not.
A bad person, I mean.
I am indeed in love with him.
I had been ever since I killed him.
Which I still deny doing.
Before he was dead
I didn't like him too much, though.
I remember thinking to myself,
What if I killed that son of a bitch,
the one who smiles so smugly
to himself when he's reading in the cafe?
Then I laughed and laughed
(internally)
comforted by my self-knowledge,
the possibility of murder
as funny as a perfectly told joke.
Then I did not wait for him
outside his home at 6:15 AM
with a steak knife in my hand.
There's no way that I stabbed him
thirty-two times (can you say excess?)
before I came home and washed
the blood off in the shower.
But I did find his body
at the funeral home where I clean
the floors and walls, waiting
for me with his eyes closed.
I turned the lights off,
kicked my clothes to the floor,
and whispered so softly
only ghosts could hear me,
I wish I could have killed you
more than once, my darling.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
"The Sharp Perfume of Dissection" by Barnabas DuCoudray
Inhale
that pungent potpourri
of a split corpse,
the abdomen opened
as if yawning,
the warm tangle of organs
c o o l i n g
under a single light bulb
in a dusty wine cellar.
You can smell
the years,
good and bad,
spill onto the table
and drip onto the concrete,
a damp metallic stink
like pennies clenched
in the fist
of a sweaty dead hand.
Sometimes I stand
over the corpse,
my nostrils embracing
the sting
of drying entrails,
my mouth heavy,
s w a l l o w i n g
the fragrance
of curdling blood.
You can search
in every darkened
patch of wilderness,
a lifetime's worth of
s e a r c h i n g,
and never find
a perfume like this.
Human life
in lukewarm puddles,
a waft of suffering,
the stab of immorality,
nose-deep
in red-stained truth.
that pungent potpourri
of a split corpse,
the abdomen opened
as if yawning,
the warm tangle of organs
c o o l i n g
under a single light bulb
in a dusty wine cellar.
You can smell
the years,
good and bad,
spill onto the table
and drip onto the concrete,
a damp metallic stink
like pennies clenched
in the fist
of a sweaty dead hand.
Sometimes I stand
over the corpse,
my nostrils embracing
the sting
of drying entrails,
my mouth heavy,
s w a l l o w i n g
the fragrance
of curdling blood.
You can search
in every darkened
patch of wilderness,
a lifetime's worth of
s e a r c h i n g,
and never find
a perfume like this.
Human life
in lukewarm puddles,
a waft of suffering,
the stab of immorality,
nose-deep
in red-stained truth.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
"Slow Jam in the Sky" by Gabriel Caplan
The slow jam caressed our living room atmosphere like knuckles from a velvet fist. Not-a-one of us could escape the motley diction of singer and backup singers invading and destroying our inhibition. I took a chance; "pay $25 for vaccine fees."
Damn! The pot of money in the center of the DOGOPOLY board started small enough, but grew steadily as if feeding off the erotic tension created through Chicago's supine voices and our wandering glances. There must have been two thousand bones in the pile. That's when Trisha grabbed the fake money and made a run for the door. Needless to say the heavy fog of sexual expectations was shattered: especially in the way Larry gave chase.
Trisha had almost made it out the apartment door when Larry dove, smashing his face on the wooden floor but managing to grasp her ankle. Cindy-Lou and I, both shocked into an initial silence, were jostled enough by the sound of Larry's teeth and jaw smashing. We arose and hurried over.
You ever seen the most terrible thing in existence? Its when a wolf has its paw caught in a trap and must chew its own fucking leg off to escape! Instinct tells it to keep moving and free itself and there is only one choice. When I first heard about this scenario as a child I cried. It has haunted my imagination since. You can imagine my horror seeing Trisha bent over, fake cash in one hand stretched away, and chewing at her fucking ankle. Gnawing and chewing…."
Bite his wrist! Not your ankle," Cindy-Lou yelled out. But it was too late. Trisha had freed herself and was off again. Larry was coming to consciousness and then slowly fading into the Slow Jam in the sky as he watched Trish's hips sway by.
Damn! The pot of money in the center of the DOGOPOLY board started small enough, but grew steadily as if feeding off the erotic tension created through Chicago's supine voices and our wandering glances. There must have been two thousand bones in the pile. That's when Trisha grabbed the fake money and made a run for the door. Needless to say the heavy fog of sexual expectations was shattered: especially in the way Larry gave chase.
Trisha had almost made it out the apartment door when Larry dove, smashing his face on the wooden floor but managing to grasp her ankle. Cindy-Lou and I, both shocked into an initial silence, were jostled enough by the sound of Larry's teeth and jaw smashing. We arose and hurried over.
You ever seen the most terrible thing in existence? Its when a wolf has its paw caught in a trap and must chew its own fucking leg off to escape! Instinct tells it to keep moving and free itself and there is only one choice. When I first heard about this scenario as a child I cried. It has haunted my imagination since. You can imagine my horror seeing Trisha bent over, fake cash in one hand stretched away, and chewing at her fucking ankle. Gnawing and chewing…."
Bite his wrist! Not your ankle," Cindy-Lou yelled out. But it was too late. Trisha had freed herself and was off again. Larry was coming to consciousness and then slowly fading into the Slow Jam in the sky as he watched Trish's hips sway by.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
"Untitled" by Pedro Marrero
And like a king
In my hand
I held a rose
Of many deaths.
And each death,
Heir to countless tears
Emptied itself of its golden
Filaments,
and filled itself
in with the airy space
of a jade circle,
In my hands...
In my hand
I held a rose
Of many deaths.
And each death,
Heir to countless tears
Emptied itself of its golden
Filaments,
and filled itself
in with the airy space
of a jade circle,
In my hands...
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
"One Glorious Night" by Barnabas DuCoudray
You can wait your whole life,
your whole god damn life,
shitting yourself in anticipation
for a glorious night like this:
I'm five-foot nothing,
skinny-assed and fat-stomached,
my nose too long, my dick too short,
my eyes grey and twitching.
She's the best a used revolver
and a sandwich bag of opium can buy.
Duke said, "I usually ain't much for tradin',
but she's yours for the night, pardner."
So I took her to a movie
and we laughed and laughed
as spinal columns snapped
and skulls collapsed on the screen.
And we went out for steaks
and she smirked as the blood wormed
down my bearded chin.
The meat tore easily in my teeth.
And then after too much cheap wine
she unzipped my torn jeans
and I fucked her armpit until I screamed
and painted her shoulder.
Then we talked about love.
She said, "What about it?"
I said, "It's funny, ain't it?"
She said, "Fuck my armpit again."
So I did.
And I came blood and my eyes went white
and I thought Satan had crawled up my dickhole
and was killing angels in my sack.
I woke up and she was dead,
split from mouth to belly-button
like vicious hell-bound lightning
had torn her lovely body in half.
I returned her to Duke in a red suitcase.
He said, "You party hard, my friend."
I drummed my fingers on the suitcase
and wept silently on Duke's shoulder.
"There, there," he said.
The clouds blackened overhead,
a dead bird fell from the sky.
"There, there," he said.
your whole god damn life,
shitting yourself in anticipation
for a glorious night like this:
I'm five-foot nothing,
skinny-assed and fat-stomached,
my nose too long, my dick too short,
my eyes grey and twitching.
She's the best a used revolver
and a sandwich bag of opium can buy.
Duke said, "I usually ain't much for tradin',
but she's yours for the night, pardner."
So I took her to a movie
and we laughed and laughed
as spinal columns snapped
and skulls collapsed on the screen.
And we went out for steaks
and she smirked as the blood wormed
down my bearded chin.
The meat tore easily in my teeth.
And then after too much cheap wine
she unzipped my torn jeans
and I fucked her armpit until I screamed
and painted her shoulder.
Then we talked about love.
She said, "What about it?"
I said, "It's funny, ain't it?"
She said, "Fuck my armpit again."
So I did.
And I came blood and my eyes went white
and I thought Satan had crawled up my dickhole
and was killing angels in my sack.
I woke up and she was dead,
split from mouth to belly-button
like vicious hell-bound lightning
had torn her lovely body in half.
I returned her to Duke in a red suitcase.
He said, "You party hard, my friend."
I drummed my fingers on the suitcase
and wept silently on Duke's shoulder.
"There, there," he said.
The clouds blackened overhead,
a dead bird fell from the sky.
"There, there," he said.
Monday, February 19, 2007
"Charlie Chew" by Adam K. Ewing
Standing in the corner of an empty room in the big building on Trent Street, hiding face and gun against the wall, peeking out into sunlight to get an occasional taste of life, lick of sky. Charlie slides up to the window and leans the barrel of his rifle out, squinting down its lengthy smoothness. He could almost spit, almost drool along the metal and watch it glisten and fall to the waiting streets below.
He sights on the children in the playground across the street, his head cocked, mouth grinning. Twisted teeth bite down on the insides of his cheeks so blood goes squirt and drip when he smiles out to the sun, the sky, the children playing.
Click. He loads, thinking of the past.
Clack. He grins, blood drips at the memories.
That first Christmas, sound of wrapping paper, smell of baking turkey, taste of candy-cane turning your tongue and mouth sticky-mint…
He shifts his knees into a better position. The gun makes subtle creaking sounds against the old wood of the windowpane. He sees a blonde boy wearing a red sweatshirt.
That first time you kissed a girl, your teeth clicking on hers in your inexperience. Blue summer skies and blue eyes to match, falling in love. Falling in arms, hair, soft, wet, loved. Forever loved…
He peers through the gun-sight, lined up, so perfect. Perfection caught in steel. He grins and more blood slides out the corners of his mouth. His thoughts buzz on, his only friends.
That first time you slid a girl’s panties off, the way she lifted her hips to help you. Coarse secret-hair against your palm, smell of sunscreen, body-tan like leather take me away take me away to the beach to the sun to the sky I just want to float away…
Charlie floats away as he squeezes the trigger again and again. His cheeks begin to tingle unpleasantly as he bites through their nerve-endings. Blood squirts from his smile to match the blood out on the tar below him.
The children go quiet.
They bleed from different smiles."
He sights on the children in the playground across the street, his head cocked, mouth grinning. Twisted teeth bite down on the insides of his cheeks so blood goes squirt and drip when he smiles out to the sun, the sky, the children playing.
Click. He loads, thinking of the past.
Clack. He grins, blood drips at the memories.
That first Christmas, sound of wrapping paper, smell of baking turkey, taste of candy-cane turning your tongue and mouth sticky-mint…
He shifts his knees into a better position. The gun makes subtle creaking sounds against the old wood of the windowpane. He sees a blonde boy wearing a red sweatshirt.
That first time you kissed a girl, your teeth clicking on hers in your inexperience. Blue summer skies and blue eyes to match, falling in love. Falling in arms, hair, soft, wet, loved. Forever loved…
He peers through the gun-sight, lined up, so perfect. Perfection caught in steel. He grins and more blood slides out the corners of his mouth. His thoughts buzz on, his only friends.
That first time you slid a girl’s panties off, the way she lifted her hips to help you. Coarse secret-hair against your palm, smell of sunscreen, body-tan like leather take me away take me away to the beach to the sun to the sky I just want to float away…
Charlie floats away as he squeezes the trigger again and again. His cheeks begin to tingle unpleasantly as he bites through their nerve-endings. Blood squirts from his smile to match the blood out on the tar below him.
The children go quiet.
They bleed from different smiles."
Sunday, February 18, 2007
"Bobby Kennedy Liked to Disco Dance" by Shane Frasier
The epitaph should have been different
But the Kennedy's feared mockery
From a ugly and revolting society
Bobby danced like a fool they said
Feet to the floor like Travolta with a fever
Arms stretched out to the beats of ABBA
Politics were a mistake, Bobby admitted this
Never should have entered a career his brother took
Shot in the head and entered into the books
Now Bobby's eyes are closed
His career in dance is what he should have strived for
Cause if he had he would have been staying alive
But the Kennedy's feared mockery
From a ugly and revolting society
Bobby danced like a fool they said
Feet to the floor like Travolta with a fever
Arms stretched out to the beats of ABBA
Politics were a mistake, Bobby admitted this
Never should have entered a career his brother took
Shot in the head and entered into the books
Now Bobby's eyes are closed
His career in dance is what he should have strived for
Cause if he had he would have been staying alive
Saturday, February 17, 2007
"With the Mountains Rising" by Laura Vladimirova
Felons dance the salsa with alligator loafers on,
tattered from the pacing back and forth and their
swing blade hips.
Running peeling fingers through hair
in mountainous vines,
rubbing off monster red lipstick, but thinner.
tiny vacations taken
from the day in and out of alls well that ends well,
conversations conclude on banana peel post-it notes.
Once, phone calls cost
veteran arms and legs,
and tongues were dipped in honey
or at least sliced open to bleed better.
Hands spoke for those missing at sea,
in small spaces across the waters.
Stuffed in vodka bottles,
salt water mistaken for more.
Last night, I was drunk on blind fashion
on plastic bags
and liquid soap.
I spewed forth toilette water
reeking of synthetic roses.
Dropped the bottle, in disgust
into a mound of dog shit,
the last drop sunk into the filth,
the bottle lay hollow,
like the eyes of criminal statues.
tattered from the pacing back and forth and their
swing blade hips.
Running peeling fingers through hair
in mountainous vines,
rubbing off monster red lipstick, but thinner.
tiny vacations taken
from the day in and out of alls well that ends well,
conversations conclude on banana peel post-it notes.
Once, phone calls cost
veteran arms and legs,
and tongues were dipped in honey
or at least sliced open to bleed better.
Hands spoke for those missing at sea,
in small spaces across the waters.
Stuffed in vodka bottles,
salt water mistaken for more.
Last night, I was drunk on blind fashion
on plastic bags
and liquid soap.
I spewed forth toilette water
reeking of synthetic roses.
Dropped the bottle, in disgust
into a mound of dog shit,
the last drop sunk into the filth,
the bottle lay hollow,
like the eyes of criminal statues.
Friday, February 16, 2007
"HYPERRELIGIOUS MAN" by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
He is fine
until he
begins to
talk about
God. He goes
off into
worlds no one
understands.
He gets up
on tables
and preaches
out loud. He
becomes a
man no one
wants to hang
around with.
He predicts
the future,
the end of
days, and screams
the sermons
of a God
so wrathful,
that everyone
in the world
is hell bound.
until he
begins to
talk about
God. He goes
off into
worlds no one
understands.
He gets up
on tables
and preaches
out loud. He
becomes a
man no one
wants to hang
around with.
He predicts
the future,
the end of
days, and screams
the sermons
of a God
so wrathful,
that everyone
in the world
is hell bound.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
"Nightmare #22" by Mike Caprio
A party of seven wandered across a trackless, endless desert. Their minds wore thin, as thirst and heat punished their bodies. There was no hope, no oasis of safety waiting over the next dune. Soon they began sharing their hallucinations... and somehow they were all fighting over slices of a lime, sucking on the juice and pulp of a fruit that didn't exist and trying desperately to get sustenance from it.
One of the party looked up, and saw six suns beating mercilessly down upon them. As he watched, with his hands shielding his eyes, they suddenly started to align and began to form the shape of a cross.
"Oh Jesus Christ!" he shouted, "Save me! Preserve me!!"
The man disappeared, and in his place, hovering in the sky, was a radially symmetrical creature: green on the outside with red blotches in the middle, several feet in diameter, and a single serpentine eye in the center. It fell to the ground with a sickening plop.
Another man cried out to the empty air: "You fool! Your need summoned Tau Ra, when the stars were right! He was gone, and you brought him baaaack! Nooo!" He clawed at his head and eyes in a frenzy as he screamed.
Someone else poked Tau Ra with a stick, and the creature swelled and exploded like a jellyfish - but the explosion was really a growth spurt. Eventually it would grow large enough to cover the whole planet once more...
One of the party looked up, and saw six suns beating mercilessly down upon them. As he watched, with his hands shielding his eyes, they suddenly started to align and began to form the shape of a cross.
"Oh Jesus Christ!" he shouted, "Save me! Preserve me!!"
The man disappeared, and in his place, hovering in the sky, was a radially symmetrical creature: green on the outside with red blotches in the middle, several feet in diameter, and a single serpentine eye in the center. It fell to the ground with a sickening plop.
Another man cried out to the empty air: "You fool! Your need summoned Tau Ra, when the stars were right! He was gone, and you brought him baaaack! Nooo!" He clawed at his head and eyes in a frenzy as he screamed.
Someone else poked Tau Ra with a stick, and the creature swelled and exploded like a jellyfish - but the explosion was really a growth spurt. Eventually it would grow large enough to cover the whole planet once more...
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