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horn – inflating – façade – spark – crap-chute

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on January 16, 2008
in Dec 29 2007
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Lucky Us

by Evelyn

 

The ambassador to Poland would be arriving any minute in the small beleaguered nation.

All the country’s cameras were trained on the crap chute by which all outsiders must enter this country.

The horn player stood ready with her silver welcome horn, and

the children were inflating balloons and tying them off with tiny dexterous fingers.

The country’s façade was decorated with crepe paper handed down from America to Russia to Romania to the small beleaguered nation.

All of a sudden, there was a spark, and then a bright, breathtaking blaze.

Everyone looked at the fire juggler and what he had done to all expectations of diplomacy.

 

 

 

Untitled

by Adam

 

You must be inflating my expectations

revealing your little horn

You must trust my interpretations

or do you think of me as a small

spark on the contact of the

grandiose neon of your façade?

Touch me in the place that triggers

the belief of experience

And I will cease my belief

that you’re trying to implicate my crap-chute.

 

 

 

 

Tuesday 8:37 pm

by Matthew

 

My indigestion came about like the glorious prouncements of festive horns

A sudden weight, a quick moment of discomfort

The first signal of a coming procession…

Of inflating, expanding gas, a rising tide of bile

All that is needed now is a spark

An ignition that will turn my bowels into

An inferno, sending all my insides into

A molten flow, expelled in a moment

Of great relief

Through the crap-chute the façade of human dignity is betrayed.

 

 

 

Dust-making

by Stephanie

 

We stood ingeniously, tilting,

inflating and deflating

in front of everyone.

Someone’s horn honked in the distance.

Our façade was chipped away substantially.

 

Someone’s stray seizing threw a spark

that crackled and creeped into a fiery inferno.

We were consumed, crisped, cooled.

Rain on our ashes trickled and carried us

down the dreaded crap-chute.

fingernail – duplicitous – conjoined – skeleton – pothole – fiery

Published
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admin
on January 16, 2008
in Dec 29 2007
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Untitled

by Evelyn

 

You were going to save me from the fiery passage

but when the pothole shook loose your determination you picked it up

and gave it to me and it was:

A small fantastic skeleton.

“What do you think will happen to us now?” I asked.

You were picking at it with your fingernail.

“The hip and elbow parts are conjoined,” you said.

It moved by rolling, pushing with its chin.

The neighbor, the duplicitous one with a bucktooth, called.

He said he saw what we were doing, how we were holding the bones

of his mother, his mother who worked the perimeter of death,

the strange carnival there.

 

 

Untitled

by Adam

 

Riding on my skeleton bike

taking time on the way to the place of my preference

 

Many of them have a tendency

to duplicitous ankle-biting

and taking out frustration

in a cruel rumor

 

Skeleton and I come conjoined

in transportive agency

 

Dually at the whim of

an unseen pothole

brained by jelly

tripping a fingernail more alcohol.

 

 

Untitled

by Stephanie

 

Her skeleton was ground to bits

and mixed with the concrete that filled

a pothole in front of your house.

 

And that one shaving of fingernail,

that duplicitous little fragment that showed up

and you could smell it there,

tangled in the carpet.

 

Your conjoined brother, tearing away from your hip,

says in a fiery tone,

“See? You knew she wouldn’t leave.”

testament – musical – oblong – bison – skillfully – nubs

Published
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on January 16, 2008
in Dec 29 2007
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Ode to the Stride of the Bison

by Adam

 

The rhythm of the stampede,

musical actuality of pounding hooves,

racing masses and alternate nubs of horn.

You’d be easily offended by the appearance of power.

See a testament to your smallness

skillfully disassemble the population,

cheerfully heap oblong forms into

a huge stinking pile.

 

 

The Bison Tried to Go to the Amphitheatre and Becomes Very Frightened and Even More Lonely in the West

by Evelyn

 

The bison was dragging itself to where

the musical was showing,

down in the oblong amphitheatre off the highway.

 

It was thinking, I have no friends, I am a lonely bison,

I want some long grasses waving like a testament to the wind.

 

Its legs were almost nubs but it kept going

because this musical was supposed to be the best

ever shown at the amphitheatre.

 

Finally, the amphitheatre was within the bison’s sight.

And what the bison saw was everything rearranged skillfully

in a way that was pointing right at him.

 

 

 

Somebody Said Something That Made Us All Think

by Stephanie

 

She presses herself against the smooth oblong tabletop

turned sideways at the dinner party.

The rest of the guests skillfully and politely avoid

the wooly bison stamping and snorting there in the dining room.

 

The flatware lies naked on the linen,

its cascading curves and shining silver nubs a testament

to the lovers who were gifted it.

 

The guests laugh themselves into a musical frenzy,

hurriedly and uncomfortably bland.