Contributed By: Marcus Slease
we’re freakin
growin
old so why
bother with
the promises
oh my brother
oh sis fluffing
our chariots
for the masses
our ears
good &
torn &
what
is broken say
to heat &
torment say
we have not
found the rock
have not left
the garden, oh
Return to table of contents for Issue 2 Winter 2010
You painted Las Vegas before it ever existed. I bet you never thought anyone would take abstract expressionism so literally. Such gaudy fantasies taken to impossible extremes by no taste and money. It’s your kind of town. Why else would your self-portrait end up in The Guggenheim Gallery located just off the reception lobby of […]
I order vodka and seltzer and check my coat. // I look up and meet a pair of eyes; he must know I’m lost. Dizzy.
Nine out of ten times, Mother hypnotized flowers not to sneeze. She taught other housewives to branch their spitzes, stick them out so they would all be prim donnas. Irksome they sprinkled pollen. Behind her elbow, they called her shrew and harridan. Minimalized in ro- tation, she peppered her devotees. Their landslip murk swelled with […]
