Creepy

A creepy guy in a suit rang the bell earlier and, indicating the sign
jammed into the snow bank, asked, as if accusing me of high treason,
"Who exactly are we impeaching?"  In reply, I pretty much slammed the
door in his stupid old face.

Exquisite Corpse-January 22, 2007

Like a woman arranging a chignon between two mirrors, she operated on men by reflection, and so there always had to be at least two of them - men, that is, one before and one behind. A wonderful silence exploded throughout the room, as the three coffee drinkers exchanged knowing glances. Small swirls of cream, like giant cumulus clouds, expanded in the cups, like the group's collective consciousness. After sheepishly admitting her own cultural void and not having ever seen "The Wizard of Oz," he asked her what she did for fun for the last twenty years. "Yikes," sister yelled, "That's not the poison chicken you just ate, is it?" Frederick sucked in his cheeks and feeling the orange pancake crease under his eyes, he let out an unapologetic fart into his filthy housedress.

© 2007
mc, pc, sm, kk, ek

mad mad mad lib

One of these days I’m going to go to (a barn) and drink (Scorpion bowls) in a (loft) café.

I’ll watch all the (computers) go by, and have (soft) conversations about (anarchy) and (Rimbaud). Then we’ll go to dinner at a (Mexican restaurant) and eat (chicken with mole sauce) and later we’ll take a long walk through the (Native American) neighborhoods with all the (lamps) (skating) out on their front stoops, (sighing).

It will be so (hateful) and I’m sure I’ll never forget how we (slept) all night long, holding (toes).

It was the most (aggravating) time of my life.

©2006
kkaze writing room

The Smallest Sound

The Smallest Sound
kk
© 2005


There is this small sound. It goes with the mirror. It says get up. Get up and go.

Mother used to say the same thing. She used to say, my get up and go just got up and went.

It made me laugh.

This small sound. It’s a beating drum. A drum that tells me to move, scream, shout, testify.

He has never known pain. When things come so easily, doesn’t the soul suffer? Doesn’t one’s ability to empathize become impaired, as if the mind and body had not progressed at all? If I pulled his breeches down around his ankles, would I see a prehensile tail, jutting from the end of the spine, not knowing its own desuetude?

It’s a mosquito in the dark. A buzz that tells me to run, hide, make no sound, disappear.

How long before I won’t seem ungenerous by removing my hand from his? Even through these mittens I can feel the dampness of his alien palm and I can only wonder where everyone else thinks we’ve gone. If we don’t hurry, they will put two and two together. They will pair us off like geese and wait for us to produce golden eggs.

It’s a clang. It’s a clamor. It’s impossible to ignore. Why am I the only one who hears it?

I hate the perfection of these gardens. Why do they torture what is green and wild and growing into this? If I threw myself into the fountain and washed away this greasepaint, I would emerge my former self and he would be frightened of that one. Yes, she would prove too capable to be a robot’s consort. If he would just look at her, the her hiding inside this weight of fabric, they could shake hands, no harm, no foul, they could agree this was all just a big mistake.

There is this small sound. It goes with the mirror. It says WAKE UP.

Mr. Charming? I’m sorry. I feel sick. I’m sorry. I have to go. I’m sorry. I.

DON’T LOOK BACK! (You might see what looks like disappointment, but don’t believe it.) HURRY! (No matter how authentic it looks, it’s just a mask.) HURRY! (Poor alien thing doesn’t know the difference.) HURRY! (Pedal to the metal, girl–pity will never be an adequate substitute for love.)

Mosquitos playing drums, whirring wings studded with tiny silvery mirrors, chase me all the way home.

End.

notes from 9.14.06

I’d get this feeling
breathless
but it felt good.
I knew I’d be OK.
I’d know I was going to win.
Just picture the eye blink moments:
bliss
prosperity
magazine interiors.
that's happiness?

©kk 2006

notes from 8.29.06

You will be whiskeyed down
to the dreg
where the last molten sip
lies dreaming beyond your reach.
You will be abandoned
to the cruelty
of indifference
and benign neglect.

©kk 2006

on the bus.........................

You know I love you
No one else exists in my eyes
(as if scripted and memorized)
he says loudly so all of us can hear
[t]his declaration
she clings to him
(looking older than he)
this bus driver brakes like a teenager
hellbent on working our stablizing muscles
she coughs productively
repeatedly
as he observes flaws in the roofline
of a house
everybody's a critic.

©kk 2006

Austin, TX-February 2006

All photos © 2006 B. Carson. All rights reserved.
To learn more about Peter Bellonci's sculpture, visit www.peterontherocks.com.

FLASHES of 8 February

The mission is: write a story from these Walker Evans photographs in three sentences.

#1



















Over, just a little dear. Mouth open now, big smile--oops ... BAD BOY!
--nm © 2006

Heloise is always making me do these things and she says it's art or something but I dunno, and what is it with the plastic palm tree, the stuffed pelicans and that crocodile--or is it an alligator? Whatever, I'm sick of wearing this goofy hat and I wish she'd just take the damn picture, but she always has to have it all set up so perfectly ... fussy, fussy, fussy. If I didn't love her so much, I would consider picking up that crocodile and bludgeoning her to death.
--mk © 2006

Regina thought the croc prop was way over the top, but her mother got a kick out of it. And Linda was perhaps the most difficult to please of all mothers. That's why she ended up burning the negatives--Linda would have killed her when she saw Regina had given her three chins.
--kk © 2006

#2



















OK, OK--I'll wear the damn g-string! But ix-nay on the four inch stilettos. I mean, Jesus Christ, my feet are size twelve!
--nm © 2006

It was her first job and she didn't know what she was getting into. She knew the part about taking her clothes off, so that was OK, but where was she supposed to stash the tips? She said to the boss, "What, no garters?"
--mk © 2006

Sam hates himself for loving Ginger. The woman is poison in a candy shell. Luckily, he has cast iron guts.
--kk © 2006

Anybody else?

It was the sort of occasion ...

It was the sort of occasion that you rolled your eyes about on the way in, and again on the way out.

It was the sort of occasion that called for fine wine and formal wear but Carla wore her red high top sneakers over fishnet tights and brought a bottle of gin.

It was the sort of occasion Wanda dreaded--a bunch of Polish yahoos eating kielbasa and farting, swilling vodka and getting sentimental.

© 2006
sw, mk, kk

haiku memory

Goldfinch on thistle
summer warmth and waves on sand
cool water on moss.

© 2006
kk, sw, mk

goldfinches

© 2006
b. carson