[image by nick prahl]skip.2 [august 2004]
[image by nick prahl]
kurt welshinger : become an actor!
christa beverlin : now that we are not friends
christian fischer woeltge : the lustful
andrew fife : i say, "i said," says i.
kurt welshinger
_--
politicize the eyes
the world's best weapon
high-velocity hollow halos
fascinating stuff
live on the streets of the united states
we must come to power in cuba
chairman of the chiefs
chiefs of the joints
joints of the chairman
pin the tail
incite the peeps
subvert the law
pinch off the fetzer valve
all kinds of episodes
junior high and grade school
spacedogs in the government
or - "how to deal with burns"
when was kennedy brought in?
years ago.
nicole pamelia
I spy on you, i watch you but you
dont know i am there. i see you make
the cards, you are my card master, dispenser of identity, the beauty of your
task, the hypnotic power of your duty to the student body attracts me
like a two year old to cake, and i stand pressed against the window of my
fascination for you, hoping to catch your eye, hoping for the card to
slip my way, and for you to put my picture on a proof of identity. I watch
you card master, but you dont see me, because i have lost my u card. only
you have the power to let me check out books without my drivers license, to
purchase books at the coffman memorial union bookstore, to have access to
a meal plan in the residence halls, and a student rate at fucktechnomusic
clubs in the surrounding area on thursday nights. you wield this power
in such a harmonious symphony of poetic mechanics, that i cannot pry my face
from your glass. my greasy face prints are like the photos you print on
the cards, the window is my plastic identity substitute. my cardmaster.
christa beverlin
Now that we are not friends
I notice that every car on the road is evergreen.
I don't drink myself to the point of calling you.
I can't stop thinking about you.
I don't write poems about the sweet things you say.
I drive past the Depot and wish we could go skating.
I hid your book deep in the closet.
When I see you, I notice your smooth face and careless hair.
I don't bother checking my answering machine anymore.
I want to make you spaghetti for dinner.
I want to buy you bamboo plants at Target.
I deleted all the messages you've left me.
I listen to the Doors in the morning while getting dressed.
I think about your worn out slippers.
I can't stop emailing you song lyrics.
christian fischer woeltge
Lust is the least sin of them all
And still the crisscross passion
That encompasses the two unbetrothed
Spurs whirlwinds to swallow you both
Do not weep
Nor let yourself ask for penance
Cause freewill has cursed us all
And many have fallen
And many more will fall
So you will not be alone
Being tossed from the ground
By winds of fury
You will have like company
To hold you, in your misery
Though you have killed the best parts of me
I will grasp for your hand
As we are tossed for eternity
Paying the price
Its only fare
Cause though you sought another
I have always looked for you
In the eyes and the face
Of all that crossed my path
My sin is Lust
For a woman who was unfaithful
So that maybe in presence of devils
We can finally come together
As one
Making the Inferno our disenchanted paradise
bryce beverlin II
four
sunburned sheriffs
once the familiar
heavy-whiskered walleyes walls and bells
olfactories again
hounds delicious happenstance
i found your silky demons
five
troweling atop their 66 trowels
a puma
desire
tall small end symbols in launcher
the center
apply permanence
nine
d'isthme asthme atermoiements de quant
aux presse paresses plein encore jamais
ces puis
f me
j',tais j',tais
ten
life's echo
outstretched
eleven
cloth
foot
twelve
andrew fife
cool slaplizzards, says I, with blue
eye winking, eyes blinking and watering
themselves. and, while sayings the game for me, says I, why not on the web,
too? And I says, says I, me talking and saying I, aye aye, I said I says,
dammit me, stop saying, says I, I'm trying to say, "I'll send you some
of my
stuff, too," as well. Says I.
me