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Ms. Foxrummaging through the night;
I find her buried in a handsome coat.
the darkness softens her
trash-strewn make up
to lay bags under her eyes.
I have always thought to chase
a beauty like that; blow my
hunting-horn like kisses
as I saddle up.
I would wear her around my arm and
discuss the big-game
and the beasts at bay
with boys that brandish
scorecards into the hundreds.
she hid from the canines
lapping her neck with a head
buried in all fours.
I skinned her like a poacher
bearing my ivory smile
for her to unfurl
flushed and screaming
like a new born baby.
caught in my hooves the wrong way.
The HeistShelley lined up the shot. She regulated her breathing and made sure her footing was solid. She ignored the sounds and other distractions around her. It was just her and her lucky 5-iron.
She pictured the shot and took it. The ankle-biter was torn free of Hugo's pant leg and flew squealing in fury through the air. Even though it was dark, Shelley shaded her eyes and squinted, watching until the little beast was gone.
"Jesus Christ, Shelley!" Hugo screamed. "Did you have to take that long?" He was already crouched down and inspecting his leg for damage.
"Yes," Shelley said simply. She twirled her 5-iron and propped it casually on her should
exhibit.Nanny thinks the carpet is too soft
to be my torturecage
and the sofa and endtables are poor
jailbars, but we
are feline and we're too tough to care
bigsister and littlesister are lioncubs today
baby lionesses, authentically,
we even lap milk from
ceramic bowls, bellies swollen from
the orders we give: 'emily, you're the
Get us more milk.'
She hates serving us, she's only four
but she's getting strong and someday
she'll earn predator status.
(give thanks that we do not consume you, emily,
your fingers peek through the cagebars and
they are white and young and blood
is sweeter than breastmilk)
Roar. We are learni
In summer we all burnThe summer is coming,
I hear the beach roaring from here,
can see shirts hung over shoulders,
sunglasses, arms round waists,
can feel the earth's purrs,
pollens tossed up at us in fanfare.
Ants are walking over me
because we're sharing a tree together.
Back to back, we're trying to
make our winter's pallour a warmer shade.
Is it some sort of personal sign
when you let your shoe-tongues fill with tan bark,
when it's driven you mad your whole life?
Or when you eat ice-cream in public (the sticky
fingers a mere afterthought)?
These trees though, they're not changing.
I can't help thinking they
The Phillipians to St. PaulWhen light flooded your eyelids
& permanently blinded you
that was Jesus'
love, covering your skin
like the palm of a hand.
It was then you found you were as zealous
in persecuting trash
& the gods we make of our stomachs
as ever you were
in persecuting Christians
with the brand. How they
recoiled from you when you
began effusing to them
in fires & gibberish tongues! For the light
that filled you was eruptive
you speak of your own life
as if it could be a drink offering,
you are a fire work
& we are attending the fuse.
The Piano DemonThe first time I saw her - really, really saw her, not just glanced at her as we tried our best to catch the back seats in the small university classrooms - she was at a piano. Maybe I'd never have really been able to notice her had it not been for that one, strange evening when destiny gently pushed me out of my awkward life and into hers.
If only children can be prodigies, then I wasn't one any longer. I'd lived through my glory years at school, where I'd gone off and won prizes for art and English, maths and physics, running circles around classmates and less talented professors. Eventually, when push came to shove and I had to figure out
blue sluicecast off care like blue
snowfields into rigid water,
and wash with mud the thrust
of earth, our skin soft as salt mines.
built you are
of bitch and buttercream,
of soured elements in the blue
dot of a pin-prick spotlight
and windowed skull.
we can watch the fire fade
into a black rat canvas,
into blue gates that tumble up
and loose finger grooves,
smear eyes across your face like warpaint,
faster and faster,
momentum in the race to nowhere.
and once done, we turn,
we go aground and push
up the lines of blue backs
orbiting the moons of that
rising ass, around corners,
a shattered life in starshine,
on 'the Father'mr parker lined up
his children with an ax,
lined up twelve small
disciples of hard work
and the Depression,
twelve small chickens
hollering with tremors,
twelve disciples hungry
for the Fruits of the
previously to this,
he severed many of
mrs parker's tendons and sculpted
her face with a frying pan.
she bled on the floor and
crawled somewhere, the lioness
in her made the unseen more
powerful than science
and far more previous to this,
mr parker sent mrs parker to my
great grandmother's childhood home
with a basket of vegetables and pork
and bread. my great grandmother says
that whenever her family couldn't eat
Visions There's a saying among my people. It was something about how you have nothing to fear from a pond full of leeches, how it's not the pond's fault. I used to remember it a lot more clearly, but that was before the loss of cohesion.
The elders say I was sent as a warning of things to come. The medicine man never said much of anything. He waved his bones and feathers and trinkets around, he lit his grasses and fanned his smokes, and after singing his songs he just stared at me with a deep pity shining out from under his skeleton make up.
I am subject to visions. They are sudden and striking and painful to the point of debilitation. When they
One Last Star no moon to be found
in the predawn twilight,
but one last star —
somewhere in the distance
a robin's lilting call
Cretaceous YardThe call came in at 1500 hours, exactly twenty minutes after Leviner returned from his break. He picked up the phone and listened.
"We'll be there right away, sir."
On the other side of the desk, his partner looked at him. "A homicide?"
"If only we could be so lucky," Leviner snorted, making Ellsie wince.
It was just another case of illegal dumping. Once the 'cera crew had cleared away the overgrowth of ferns, Leviner stalked his way in. "What do you see?" Ellsie called. Although the entrance to the small shed was large enough to easily accommodate Leviner, there was no way Ellsie was fitting inside. Not that it was her fault. Maiasaurs w
FFM 2011, 29.7 - The Tower"Dora speaking."
"Mrs. Appleby? This is Aimee Bonner. I don't know if you happen to remember me..."
"Ms. Bonner? Of course I remember you! You were my star pupil in the 7th form. I'm so glad to hear your voice."
"That's right! That's right, Mrs. Appleby. I'm glad you remembered me. Um. I know this isn't strictly according to procedures, but I was wondering if you could help me with...a thing."
"You're being awfully secretive, Aimee. I can't promise anything before you tell me what it is."
"Well, ah, you see, it's a matter of...uh...invading realities? Maybe I better explain...."
"Ms. Bonner, if you have a haunting or a poltergeist or an
HubrisThe world is not a skeleton. It does not ache bone-deep with our atrocities, nor is it fragile and ready for the breaking. It knows nothing so human, except perhaps to forgive our pride. Let me explain:
Young, I am a bright star with small, pudgy hands for guiltless flower-crushing. Before even that, I am a wispy squall for food, unused to knowing anything but myself, and warmth, and hunger.
The concept of a hero is a natural progression from understanding speech. I am Me. I am the one all the stories talk about, born special, to whom both innocence and wisdom are possible. I am so great a part of my own self that I do not know it can be de
Ode IV.She was a sixty-eight-year-old lady with fluffy grey hair and an old-fashioned nightdress under her white johnny gown. My tutor was her neurologist and that afternoon he asked me to help him out filming some "cool signs". When you're a fourth-year medical student, you're all for cool signs.
My job was not complicated. It involved me holding the camera, pressing a button then keeping my hands steady for three minutes, while my tutor ran the sweet old lady through the neurological exam. I peeked above the camera and spied on the procedure. It was a running joke among my three other colleagues and I who shared the same tutor that he was a brood
O Dan Rot.Dan Rot, a man
of considerable comic timing
who came on rackety wings around the globe
in thirty days or so,
visiting once again with a night on his heels
copping feels on innocent ladies pillowed in bathtubs,
i was black like night
and i was ringed in rainfall
i was so glorious
a spiraling psyche led me to one thing
and this town never could have contained me
a spinning science to my insanity
bends in the system and curves of the power lines
a beauty to plywood and splinter breaks that cannot be defined
bends in the path, a northward slide
strand you in a parking lot
i was vicious and viscous
and i was perfect
as i die
Hard RainIt was going to rain hard. Arnold thought he could make it round to his mother's first, but he was barely out the door and it was pounding down. He didn't have a jacket or umbrella, so he ran in his shirtsleeves, trying to dodge the gauntlet of puddles and pedestrians and cars and fat drops of rain. He stopped, panting, when his brogues squeaked against the already-slick pavement, scared of falling and unable to run any further without a myocardial infarction. He took the rest of the journey at a scurry. He might have strolled along swinging his arms and singing a jolly song about the weather for all the difference it made, or rolled his
TalismanIt had rained for five days, and the reclaimed Belgian marshes of the Ypres salient were returning to their natural state. It was dark and cold, the landscape reacting against the horrors it was forced to witness. The men were huddled on duckboards, soaked to the skin, under whatever shelters they had been able to rig. In the Officers' dugout, Captain Joseph Briggs downed the rest of his chlorine-tainted tea and stood almost-decisively before pacing the room. Lieutenant Hawthorne, nearby, was shuffling and re-shuffling a deck of cards. The rest of the officers were smoking silently.
Creation Myths: VernaThe two fair daughters of Runo were playing one day with a ball, when the ball went through a hole in the universe. One of the sisters, the elder, lazy and spiteful, said to the other, "You must go and fetch the ball, for it is made of purest gold and was our dear dead mother's. If it is lost our father will be cross." The younger sister, Verna, was scared, but agreed that she would go through the hole to fetch the ball, knowing that her sister would not go.
Verna went through the hole in the universe and travelled for many days and nights in the caverns beyond the worlds. The caverns were dark and echoing, and many times she felt lost a
The tube station at midnightHer name was Lilya and she lived in Green Park underground station, between the Piccadilly Line platform towards Heathrow and Uxbridge, and the Victoria Line platform towards Walthamstow Central. That was how she introduced herself to me. I was sat on the platform at midnight waiting for the last tube home when she approached me. I was the only person around. I expected her to ask for money, but she just sat down next to me hugging a dingy pink scarf and talked. I was tipsy enough to listen.
She had been begging, one day, at the bottom of the escalators within sight of her gangmaster, Se
NocturneThe night cracked, leaving insipid yolk surrounded by gelatinous sky. The day people ate and skipped breakfasts; left home for work and school. I was travelling against the flow, home to sleep the too-bright hours. Already late, I ducked behind dustbins, detoured through deserted dockyards and private parklands. Too many punters and pedestrians: I dislike people generally Too many prospective psychopaths: I dislike competition more. I had done dark deeds in the dark city, fulfilled dark needs. The day had one less of its participants, sacrificed to sacred night.
Home, I curtained away the day and planned my next sacrifice.
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More