by Dalgraye Chebberston Sr.
Two bees were walking down Milwaukee Ave. It was a summer afternoon,
around three o’clock. The bees were the size of people, walking
upright on their rear legs like people. One of the bees was wearing a
t-shirt, it looked like a band t-shirt, with holes torn in the sides
below the sleeves for its second set of legs (and presumably in the
back for its wings). The other bee touched its shoulder and they
stopped in front of a bookstore. The shirtless bee turned, produced a
pack of cigarettes from somewhere, lit one and started smoking. They
seemed to be looking at me (although thinking about it now, they must
have been looking at me with their compact eyes the whole time, but
now they were roughly facing me, standing where I was on the other
side of the avenue, separated by the traffic). Except for the smoking
bee, raising the cigarette between its mandibles, none of us moved.
The nonsmoking bee almost looked like an ambitious art project. Some
minutes passed, a cloud passed over the sun. Something about their
appearance changed in the shadow.
One K and an H
by Wolf Layzer
There are so many Rebekahs
with one K and an H now.
And they all are writers
or something, what the hell?
I was published with one.
Her story was about
a boss at Red Lobster.
I liked it. It was pretty okay.
I was published by one.
Actually, I think that’s not true.
She might’ve left the magazine
before they took my work,
but I like to think
she would have liked it
and nodded her approval
with a pumpkin latte at her lips.
Not drinking it,
but holding it there,
like a finger saying, “Shush baby,
one day, you’re gonna be a star.”
There’s another one in my poetry workshop.
She uses words wrong all the time.
She used to work at Hooters.
She does a strange voice when she’s reading.
My friend calls it her “Sexy
Colonel Sanders voice.”
Where the hell have these Rebekahs all been?
And why do I know about them now?
What is it you’re trying to tell me, Lord?
Is it something about Isaac or Esau?
And what about that writing connection?
Tell me, Lord, is The Da Vinci Code real?
There are so many Rebekahs
with one K and an H now.
And they all are writers
or something, what the hell?
I was published with one.
Her story was about
a boss at Red Lobster.
I liked it. It was pretty okay.
I was published by one.
Actually, I think that’s not true.
She might’ve left the magazine
before they took my work,
but I like to think
she would have liked it
and nodded her approval
with a pumpkin latte at her lips.
Not drinking it,
but holding it there,
like a finger saying, “Shush baby,
one day, you’re gonna be a star.”
There’s another one in my poetry workshop.
She uses words wrong all the time.
She used to work at Hooters.
She does a strange voice when she’s reading.
My friend calls it her “Sexy
Colonel Sanders voice.”
Where the hell have these Rebekahs all been?
And why do I know about them now?
What is it you’re trying to tell me, Lord?
Is it something about Isaac or Esau?
And what about that writing connection?
Tell me, Lord, is The Da Vinci Code real?
A PE
by Eudora Christopher
they say that 1% of the people
in this country are a giant
ape great ape
grape
the ape grows?
sounds good
sounds good to a dog
a ding dang dog
doggone
aaaa
pe
they say that 1% of the people
in this country are a giant
ape great ape
grape
the ape grows?
sounds good
sounds good to a dog
a ding dang dog
doggone
aaaa
pe
HTMLGiant?
Tagz:
html giant,
htmlgiant,
HTMLGiant sucks
More like HTMLittlePerson*.
Read Impossible Mike's HTMLGiant post Portrait of the Artist as the Books He’s Loved.
What'd you notice? His fancy words, like "homogenized"? His politically infused crap words, like "hegemony"?
You know what, Impossible (to stand) Mike? We hear at Happy Dog Mom don't appreciate you trying to stifle the creativity of many writers with your ranting criticisms! Take it somewhere else.
Love,
The Editors
*As per the request of several individuals, we changed this from HTMLMidget to HTMLittlePerson, which is actually more clever, and less offensive. Savor this moment, we will never bow to your whims again, losers.
Read Impossible Mike's HTMLGiant post Portrait of the Artist as the Books He’s Loved.
What'd you notice? His fancy words, like "homogenized"? His politically infused crap words, like "hegemony"?
You know what, Impossible (to stand) Mike? We hear at Happy Dog Mom don't appreciate you trying to stifle the creativity of many writers with your ranting criticisms! Take it somewhere else.
Love,
The Editors
*As per the request of several individuals, we changed this from HTMLMidget to HTMLittlePerson, which is actually more clever, and less offensive. Savor this moment, we will never bow to your whims again, losers.
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