//Figuration Nº. 8//“You’re getting older. You’re going to have to live with yourself soon.”, I say as the lunch hour litter of newspapers, crumbs, and soft-pack cellophane ebbs its way between bathroom stalls, into the parking lot, under lockers -only sometimes lapping at the lip of the trash can.
The chaw-stained smile of a hard-hat scarecrow br>
turned corporate confidence man br>
calls to mind shades of a chequered past. br>
His dog shys away from him still.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Posted by Gunter Heidrich at 10:19 PM
Monday, April 29, 2013
past the old school
so there’s Mark?
on the elementary
I’m running past,
maybe eleven, drawing
from a cigarette
he found. Joey’s watching him
standing away plotting
how to save his life.
I won’t just stand by.
I bury the butt in tire chips.
my fingertips stink
like hot rubber.
I shake the memory
but not the smell.
and as I pass her house
I’m still in love with Staci Williams.
I still kiss the stream she drank.
I can still run by her house one night
I even crept into her
backyard but the windows were closed,
shades closed there was a black forest behind
me like a poem.
something about coming home, bicycles.
I thought these people neighbors,
beauty or close-by you want
to be honest for the sake of a butt
you remember when you keep forgetting the world,
17:01.3 or something; the exact time it took
to run down the hill and come back the same.
if you sat and watched you’d only
ever see me running downhill.
Posted by James Maguire at 7:26 PM
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
It's grown quiet around here. Here are some prompts that will hopefully lead you out into the street from those foggy white margins. They are in the past tense but put them in the present. Give them a presence and a context, a reason to exist:
a. The afternoon grew dim as the wind whistled through the window and the sound of an ice cream truck clattered off into the distance.
b. S/he stood in (his/her) underwear as a glop of jam slid from (his/her) knife onto the floor. “Today’s going to be a good day”, s/he said.
c. A cigarette flicked from a passing window bounced down the roadway; “CHAOS 2000”, "Who are you?”, “Pressure Treat the DEAD” are written large on the overpasses. Smoke from someone burning their garbage in a backyard by the highway drifts over the hedge.
Posted by Gunter Heidrich at 4:06 AM