Issue: Hyperanalysis (October 2015)
You and your nectarine smile: Sweet, tipped, juicy, wild with hungry fruit flies attracted to the sunshine setting in that puckered lip. Me, a spider small enough to live within the window glint, hunts with jealousy, lustily consuming the arms and legs and eyes. So […]
words from The Veteran Homeless Man,
stationed yet again. the exit stairs of the 42nd street
morning A train.
he don’t beg. his existence of coins in a steel calf.
blond hair. a corner den of receding stains laugh lines strumming the mold.
half-glance. keep movin’ up.
“you allllll better start smiling or I’ll shoot you with my guitar.”
There are three jars on my dresser that I would like to explain:
One contains your pencil shavings.
One contains your paper frills.
One contains your dandruff.
I collect your pencil shavings very easily when you use the dinky little
that so often results in a floor full of pencil shavings. It is my civic duty
to collect these
because they came from your pencil and yours is the pencil of a great
mind— your great mind. These collected pencil shavings symbolize
your collected thoughts and ideas which you write on frilled spiral
And you leave your frills on your desk and on your floor when you tear
your paper out to hand it to our teacher. I see these frills and I know that it is my civic duty to collect them. And I must collect them because they come from your paper on which you use your pencil to record your great ideas from your great mind.
As for why I collect your dandruff, the answer is obvious:
It comes from on top of your head
and it is closer to your magnificent brain
than I will ever be.
I walk along the city streets along the River Lee. I swim through the flow of people on the pavement. Tunnel-visioned. I drift with the motion, only stopping at crosswalks. I let the gush of cars surge forward while pedestrians watch from the safety of […]