In Poetry, Prose, Surprises on September 24, 2010 at 11:52 pm
A woolly beast hung sheets and towels on the line in the morning and asked how he slept.
–Matthew Shindell, from JESUS AND THE 12 OPOSSUMS
In Another Castle by Matthew Shindell
What stands out about In Another Castle is the creativity and extravagant heart of Matthew Shindell– his poetry is imbued with the sensibility described by Rebecca Loudon as “deep play“– absurdity/playfulness with a solid, thoughtful, often stunning, emotional core. In the poem INC a character is trying to make a sale: Business is booming. It’s booming business./You bring me a nickel and I give you/either a flower or a mushroom. Lucy/took the flower. All that night she dreamt/of people smiling . Now you, you look/like the kind of guy who could use/something special. I have a pumpkin out back/that might be just your size. Seriously/what can I do to get you leaving here today/with this pumpkin? This whimsical sales patter continues to its clincher– Because I know/it is sad when the light of one thing falls/in the space of another. The streetlights/hung in the early fog like something/beautiful strung up for amusement:/some beautiful novelty. It is sad./The lamp obliterates the empty desk. Achingly lovely, yet completely in keeping with the rest of the poem. Read the rest of this entry »
In Prose, Sex, Surprises on September 25, 2009 at 7:37 am
excerpt from I Will Unfold You With My Hairy Hands
The hair monster checked out the ass of a handicapped woman. She was standing with her back turned when the hair monster noticed her panty line against her white tights and thought, hey hey hey. He was a typically lonely hair monster, and often looked at women trying to imagine what it would feel like to caress their human skin.
He kept watching her as she walked away. And that’s when he noticed her hands balled up against her chest, her chin tucked down and rubbing against her knuckles as she shuffled her feet. The hair monster looked away, feeling ashamed, questioning just what kind of hair monster he really was. His mother had raised him better.
(thanks to Crispin Best for pointing me to this story)
In Drama, Poetry, Surprises on September 8, 2009 at 7:07 pm
Rebecca Loudon is punching poetry in the gut and not saying sorry over at Radish King, HERE and HERE and HERE. Remember breathing.
In Art, Hobby, Surprises on July 16, 2009 at 12:32 am
Click on the picture to see where it came from.
In Confessional, Opinion, Surprises on June 28, 2009 at 7:55 pm
There is no longer butter inside these boxes:
I find that misleading.
In Confessional, Prose, Surprises on June 13, 2009 at 10:39 pm
in Kelly Spitzer‘s excellent blog. I just noticed. He talks about my story On Mondays, Francesca Takes the Stairs published in Smokelong Quarterly XVI. Anyway, I like Darby Larson, so it was nice to come across this.