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Aberration Labyrinth July, 2012

Issue #001

A Note From The Editors: Welcome minions and potential minions of Aberration Labyrinth. Please read and enjoy our first issue. We had a great deal of work to sort through, and we feel this first issue is a great representation of what's to come. Write On! Rasputin Bio Paul Hostovsky Much has been written about his improbable rise to the place between the Czarina’s ear and hemophiliac son, and thence the demise of the whole Russian Empire. And yet this new biography I can’t put down focuses on the intertwining twist of his spirituality and sexuality, and hence is getting me all excited about history. It argues this: that one hard fact among all the apocryphal stories stands out alone and unassailed—namely the man had an enormous penis whence all his confidence and rise to power and insatiable sexual appetite, which he tried to inhibit and failed brilliantly throughout his long unlikely career, sprung.

How to open a hot dog stand Mark Brunetti You may open up a hot dog business and your passion may be hot dogs and you may love the hot dogs that you make and perhaps you like the hot dogs with whipped cream or maple syrup and that’s fine you can have those hot dogs readily available when someone wants to try something new but have your sauerkraut and baked beans and ketchup and mustard and let customers relish in the type of hot dogs they know and love. Then when they are tired of their usual hot dogs you give them a hot dog or two for free with peanut butter and let them discover your creation on their own. They’ll love that it’s something new after all the comforts of the old and your hot dog stand will profit and one day you may own a truck shaped like a hot dog. That’s how you start a hot dog business.

I picture him surrounded by noblewomen attending one of his spiritual salons in St. Petersburg,

The Bear Kyle Brosnihan At the circus I saw a bear It walked and sat and danced like a man Trapeze swinging, juggling, and one-arm hand stands. When the bear roared The crowd jested, laughed and cheered At the entertainment that was once something inherently feared. The bear drew a painting Of a beast tearing a man apart It was sold in a lottery as ad hoc “Art”. Oh, what a marvelous piece Beauty and beast so strangely inverted The comical signed Of fear perverted Even more, after the show My money was proved well spent I saw the bear emerge from inside the tent

conspicuously erect beneath his Siberian tunic, speaking piously and passionately about the war between the spirit and the flesh, his famous ravening eyes grazing the tent in his lap

The bear had no chain Paced alone in the woodsy dark-green Wearing no collar, having forever been free

as it strained beneath the wind of his gesticulations. He seduced them with the purest ambivalence:

The bear held its head Pulled off the mask of grizzly skin Preforming yet another trick: revealing a man within.

“Help me, sisters. Relieve me of this great fleshly burden I carry before your heavenly eyes…” And because they desired to help the holy man, and because they desired, they obliged and he got laid more than any soul in Russian history. I always like to take something away from a good biography when I turn back from it to what is my own.

<—- (Ben Mohr, 2012) ©2012 This work is the property of the individual authors within.

Aberration Labyrinth July, 2012

Issue #001

Will someone please shut up that screeching kid, please?

Not An Illusion Any More Ryan Keller

Eddie Raebel

Santa Claus is not real. There’s no bunny with a basket. No fairy with a pouch full of quarters and teeth. And the only things going bump in the night are your parents fucking in the next room.

I imagine who you really are, not who you pretend to be. Not an illusion any more, I cry tears of sadness that gather into pools of happiness.

NIMH ONLINE STORE Jeffrey Park How did we survive without the internet? So easy now to do your shopping, just click through the catalogue, click the items into your basket: panic disorder, high-functioning autism, ADHD, PTSD, OCD — Bi-polar? Why not. Online special on eating disorders this week, don’t forget to copy and paste the redemption code. My siblings sometimes rail about my shopping habits. “You don’t need all that stuff.” As if that had anything to do with the price of magic beans.

LIU GUANGZU HURRIES HOME Jeffrey Park Liu Guangzu hurries home, handlebar in one hand, the other clutching a box of takeaway Canadian food—hot, delicately spiced and tasting like nothing so much as the pristine air of Yukon, with hints of caribou breath, pine and Aurora Borealis. As always, Liu’s family will linger over the aroma of the great white north, but for sure they’ll be hungry again in an hour or so. Rainbow Fate Miya Kressin Rainbow orbs weighing my palm, Dancing across the table as they tumble through fate. Numbers spin and colors shine, Sparkling in the game master’s eyes. Stories spun as numbers decide, Voices twist the tale. Misfortune to those who touch another’s dice, Givers of weal and woe.

Sense of slip Christine Kiefer In eighth grade, after I was move to the front, but before we watched the shuffle separate in two, there were lessons on New Madrid. I’d imaging standing in my plaid uniform only to find myself doing an Armageddon-type of split looking down at flames and pitchfork yielding monsters confirming the lesson of 5th hour guilt 101.

Overpopulated, For A Time Jessica Gleason This place is insidious, A trap, for the mindless-the tourists, a different kind of scum.

One funny thing about classroom lessons is this: I have never since heard such talk of earthquakes. And when I think of young fright I realize this: Unlike my children, I never knew the word terrorist Unlike my father, I never feared the communists.

Bistro tables cluttering sidewalks much smaller than in a big city where this sort of thing is popular.

Things I no longer believe include: Mine will be a death by earthquake. There is a god who punishes. I do not jolt upright at two a.m. thinking of the devil peering into my open and bare private parts as I straddle a moving fault line, girls do not do acrobats with the ground moving beneath them. I will never look down at my hell-fate shouting I should have known better and left Missouri! I am not brave for staying here and this is not a danger zone. There are much graver faults than those that lie beneath my home state crust and my sense of steady and balance has not been intact since long before 1986. ©2012 This work is the property of the individual authors within.

So, the already crowded sidewalks have sweaty civilians rubbing their moist bodies against one—

another in an awkward cramped shuffle.

Aberration Labyrinth #001  
Aberration Labyrinth #001  

First issue of our poetry e-zine.