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sy roth, kate winter. Silent Castanets

By Sy Roth

It simply is that way sometimes, like squeezing toothpaste from an empty tube, the inclination to slam the pen against the wall when the scribbler’s itches are lost and words do not cram the page with dances— Tarantellas, boisterous Flamenco explosions, and castanets clicking a word volcano spewing words that zing across the lines songs of jubilation, of unwrapped ideas, Christmas presents piled eye high. Unwrapping visions, exposing them to the light of day, stroking their soft hairs titillating them to arousal only ends like vampires exposed to light turning them into sand a hollow vacuity behind. Only naked lines, hopeless meanderings stretch endlessly across the page accompanied by a chorus aaarghs and growlings devoid of passionate murmurs, the susurrations of like-minded words. No thoughts-only dolorous scribbling. This way (?) forever.

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Spring in the City By: Kate Winter

Raspberry Coffee on the first day of spring Walking tall down Holbrook Four Horns conversing against the bruised concrete Men in light jackets crowd on corners & at Gas station curbs Comparing stories Hands and feet flying - dancing as they speak Veiled women push carriages their midnight eyes avert as they float past The shade takes away and cools the skin Goose bumps along sweater lines No one wants to be inside Where walls soak up heat and light where the winter air still lingers unclean stagnent. We will drive until sundown holding the day against our chests.

Profile for Chris Talbot-Heindl

The Bitchin' Kitsch January 2013 issue  

The Bitchin' Kitsch is a zine for artists, poets, prose writers, or anyone else who has something to say. It exists for the purpose of open...

The Bitchin' Kitsch January 2013 issue  

The Bitchin' Kitsch is a zine for artists, poets, prose writers, or anyone else who has something to say. It exists for the purpose of open...