Curbside Splendor e-zine January 2012
Curbside Splendor e-zine January 2012
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Curbside Splendor Publishing Curbside e-zine January 2012 ISSN 2159-9475 Poetry:
Poem of Sinners and Saints by Michael Lee Johnson Richard J. Daley by Charles Bane, Jr. Love Story by Natalia M. Vigil Fiction:
Tutoring by Addy Evenson Pasty by Peter Clarke
Photography and cover by Elizabeth A. Soroka Editors – Leah Tallon, Victor David Giron
2
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Michael Lee Johnson is a poet, and editor, from Itasca, Illinois who lived 10 years in Canada during the Vietnam era, published in 25 countries. He runs five poetry sites and can be found at: http://poetryman.mysite.com.
Photo by Elizabeth A. Soroka www.elizabethasoroka.moonfruit.com
3
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Poem of Sinners and Saints By Michael Lee Johnson
Sinners hurt. Moonlight cracks open like a walnut, spreads soft light across open sky. Sinners hurt. They dart to alleyways, bury themselves behind their own trails shaking fists at the sky; hiding their nasty nonsense in shame, city buildings rattle their bricks, mortar loose at the rib cage. Where do the sinners break out from when their deeds are exposed? All the men think they are sword men daggers in the darkness. All the women think they are entry points spotted lean on the sidewalks past midnight, nothing but shadows, the twitching of lips. Women look for no good in their makeup kits; no one cares about how men are tempted, jackals and scavengers in the night. Thunder hammers at their ears, rain urinates the streets corners, mice crawl away to small places. Footsteps cry in mud holds stuck as sunlight starts to sprout. Misdeeds trip into each other blind
4
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
as they race off to their morning jobs; sprinkles everywhere. Its early morning, crows fly. Sinners hurt; staples in women’s lungs, staples in men’s ribs.
5
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Charles Bane Jr. is a globally published poet. His work has appeared in print and online at The Indian Diary, The Criterion: An International Journal in English, Clutching at Straws, Durable Goods, Word Pond, and museumviews. com, among others. Curbside Splendor published his first book The Chapbook in 2011 and plans to publish his second New Poems in 2012.
Photo by Elizabeth A. Soroka www.elizabethasoroka.moonfruit.com
6
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Richard J. Daley By Charles Bane Jr.
He lunched with his guard up always, in the top floor of the club membered by the enemy; I was one, from the right side of the tracks and Irishmen whispered in his ear that my Dad was suspect. He knew it already; he knew everything so when he looked at me his eyes might have narrowed. I was reed thin, pale and resigned to a short destiny in the city he overuled. Come here, he said and I sat beside his carefully tailored suit. His eyes opened their confessional screen. Can I call you..., he said my name. Yes, your honor, I said. Call me Dick he said to my dying face, and call me anytime you need.
7
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Natalia M. Vigil is the oldest of five sisters born and raised in San Francisco, California. Her collaborative work has appeared in numerous shows around the Bay Area. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Mills but began her writing career in first grade when she wrote the poem, "You Make Me Glitter Up", for her teacher, Mrs. Kahn.
Photo by Elizabeth A. Soroka www.elizabethasoroka.moonfruit.com
8
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Love Story
By Natalia M. Vigil our fierce animal broke barracks. there's a reason they say not to cage animals. freedom only leads to a few moments sprinting, forelegs at full force, a quick bullet to the loin. predator becomes hunted. gunned down on some San Francisco curbside. forced to lay down our busted spirit, bloody coat, uncovered heart pulsing, a desperate orchid’s song like a dispossessed mate in heat. and me, with ruined palms pleading for some damn normalcy.
9
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Addy Evenson recently graduated from high school and intends to pursue writing as a career. Her work has previously appeared in Inkblot, Prime.
Photo by Elizabeth A. Soroka www.elizabethasoroka.moonfruit.com
10
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Tutoring
By Addy Evenson She walked out in the vacant parking lot under the orange streetlight and sat against the ledge. Jeans torn. On the absurdisms of the La Habra High School life. Sidewalk garnished in dried black gum. Penises drawn on everything. The words fuck you, whore, Danny I love you scrawled on the curb at her feet. Her shoes weren’t tied. “I feel, sort of, like, unhinged,” she said. “You know what I mean?” “Nope.” “I mean that if everything went my way I’d just break out of these clothes and go running across the football field. You’re not one of those guys, are you? The ones that believe in keeping yourself, like, bottled up?” “No, indeed I am not,” I said, and adjusted my glasses. The allergies started to burn up my nose. “And I am not one of those chicks. The kind that just does whatever she wants with her body and her mind. No I am not.” She got up.
11
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
“I didn’t think you were. But please, my Mom’s made dinner and I’m going to be late. Which problems did you need help with?” “Let’s smoke a bowl, shall we?” “You’ve got drugs?” I cried. She laughed. “Look I’m not trying to pressure you into it or anything like that. I can smoke on my own time. Just turn around and I’ll…” “You could get suspended for that. We’re on school property.” “I know you’re afraid of it.” “I am not afraid.” “Eh, you don’t gotta lie to kick it. I get it. You’re afraid because someone once told you it was a bad thing to smoke. You never considered why they told you it was bad or why they made that law up to begin with. Do you know why they did?” “Why?” “It was racism. Back in the time of Jazz the white women were all swept of their feet by the ‘coloreds’ and their Mary J. The white man couldn’t stand for it so he stigmatized the stuff. Do you know what that means, Brain?” “Well, whatever, it’s still illegal.”
12
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
“Do you know what else is illegal? Imposing on our civil liberties.” She took a pipe out of her pocket. It was small and red and orange and blue. “Put that thing away,” I said. Ten minutes later we were in the field under the purest night I had ever seen in this part of town. The sky was the color of dandelion wine. The sprinklers set off. The night was long and it was meant to be longer but she was lost in a heap at my feet. The world came by like snapshots. Bright gelatin snapshots alive and succinct on the grass. I stared at the ceiling of the earth. “I feel like something is swallowing me,” I said. “I’m being eaten alive by my own embarrassment. I feel like I’m going to die soon, and no one can hear my heart. It wants water. Only I think that if I could take off my clothes and run through the sprinklers in that field, I’d feel safe.” She watched me in my dream. I felt alive and laughed till I sank through the turf. “You’re trippin',” she said. “I’m really high, I can’t even tell what I’m saying,” I said. “It’s like I can hear my thinking, am I saying this? Am I saying this or am I thinking this? Am I thinking this? Am I repeating myself am I repeating myself am I repeating myself?” “Do you want to go through the sprinklers?” “I don’t even know why they’re on this late at night.”
13
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
She laughed laughed laughed. She ran into the field and jumped and danced and threw herself into the air under the sprinklers and the water fell like crystal around the sequins of her shirt. In my mind they were prisms that lit up violet and yellow and green against her skin. As she laughed I saw a flash of teeth, of lips, and of honey colored hair. “I want some popcorn,� I said.
14
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Peter Clarke holds a BA in Psychology from Western Washington University and recently completed his JD from the University of the Pacific, McGeorge School of Law. His short fiction has appeared in Hobart, Elimae, Locus Novus, Denver Syntax, Orion Headless, Pure Francis, The Legendary, and elsewhere. Native to Port Angeles, Washington, he currently lives in Sacramento, California.
Photo by Elizabeth A. Soroka www.elizabethasoroka.moonfruit.com
15
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Pasty
By Peter Clarke I should not have told them espionage, thought Dukeman on the run, clutching his briefcase, out of breath after twenty steps. They interrogate me over a pasty. Asking why can’t I pay in smaller change. Maybe because I am a classy international playboy. In what way, they ask? Espionage, of course. That was my mistake. Should have said fashion. Or opera. Too many patriots to take a threatening joke from a foreigner. I just wanted that pasty. “Stop him!” “Stop him!” “Stop him!” “Stop him!” That particular beef and potatoes one. Looking so crispy and bulging. The dimple of hot brown insides oozing. Would like to tongue right inside it on a park bench someplace where we would not be bothered. Not by English bastards or anybody— French, Germans, Asians: I hate all. And why not. While this yelling hounds after. That’s him! Menace to the queen! Spy! Thief! Smart-ass! “Huh?”
“What?” “Who?”
“Me?”
I don’t know anything about this. I’m just out for a jog. Cheers. Top of the— Ahhh.
16
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
Dukeman tripped over some hundred-year-old cobblestones. Did not fall but there went the briefcase flying. Crashing open—contents aspew. And so instead of feeding pasty crumbs to thankful pigeons, I’m bending over to peck at my scattered capital— —Adding to the meaninglessness. Because that is what in fact accrues. On days when you—admit it—accept losses the same as gains. Mesh both into focus. Finally to see yourself the heir to everything. Now trying to explain this encompassing apathy. When what I have is the expanse of my sover’n self, and all I want is a focking pasty.
17
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
About the Photographer Elizabeth A. Soroka
Elizabeth lives, paints and does artly things in Tucson, Arizona... find her at www.elizabethasoroka.moonfruit.com
18
Curbside Splendor
January 2012
www.curbsidesplendor.com
19