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Habitual | Parking Lots | Winter 2010 | Volume 1

Habitual Parking Lots

Cont Contents


either place is good to start Rick Shard

maybe it will be interesting, maybe not Mahra Mindlin


painting the house with two more bedrooms Livvy Zakos


oh sister Mahra Mindlin


parking on the dance oor Fern Buzzansky


mediations on a parking lot Rick Shard


ravine Betty Jane


big lots Dick “Richard� Television


fruit ies Tim Ruck Jr.


well, translate Jareth Radcliffe


myself and others Andrew W. Koethe


hot lot Tim Ruck Jr.


tents merge on   Fern Buzzansky

about SCAT scat scat scat   Tim Ruck Jr. suck rocks   Barry Hefeweisen laugh in the daylight   Jareth Radcliffe it’s one of those crisis things   Barry Hefeweisen  

it, it, it, it   Livvy Zakos authors  


wiretap Betty Jane

eithe place good start either place is good to start



Rick Shard

Rick Shard

either place is good to start

er e is d to

Oh do you think he means it I am sitting in the yellow-barred construction n I’m backing up a desire to fort loss

I give you my peace I keep My peace is talking in its sleep My peace alerted me Their hats they soon will swim a boon We felt deception weather

The sun-red d hair hides sun Blue probable ble should I look up My standards ds are low I fly them low w Hmm Good d luck

The tree alerts my lungs Tell tree I’m lunging lung I tell a primary worsted tale He’s on the deck

But dead symbolic ship of state

My stately ship becomes Feet on clutched petroleum matrix

If you push any of the buttons My pyrotechnics fart out of my hand Also there are trees moved by wind This hair is as it was when I arose Feather dance bayonet blown dry The shadows push into irregular lengths I wanna a bit of sunshine under chassis I will before the shadow starts modest How far will that leaf blow Will be swung from rigging

Rick Shard

There was writing in the built of humans They put this here for us to park Some want to sit in the park around Fallen cold and dead Amphibrach and protozoan carnival


The aftermath of cars Go by, go by, go by They drive through and leave Windows closed in case of rain Car occupants now aerate a classroom

maybe it will be interesting, maybe not


Mahra Mindlin

Mahra Mindlin


maybe will be intere ing, m maybe it will be interesting, maybe not

be it e estmaybe Sing me gently, draw me dirty insistent, yellow with three cubic feet of blood and bone boiling up to a hot mouth Orange and convalescent, cat tongue esh

Mahra Mindlin

Painting the picture ten pounds skinnier Here we have painted them with our hands Painting the house with two more bedrooms and no one will remember no one will remember


Meaning is nothing. Who means? Forgotten like long poems and scabs are autobiographies The shrugging on of a shirt Go by, go by, go by Saw it on the news don’t mention it.

Livvy Zakos

painting the house with two more bedrooms


pain the h with Livvy Zakos


painting the house with two more bedrooms

nting house h Want to swallow it whole No, want to feel like I’ve been swallowed here is where the rocks melted I was going to close all your windows halfway my hands are too sticky for this so that the moon couldn’t make you hungry for it dazy, shut the windows each


Livvy Zakos


My standards are low neck of the woods and you ran to canned food

oh, sister

oh, siste Habitual


Mahra Mindlin

Mahra Mindlin

oh, sister

We were young and sunbathed

Oh, sister Doll house moon and mint dress

Oh, sister Glowing, curling hairs, we put on shoes Oh, sister Packed a lunch, wine purses

Oh, sister Root, pinned, ice cold lake

Oh, sister

Mahra Mindlin



I’ll pull you out I’ll pull you out I’ll pull you out

parking on the dance oor

parkin on the dance Habitual


Fern Buzzansky

Fern Buzzansky

parking on the dance oor

ng e e Darkness is a heart turned out. The inside

of someone else’s eyelids.

Shadow people. Bold or awkward naked dirty-looking picked at.

My hands are too sticky. It’s not my Turn anyway. No more

Coming from her eyes.

Fern Buzzansky

Like the breasts of a woman Bent over.


Would taste so mush.

med on a park meditations on a parking lot



Rick Shard

Rick Shard

meditations on a parking lot

dit a konce in stream beds

now here to decay

practical unnatural surface driven on and on and on this parking lot will outlive us all slowly consumed by grasses weeds rain ice snow spring rust will canker and reclaim these cars how will ground compost the wrecks the rubber tires plastic dashboards

our junk will outlive us all

of grass that will not be mowed

Rick Shard

our cars will remain long after we are decomposed and sucked up through roots


yet the assembly lines assemble workers work and work the crude is reďŹ ned the vehicles fueled

ra vi ne


Betty Jane




Betty Jane

blacktop: asphalt: pavement pebbles pressed once in stream beds decay outlives steamroller rubber driven on and on and on all to be reclaimed

rain, heat and cold

weeds rain ice snow spring the dry leaves scrape across conglomeration and asphalt is unforgiving


i dumped my bike at high speed and skidded to the curb esh ďŹ lled in the gaps between tar and pebbles

Betty Jane

there is no such thing as time only the perpetual grove of trees untended

rust will canker and reclaim will somehow decompose? 100 years? 1000? how will ground compost the wrecks rubber tires and plastic dashboards our junk will outlive us all -the crude is reďŹ ned

big lot big lots



Dick “Richard” Television

Dick “Richard” Television

big lots

g ts

wash, hold in your pocket or throw away she still hangs around you like a wet t-shirt on a clothes line One trick of pony, one of whore

My stately ship becomes less stately --

our junk will outlive us all yet the assembly lines assemble workers work and work the crude is refined

shadow people are all bold shouting into tin cans and shells a bit of sunshine under chassis before the shadow starts

Bottom on curb. Feet on tarmac gravel clutched in petroleum matrix.

this is an unintentional werewolf poem my heart was never pure (he said, cliché) darkness is a heart turned out too thick piece of lamented earth the constant intrusion of the unwanted into the serenity of my existence Nice rims lady, really

I wonder what is the difference between a good rock, and a bad rock. One that you would pack up and

diving seaweed through five feet to our pretend island we won’t go fishing before morning, I unroll a suit onto me pulling with sun from around the dimpled corners.


i should study thermodynamics the way i always fixate on the asphalt. how will ground compost the wrecks? the rubber tires, plastic dashboards crunching, hot shallows

Dick “Richard” Television

I’m in hell and I hate t-shirts

I walk with bone and sorrow goodnight my ginger you could be neon in the night. That way I’ll find you, darlin’ translucent skin your veins each road The ones I already know because Hunger is this tiny moving eighth grade Hallelujah sprung up from bleeding teeth

fruit flies

frui flies Habitual


Tim Ruck Jr.

Tim Ruck Jr.

fruit ies

it s Merge on mango Flesh, orange Red green skin flecked stagnant, pulling With sun from around The dimpled corners, Cataract on deep engine Orange, sweet murk, distant rot, Heavy, humid, Hunger, this tiny Moving, inside out, sticky.

New. Not a word, Sweet web of playful and perfunctory acorns, Tempting vulvas, warm, covered bulbs. Deep pouting mouth. A’s teeth Black. Winged camels sucking tea through teeth (short bones). This is heavy hunger, this is rot, long, distant, sweet– Deep corners from around the sun pulling Green skin.

Bulb/covered Acorn, playful Web of sweetness. Afternoon. Word.

Not forgotten or newly made.

Maple (rust colored maybe) hair Draped over, leaking over Your face like paint

Why do you stare at me when i eat,

You’re not even Hungry– Just more want to watch your mouth Working Away. Russet, that’s the word. Sometimes they’re all the same. Sometimes they’re all the same Way. That’s the word, Each piece of your lips Working to watch your mouth, Hungry. You’re not even staring at me, Face paint leaking over you, Maybe colored—maybe rust, maybe maple. Dancing Baptists made


Tim Ruck Jr.


Red sand over bone, Camel sounds, moth wings, Black tooth velvet. A’s make the mouth pout deep.

well, translate

well, tran slate Jareth Radcliffe

well, translate



Jareth Radcliffe


You know what else?

Listening to the word is thirsty business


Jareth Radcliffe


turns out— perpetual pout alone again my mouth. It’s not so much crunching, hot shallows, either place is good to start whispers under the ground, the way my Claire tells her stories.

mys and othe myself and the others



Andrew W. Koethe

Andrew W. Koethe

myself and the others

self d ers drinking Crown Royal and bare knees appropriate Dan Conor toes constricted Rick Ross toes constricted Chad punched Al also also maybe not he expected Chad longer and y’all clustered vosotros not even on cement mermaid bullshit it’s sundress appropriate

Andrew W. Koethe

Little Mermaid on foot try again Little Mermaid on bike try again it’s getting oh-so-ever complicated always asking a girl by myself and you’ll fix me to dance yet come prepared for a platinum man


everything else is easy

hot lot

hot lot Habitual


Tim Ruck Jr.

Tim Ruck Jr.

hot lot


on bare vulvas, warm tulip bulbs rubber tires in stream beds, heat and cold pull you out at the root pull you out your mint dress Nuts and wood goodnight

Platinum-blond janitor man luckier

Jonny, don’t be a janitor I enjoy breasts full of filth bent over every rock, sticky hands inside of rainbows.

Tim Ruck Jr.

Breathless zebra stripes painted onto your crack we must call up a good old traditional masochism, or strategic Big bad things happening now, always happening, now, again, now, then, now


with luck than hairy feet boiling up to a hot mouth – whose feet your feet and I’m here no one is here but me

mer ge on merge on

Fern Buzzansky

merge on



Fern Buzzansky

r e

Foraging well For aging well— I’m not together with anyone. The preposition [For] Mastered me And I will let it.

I am like this parking lot.

Making copies, milling around for a parking spot. These afternoon words aren’t really representatives Of where I live. I want a benevolent Dictator word That murders its contractions and Patronizes its conjunctions— I always by myself and the Others

Like me asking a girl to dance can’t believe, Can’t believe I actually did that, dance,

I actually did get to dance w/ people w/whom I Danced Moving, inside out, panting. You’ll be happy One and the other Round you. I unroll a suit onto me.

Fern Buzzansky

A shadow goes wherever I am. It is not pretentious Does not replicate or Duplicate Me


Which begins to crack. Call company. Fix it.

abou about SCAT scat scat scat

scat scat

about SCAT scat scat scat



Tim Ruck Jr.


Tim Ruck Jr.


parking lots are scatological blacktop: asphalt: pavement cars and cars and trucks and cars squatting in platform heels

wine all the fuck down her wedding dress

that was the beginning that got kicked in your face like paint and you ran to the canned food I am sorry to disappoint you our itchy forearms consume the peas to consume

Andrew W. Koethe

maybe I’ll be an actor in tuxedo character Claire and I are talking about sex the hundredth time I’ve written in parking lots painting the picture ten pounds skinnier shake and flail like a wet t-shirt on a clothes line


tidelike whenever you decide

suck rocks

suc roc Habitual


Barry Hefeweisen

Barry Hefeweisen

suck rocks

ck cks your mouth open to suck traditional

all wet with fresh dew

Barry Hefeweisen


a child on a clothes line, one that you would pack up and wash she hangs around you zebra stripes, the really animal; we have painted them with our hands, a good rock, and a bad rock

laugh in the day light

laug in th day Jareth Radcliffe

laugh in the day light



Jareth Radcliffe

gh he These trips rubbed on our miles and rubbed on each other, itchy forearms, canned food, kicking forbidden.

Cars and cars and trucks and cars

drink before bars made people fall in love with trickery

Jareth Radcliffe

You gave me t-shirt dances, fancy scars, spilled wine and bleeding teeth— that was the beginning.


dictator, pandering.

it’s o of th crisis thing it’s one of those crisis things

Barry Hefeweisen

it’s one of those crisis things



Barry Hefeweisen

one hose is gs shouting into tin cans and shells parking or building, that some were naked

yelling Little Mermaid bullshit and dirty-looking.

one trick of pony, one of whore

that would taste so mush, or maybe I should just sniff and pee, make you hungry for it

Barry Hefeweisen

sister farting in a vest the dimpled corners, the honest buzz my hands are too sticky for this; the shrugging on of a shirt bent over I’m afraid of my soul and my patron saints just won’t goddamn die even a word


hair all wet


wire tap Habitual


Betty Jane

Betty Jane


e young slender you, maple (rust colored) hair draped leaking your face like paint

why do you stare at me when i eat you’re not even hungry I’ll pull you out at the root, raven woods fishes in the

my hands are sticky in the firth with three cubic feet leaves are as constant as the schools of fish

darkness; a heart turned out too thick and crushed big bad things happening now ALWAYS happening

Betty Jane

Cliché: his heart was never pure


knock your head mint dress explain sad love poem, an alienation

it, it, it, it

it, it, Livvy Zakos

it, it, it, it



Livvy Zakos

it, it

it, it, it, it so what we do here is this count— it, it, it, it You hot shallows insistent yellow potholes sounds the same every time what a shirt, shrugging stripes, you crunching saying, “it’s not that” Surly, hot September

Livvy Zakos


No one is here and no one is here and no one is one

Auth Authors

 Rick Shard “mediations on a parking lot” “either place is a good start”

He was born in a polygamist colony in eastern Idaho in 1973. At age fourteen he ran away with a low budget circus which he cannot name for legal reasons. He did not attend college, though he sat in on many poetry workshops at Pikawa College in North Eastern Washington which were taught by the famous poet Bill Brotski. This is Shard’s first publication.



Livvy Zakos “painting the house with two more bedrooms” “it, it, it, it”

Her work has been published by Fence Books, Skanky Possum Press and the Times. She currently works as a part-time librarian in Anchorage Alaska for the University of Alaska-Anchorage and runs a Independent movie theatre located on her 12-acre farm just outside the city. Livvy collects antique shotguns in her spare time among other artillery. Her favorite fruits are mangoes and concord grapes.

 Mahra Mindlin “oh, sister” “maybe it will be interesting, maybe not”

Working her way up at an architecture firm in downtown Chicago, Ms. Mindlin wrote poetry to pass the time on her daily commute from hometown Kenosha WI. When she was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, she moved to Pigeon Forge for a change of scenery. After a couple years of feverish study, she began glass-blowing professionally at Dollywood and other tourist sites, eventually being named one of the area’s Top Ten Premier Attractions in 2007 and 2008. Her poems have appeared in Pigeon Forge Press, Knoxville Star, and The Maryville Masons Journal. She won the poetry prize at the Tennessee Glass Blowers Convention in 2008.

 Fern Buzzanksky “parking on the dance floor”

Is a graphic designer specializing in designs that invisibly counter the intent of the client. She lives in Selvage.

“merge on”

 Betty Jane “wiretap” “ravine”

She was born in Northern Kentucky where she spent the early part of her life. After high school Betty decided to travel across America with her lover Todd. A quarrel between the couple left Betty stranded in New York City–where she new nobody, but managed to secure a job as a cocktail waitress. Currently residing in Queens, New York, Betty finds inspiration in staring out of her window for extended periods of time, picking scraps of paper and plastic off of the ground, and talking with interesting people.


 Dick “Richard Television “big lots”

He is the author of such unpublished books of poetry as Poems to Jog To, Hey—Look—I’m on TV! and The Collected Poems of Dick Television. He has submitted poems to The Paris Review and Poetry and is still waiting to hear back from Chicago Review about his latest batch. He works out of the home and, while he can’t be certain, he’s pretty sure he was nominated for a MacArthur Genius Grant a few years back. He was born in Mali, where he still lives. His work has been published in The New Saharan Review and his first book of poems, Caravanvanvan, will be released in 2011.

Tim Ruck Jr. “fruit flies” “hot lot”

was born in Mali, where he still lives. His work has been published in The New Saharan Review and his first book of poems, Caravanvanvan, will be released in 2011.


Jareth Radcliffe “laugh in the daylight” “well, translate”

has been published twice in the Rocky Heights High School newsletter. He has submitted work to the Iowa Review and the Kenyon Review. He aspires to publish his autobiography and then produce a feature film of it shortly after. His interests include cooking, bird watching, and sword-collecting. Radcliffe once traveled into Indiana, but now he currently resides in Ohio with his cat, Blade.

 Andrew W. Koethe “myself and the others”

He writes poems and chews bubblegum; and he’s all out of bubblegum.

“about SCAT scat scat scat”

 Barry Hefeweisen “suck rocks” “it’s one of those crisis things”

He was born in the town of Wisconsin, Wisconsin in the year 1983. He grew up with a love of mankind known only to those intimate with the refuse of others.


Colophon Book Designer: Erin Killinger Miami University, 351 Print Design Systems, 2010 Poetry by Miami University, 651 English, 2010 Typography: Museo designed by Jos Buivenga, 2004; Avenir designed by Adrian Frutiger, 1988 Š Erin H. Killinger 2010 All rights reserved

Habitual Literary Journal  

The purpose of this project was to design a literary journal based around 19 poems about parking lots. Each poem is 2 spreads. They each alt...

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