Vol. 3 â€˘ March/201 4
selected literature with illustrations
By Michael Prihoda
make it holy how do you (un)(a)(d)dress a woman and make it holy?
permission is the $31 .50 monthly phone bill my permission to live?
too much? the facial features of a wall socket sexual overtones in the bedroom who has seen too much?
“The (Magazine) Rack” by Keenan Schott
Sarah Jessica Parker Airbrushed and photoshopped Virtually unidentifiable Cate Blanchett “Standing on the brink of something exciting” Holding an invisible cigarette that rests in an invisible cigarette holder Janet Yellen Stares thoughtfully into the distance Old as shit The self-importance of human beings Is a funny thing To me Kate Gosselin Slave driver Giving the most furious thumbs up ever
Khloé Kardashian Pregnant and showing I don't know “who's the daddy” Andi Eigenmann Strong, fearless, and ready to face anything In a lacy sports bra The self-importance of human beings Is a funny thing To me Joe Manganiello Ruggedly handsome with salt and pepper stubble Having trouble reading the board Jane Seymour Stiff as a stiffy Hopes to inspire people with her 62 year old bikini body. Nicole Richie Anorexic Again Walking on the grass instead of the sidewalk
The self-importance of human beings Is a funny thing To me Kent Moyer Modern Samurai? More like modern comb over! The self-importance of human beings Is a funny thing To me
by Gene Feenie i begin to compose, its all a joke any way whey and soy, chiecks and bois down on the CCR and the TV still Knockin/ Life hard-rockin' troll-stompin' flips and clicks, flips, and trix sing a song to sang sang/ sangria sangre sange let the flow pull up the zipper and drive away in cursive flow through the pinhole and thread stutter0chat gibberish ohm through the newish moon zoom in on the bluish bloom;
UNITY Cut/... i saw dem today, the sky by gray, day be fly gone by and by down the bayou. Wishing still to be beside her, aching for warmth, yet i know not even whom she be. throw up the past and begin on into the future, wheat grass, and chlorophyll stomach full of air and pill \\ let the medicine work its way on in let the story Begin again.
by Tyler Meier The whippoorwills invented you. That summer, there was a careful measure of muddy river that you pulled like a leash through the lowlands, like you and the country were a dog. That summer, someone twisted all the maples in their sockets. You renamed the season studio apartment and made it part of your big city. I drove my name through it like a bus. What is not a passenger? What is the penalty when the rent is due on what you believe in, and you stuff the mailbox full of lilies? Night is the biggest animal I know. Night says Letâ€™s use this cornfield as a mission statement. Night says
Hereâ€™s a little starlight, ground lovers.
You write your name over and over in the sky that is a crypt full of pain, that is a technical history of almost anything. Sap-Moon the soapbox we were never not on. Sap-Moon like a song we sing to the windows in our houses. What a pocket does to the spirit: memorizes it in the language of stowaways. All summer you said: Tell me this is a big country I gave you a mason jar full of rain. Here is your crystal ball, I said. Tell me what will become of me.
by Jahnavi Delmonico dollop of mother-candy round, industrious send away the bashful dirt sail home in a hard boat of pain like masts shattering on waves as loving as a husband and the two of you unwrap chocolate bars together sitting in bed
Ataraxia is a monthly zine organized, edited, and printed by rasasvada. We publish various projects online and in limited paper copies. Find more poems, stories, articles, art and info about submitting your own work at rasasvada.net.
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