Ataraxia Vol.4

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Vol. 4• April/201 4

selected literature with illustrations


by Christopher Mulrooney

on the button as simple as discourse to any refined ape sink one on the golf course Beulah peel me a grape

mysteries of darkness only a voice then a dim silhouette it might be anything like the famous cat

symphonic poem the prelude a very nervous thing is sometimes given separately the main body of the work passes along the stages of the myth to reverence and exaltation

Now They Got to Pay for It by Dylan Wagman

Talking about colour colour! Ohhhh 1 989 when Pierre Trudeau and Brian Mulroney Ooooo Ooooo that was fun. Yonge and Lawrence working with Pierre Trudeau for insurance for the fat punani that sounds delicious doesn’t it A-little-bit-skinny-one? Skinny one can’t get a piece of the pie cause they only like them fat punanis. Yeah, well, that’s the way they talk. They call everything punani and blood clot You gotta have the blood clot to wipe off the clot. You know what I mean baby? That’s what their grandmas teach them long time ago from Jamaica. With the Caribbean sea. The white woman.

The white woman. Strawberry blonde. It’s the special. It’s a tradition to eat raspberry cheesecake in the bedroom with an old bitch. And they deserve it. Cause it’s just too much. See the housewife. The housewife just wants to sit home all day and cook and clean and be tired and watch videos. That’s why she is where she is today on Dixie. You see she’s always tired She goes, “Aaahh I’m too tired to have sex honey.” The sex was too hard for her this month. She figured the Canadian guy was nice from Winnipeg Yeah, that’s what I mean she chose the guy with the hernia And you know what? They’re all fat pigs look like that in Scarborough. On Neilson and Sheppard. Thanks god he’s a white man.

Madrid, Before a Recession by Ashleigh Rajala

the pavement throbs throbs throbs but melts by night a thousand suns a thousand guns will sleep under its breast in the air comes the stealth a rabid heat a cooling melody an iambic attack to the skin a shudder a shake la bamba bedside manner rap tap tap along a cast iron fence masoned epicentres scrapbooked through history thin horses fat pigs black paintings white palace the smoke is rising lifting clearing burning el adios

Excerpts From Dust by Chris Drew


a coffee cup left a ring on my air mattress


“how’s that sovereignty?” “the beige walls?” boxes and bags all over (even in the streets; the kitchens too) as christmas decorations (or any holiday’s) in the attic or basement like fruit cellar sustenance ain’t survival a wild drive? little nail and pin pricks sticky tack and tape residues marking affectionate memories of receiving godly truths in tinsel and electric lights

unconditional love infinite of foreign celestial bodies sparkle order in the pass of time dreaming childlike effervescence bygone colors into cryptic forlorn apocalypses making the best wishes out to everyone eyeing empty space alone into unbeing paying homage to the empty vessels


staring past plumes accidental turning out pockets for beer counters chasing lonely bed the window is cracked fresh air sunlight reflection edges twinkle in line with my belly my brain clothes on the floor

imitating holy mounds and the stripped arms christ like perpendicular i see flowers on my wall on my sheets on my shoulders and wrists gorgeous prose in the horizontal shadows projecting themselves as true signs of time passing

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

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