Page 1


This inaugural issue of RawPaw is published in the spirit of adventure and dedicated to our friend Ryan Miller. Submissions for RawPaw 2 will be collected until February 25, 2012 and is to be released during SXSW in a 500–print run. Please submit any literature or visual art to

This free art publication is made possible thanks to an independent donation from Aubrey Kauber.

Girl and Truck bronze as the wind full bodied as the sky ragged ripples dogged happily on us have you no shame, girl? you’ve been drinking from my bowl? hula hooped with my cat’s poop? antiquated my aunt’s antiquities to piles of trinkets and riddles and stones, liquidy hapless, lusty and harkening, you rumble jeering some-truths and marketing whiskey plated books displaying questions acrossed affections both of us in a barn and neither of us gives a single feathers fuck humble sighs stumble across a lofty echoes metered foot, jump (yeah) in the stillness afterwards, we reconcile our differences i whisper in your ear my greatest desire “i really want a toyota” (fade out)


–Talib Abdullahi


Turquoise Dream when you are still asleep I kiss your naked back thinking about your slender hands precise your notes all little lights gliding ink I see estuaries maps documenting rivers and other known bodies of water I watched you sip water from a glass through a blue straw like magic everything seemed to float

taste the ocean when you are in Portland I want to taste its salty water on your lips when you come home I dream of blue rooms braided melodies the lightning of your soul you are a glass of water there is the turquoise ocean that spills over New Mexican Mountains and there is you –Cole Bee Wilson



A Dog Farted while sipping tea I was summoned to sit and listen to music

in the living room

I sat down on the couch beside you I leaned my sleepy head into your shoulder

the smell of your winter coat then suddenly... the dog farted you got up and left the room lazy, I leaned back taking sparing

shallow breathes –Cole Bee Wilson



Birthed Death God is a house, not a home; our sun is burning out; we are bodies of water; and you are dying. The macrocosm, that birthed death, may not seem plausible; nonetheless, one should surely smile. –Ryan Miller

Untitled Zeus, Cronos, Uranus, (Chaos) murdering and castrating their fathers in line laughing at their having trouble learning how to use a cell phone It makes us grin to hear stories about how only one hundred years ago everyone still traveled by horse and died of Polio "Go on, tell us another one about the war!" Proclaim your love for black and white film! Tell me about how much more natural it feels to type with a typewriter! Filled with a nostalgia for things we never had but mostly a longing for what we stand to inherit Draw your latest invention from its sheath and twist the blade when you stab; one day we too will swim laps with flailing strokes in a pool of our own blood, until our last pathetic cough our entire lives mocked before us by the son we forgot to eat

Agave tiny infinity your wings planted macabre fair growing only by degrees thus the nomads grounded call you patience

of sol

–Ryan Miller

–Sebi de la Mata 7




What is our cognitive duty? To respond is to initiate the quest, and shoulder the rapture of ambiguity. Come together knights of cautious equilibrium, so we may ride out into the fringe of pure connection. Let us leave a stimulus shadow of honest intervention on the trashcans along the way. 窶田ogdut 11


Field Notes Floating down the river Ease drop On a couple chirping charming hymns Black oaks bartering oxygen My knees grow Weak doe Come to drink up from the riverside Cutis Ans(w)erina* cooking up inside And I love it here But I left it there For the fall 22 on the buffalo blue Dropped 25 on the tongue tip, true And I sink Into The earth

The only way to take Is to take it easy Like Bees pull nectar pleasing plants with pollen The only way to keep is to keep it real To Deposit dreams is one thing but you learn from withdrawing In the morning we woke to Nimbus needless to say it was Tlaloc’s set sights sacrifice Suffice to say I’m archaic in the way I’m


Re born It takes a parergon To Lift my raft up off the river bed When we make it round the bend We can lay our heads Beneath the sunlight Curious cirrus Dot the broken blue above A reflection of the ripple ripening white as doves I’m in love And the storm moves on And the fawn grows fond Because the lawn grows long Over the sap sweet pond And as a humbled pawn I sit to ponder dawn And the list goes on... And the lists go on... –Nathan Wilkins

* The scientific term for goosebumps. 13

Marmalakes is a three-piece folk-pop band from Austin, Texas. Their most recent record, Even Clothed, was self-released on November 15, 2011. Poet Thax Douglas recited the two poems that follow introducing the band at two of their shows in 2010, the first on July 6th at the Cactus Café (debut EP Wonder Winds

release show) and the second at The Parish Room on October 13th. Chase Weinacht, lyricist and guitarist of Marmalakes, wrote two poems in direct response to Douglas’s introductory pieces for this publication. Listen:


7/9/10 Wendy’s for Cactus Café hovering in midair the stork feels it can stop flying massaging its tired wings as it tumbles over farmland and forest with a billion other raindrops, seeds that give up their citizenship in Seedland as soon as they're planted.

a badger squeezing the essence of his badgerhood before him so he has something to squeeze into before retiring for the night with the stars twinkling up there like problems that'll solve themselves but in the morning his essence has already molted ahead again, a hide and seek game that'll only end when the essence has tired of playing with the body.

–Thax Douglas

–Thax Douglas


This Animal

for David Halpern In a tile-pace Nerveland stall-room I stacked each potential flub in one chest, I tumbled from stake to stake marking the landscaped yard at one end: face-fall, another: eh…okay, the opposite end: silent awe. In the middle I paused. I, hovering looked up, found my spectacles in a magic wall that made the room bigger. “Why are you here?” One completed record. Two, a full room ten feet away waiting to see this band, this show, our band, our show. “What?! What could calm me?” A father, not mine, but close, collected a shake, gathered a wrapping, handed me my visa for a working holiday jaunt in Confidence. I am one of a billion others that may or may not be collected. –Chase Weinacht 15

10/13/10 Buenos Aires Café for the Parish

In forty-five minutes, three squeeze a twinkling of their body of work before them. In a fraction before, one speaks a penned inkling of what their work means to him.

A sonic animal spreads itself for the sake of the room’s attention. If the shed essence reaches just one, it is enough to keep up the game of seek and seek. If the essence finds a mere few, it may never tire of playing with the animals of sound. A room, attentive, forgets it is in parts for the sake of this animal. Or, at best, perhaps a fraction of the room imagines the beginnings of the parts to be penned upon retiring for the night to their homes. –Chase Weinacht 16

It Plays In Peoria It plays in Peoria:

And I’ll be damned

I went from Washington

I know it

To Illinois

If I don’t remember those

On a lark

Seven days of Cambridgeshire

Singing bland as could be

Ten in Sofia

You said,

And lies about how I’ve ever been to

“Describe what you feel, see”


So I grabbed that buzzard


‘Round it’s willing frazzled neck

The crowing daily haiku verse

Toward familiar wet climes

That is my only sweet dessert

Of Oregon

On this planet made all everywhere

And lord

Of simply different shades

The ugliest words came out of my

Of dirt

monkey mouth and hands So I painted myself in hummingbird

–Adeleine Wildersmith

colours And now I eat lightning bugs for breakfast In Texas



New Moon in Cat Eye The drip drip drop of thoughts of black but more than that... I love you oh mother of mine (you who love/queen almighty of wine and goodnights) ... the words above were written to prepare me for the words below ... Welcome to the things I am about to say: We are here in the airstream trailer just sitting here and being on drugs and talking about drugs and how they create wormholes and how we should enter them. And across all the air waves I picked up on hints of our humor, sometimes heavy on the bridges of reality. And Metacognition told me that I was thinking about writing more. He wanted to know why these nuts tasted so good ... I heard a voice and it told me.. and yelled from my mouth, "it's not what it is!!" ... and now looking back I just don't know anymore than I did ever. The doors sounded so delicious And then hid in my words for me to find later. Damn its hot in the middle east. There is a poor boy in a pot sitting in Arabia, asking himself if he is a djini but he can't answer that for himself,

you will be a djini when wishes are needed and it is possible to grant them. But for now just sit in the pot and chill. But between yes and no and ships masts swaying and horse carriages creaking, I found myself at a thought and it was of this and of everything and of milk. But who can say that my way is right when right is Wright and all of a sudden I'm trying to fly an airplane. Because I'm walking about the flying brotherhood. The cat bit me and I remembered why I love cats. And then within the feeling of farting I found some fucking peace!!!! Not for long but since it's the split seconds we live for he didn't care. No one really cares and if they do I'm sorry. I really need some Birkenstocks goddamn it. It's all me by the way, all these tenses and people and thoughts, you just got a picture of me on the inside, now take that and run with it until you can't remember it and don't care to. Just like everything else we take into ourselves being the denizens of media that we are. And not to leave you on such a political note but does it really matter? And I tip tip tip toe out of the room. Goodbye. –Montsho Jarreau Thoth





Talib Abdullahi Baylor Estes Jono Foley William Kauber

Adventure To Ryan in Egypt Flung in a jasmine burst and with buoyant eyelids you left from our spangled malaise to spires and lanterns

nibbling papyrus teats with the lotus slouchers in Alexandria. You were birthed in fall like a baby giraffe.

Designer Inside Cover 1–2

Angie Calderon Caitlin Eddy Jono Foley


Derya Kadipasaoglu

kneaded into the paste of past hair and sweat.


Kelly Brand

I thought of you, your face catalogued in smoke


Sean David Morgan

A wisp in the schism of distance.


I am here sinking into the spread

Yesterday as lungs undulated with plant steam witnessing marble lectures.

Cairo, the fulcrum of dissonance

A wound, or a moonbeam will break the stasis.


In the square a carapace is damned by gun light while our tussled people fiber stays intact from the mist of needles, for now. Your friends are here.

Dilated pilgrims swaying tenderly like fragrant reeds on a cliff side

until a wet murmur lifts my lilting eye

and I read your name in the glyphs on the sky. –William Kauber


8, 13–14 17–18 19 21–22

Brandon Wilson Kelsey Heimerman Nick Gregg Katie Rose Pipkin

Special thanks to Bonnie Khandpur, Chris Davis, and Trinity Hall. 23



Raw Paw Issue 1  

full first issue

Raw Paw Issue 1  

full first issue