Day 1 “Why am I here?” I ask the universe, but the universe is silent. I hunger for life, though I am surrounded by death. I steep in its miasma; it warms me, nurtures me, nourishes the frail tendrils by which I cling to this precarious precipice of existence. In death I find life. The […]
Archive | November, 2009
In Private Quarters Our Neurosis Grows
In private quarters our neurosis grows and these are the blues which everyone knows when a full-length mirror inevitably shows the humiliation of trying on clothes. NASA thought they closed the deal but lunar lunacy would soon reveal that a detrimental moment was hard to conceal when Neil Armstrong slipped on a banana peel. Mick […]
A Positive Word to Your Mother
Creative Types
Hate List
I loathe, despise, detest, deplore being cornered by a bore. Motormouths who never cease should be dropped in boiling grease. Folks who chew with mouths ajar call for feathers smeared with tar. Toothpicks used in public places turn diners into damned disgraces. Drunken, cursing, loud-mouthed guys are of humans most despised. And last of all […]
Corporal Punishment: Winner of the Feathertale Pruning Poetry Contest
Winner of the Feathertale Pruning Poetry Contest Thanks to all poets for their submissions. We laughed, we cried, we shook our heads in confusion, but one of you really stood out. Christy J. Olsen pruned the hell out of his poem — cutting letters from the last word of each line before brown-nosing her way […]
Portrait of author Richard Taylor
Answers to Last Month’s Quiz
Here are the answers to last month’s quiz. Some of you found this challenging. The million dollars is still unclaimed. 1. The gall bladder of an egret. 2. While skiing in the Alps (specifically, in G sharp minor). 3. A trick question! You probably answered “an oil-based compound and morphia combined,” but the actual answer is every Pope […]
Anti-Sestina Written for Poetry Teacher Who Assigned Me a Sestina
I hate sestinas! I really do. Believe me, I am usually not one for mad outbursts for their own sake. I know others do just to further their own agenda, but I bet there are at least two, no three, other people in this class who feel the same way as me and it is […]
A Character Sketch . . . In which we meet Rick
I saw the Walkman first: a bright yellow with SONY across the front that connected to the waistband of its owner’s acid-washed jeans. The man behind the jeans went by the name of Rick. I knew this because the letters of his name were tattooed on the fingers of his left hand, which hung forlorn […]