1
A Vietnamese man
with a shrink-wrapped torso
sits in a JPEG, 170 x 239. Starving.
It is black and white.
2
The dead of Baltimore
aboard a coffin ship
underlined in a book.
Well thumbed.
3
A mountain of people,
dead. Not useless:
Every structure demands
support.
4
He is greeted by a 50 y/o
penis. Gnarled.
I met a traveler from an antique land.
Ginger root. Carrot w / hair. Look upon my work. Nothing remains.
5
An orange woman is criticized
for her beach photos. She appeared
to be strangling her child
with her prosthetic hand.
6
On the weekends,
the cemetery was jammed
with numerous
concurrent funerals
7
OMG!
Look What Cameroz
Diaz does on the beach
>> click hear.
8
true mourning is really
true moaning
not in the cemetery or rooms but
in the bedroom. Call it: after Mallarme.
9
She said: Mr trump I am a nobody
that works hard,
a felon,
a recovering addict (11yrs)
I am kind, I pay taxes, I do not lie cheat
or steal
I pray to god
and am confident that you will be
the next president we need you to run this country
I am very scared for my children my grandchildren
and there children
if Hilary makes it
I pray we have a jfk day
10
she had lupus
her hair was orange
she is dead
nobody remembers her name
but we remember
her dog.
11
you wrote the story of
the ducks
it was about me, she said.
It wasn’t. it was about ducks.
12
the man said I am sexy
because im nuts! He downed
a pint + punched the air
she was impressed by
nothing
13
for sale: baby shoes never worn?
I could never write a story this good
Said the writer. How about:
For sale: my cock. Tall, fit and hung married guy lookin
for a place to jack before I go home.
Straight but love to watch big cocks blow loads.
Porn, a place and a pal or two is what I need.
I’m good looking and fit. White collar. Don’t make this complicated – let’s just do it.
My dick is big and beautiful and ready to unload.
Take that Hemingway, said the writer.
14
she said 9/11 was a conspiracy
I said your head is a loaf of bread
She said no, the towers were never there
I said who hired you
She said ive taught on a desert island
With lots of un-shoed children
Un-shoed is not real, I said
She said nothing is real
I said you’ve never taught before
Like, what is the present perfect
And she said there is no perfect present
To which I said no, no, you don’t understand
She said America is the Taliban
I said who was Bin Laden then
She said he was a baker from Brownsville
I said your veins are showing
They’re blue and offputting
She said 9/11 is 911
Is it a coincidence it shares the
Same numbers
As our emergency line
I said no
I said your hair
What do you use to
Grease it down.
She said
Please, my hair is not mine
It is seabiscuit’s
The horse, I asked
Yes, she said
The horse.
*
Oliver Zarandi is an editor and writer. His latest stories appear in Hobart, Vol 1 Brooklyn and Witchcraft Magazine. He is working on his novel, Bodies, which is about bodies. Contact him on @funhousemag
Friday, August 26 2016