mot behind the cursor

For Thinksgiving, the men and I spoke collaborative poems in the manner of Joshua Beckman and Matthew Rohrer's Nice Hat, Thanks. The composition process involves going around the group with each person adding either only one word or one item of punctuation and then the next person goes. Below are a few, with a highlight, I think, at "Furniture Polish". Sub-mental advisory warning: You'll notice a sexually preoccupied male pubescent volunteered to play the muse. 'Twas grand and the three of We was up till mot fools leap in the nigh.

RASBERRY JUBILEE
The bench-maker binged through Christmas. Often dawn woke, early milkmen dreamt of bench-maker binges.

YAWN BURGLARS
Through jaws of cold, I breathed wet dreams. Lost dalliance dappled. What a long time. Never forget me. Always think crude cars are sleek not. Pussy, Pussy, Pussy.

O HEAVEN
Four wild women he through himself. Wasted crops of yellow. Once given never ever? Beaver, Beaver, sing. Therefore, fill your various shorts with these words.

STICKS OUT
Flapping wings of fleshy relatives. Seep, sleep, into that darkest. O petulant cowboy fantasy empty of all. Next we? Next we! Also, we move.

FURNITURE POLISH
Stroking pets daily sends your grandma love letters. Wanton snow nymphs gather around his bed and around me. During many many delirious delinquent journeys they shine. Excuse exchange me. Twinkle and twaddle fill certain remote and empty people. Grannies travel gently gently for their song.

BREAKFAST
On some empty tables. Thirteen is her only suitcase. Flowers are lovely dead and often. She ambles naked on. Festive, restive, Granny rested. Egg salad sunshine.

CHILDREN SUCK
Olives of youth & you swing. Breezy broken bottles of dark undulant green swim forth. And winter sits still. Frothing dragons paper imagined livingrooms.

HIGHWAY 23 ROBBERS
Roaring forward, they glanced at each simple line. Desperate and ebuilient travelers wiping without warning their deperate desires on each. Birds rocked softly on the empty and. Shining their. Open.

the moan behind the cursor

I have spilled red wine on my new wool slacks. Ah, my bloggerissimo, if life gives you spilt wine, make a 'Crotch Splotch', the new look for fall. This blogger is in absentia alas due to the she's been baking scones. With currants. And cooking up how about a fluffy omeletes. And smiling in a most bewifeingling way. John has a friend in from all the way from away London-town. The men sit in the livingroom. They drink wine and talk about. I bring the cutglass bowl full of almond-stuffed olives. And a board loaded with sesame crackers and brie.

spurious george

Jonathan Mayhew's daughter Julia has written an inspiring George acrostic. Here's mine:

Gee, uh
er
oh, er
ror-monger
gee, uh
er

My dear bloggerissimo, take five minutes to indulge your inner George and post your acrostic in the comments today!

the cry again agleam aglam leg of lamb the traispe iams sent down from the masthead

The We at PARAKEET have taken Molly Arden & Reb Livingston's good example and decided to nominate several of our deserving writers for the Pushcart Prize. We haven't decided the Who. Very difficult indeed ye! We keep reading each piece and saying shouting anew, Yes! Definite ye Yes! And the whole issue sets out before us again agleam. We've tried very hard to only publish work we find truly I-poppingly excite zing, so.

We've been reading for edition No. 2. What a delightful and rich variety of work out there! Thank you all who have sent us your writing. So difficult to select. We read many fine pieces that don't necessarily fit with the Guiding Aesthetic of the PARAKEET project and then feel blew be louse about sending those notes of no. Zachary Schomberg of Octopus recently asked on the percentage of acceptances to rejections at other journals. I'd say we only publish about 10%. I cringe. Ache range. That said, did also pen out good news. And that's a real pleased here.

Two other updates on the 'keet: 1. We're busy at word on a website! 2. PARAKEET's reading period for edition No. 2 will close December 1st. If you're thinking of sending us your work, please send lit soon! editors@parakeetmag.org

There—'Keet blogs!

lucishafer hall serves the dranks

Wonderfulest emcee and all around wonderdevil, the fantastic luciShafer Hall, who hosts the Frequency Series with Rachel Rakes (wished I'd gotten to meet Rachel, but a girl's gotta work).

daniel nester & maisie weissman

Day knell and the daisy May sings! Mucho appreciato they came out to the reading, led us in laughs and happyed with us around for eats.

christopher connelly

Finally got a picture of this very superness Christopher Connelly, Deep Image Port-drinker. And great leader to the car-parketeur!

shanna compton, pint-o-drink, friend (gary norris from colorado?), maggie nelson & heidi who?ples

How can this be the only photo I gots of Ms. Shanna Compton? And where her huge bond? And no pic of Christian Peet who so nicely. And how did I manage not to get Jennifer Knox and her huge bond? And I didn't even get a good pic of Shanna's t-shirt says: "Monkeys are good people." All night long, I'm still thinking, If presidents is monkeys, are he good people?

maureen thorson, maggie nelson & heidi what's her nameples

Here we is post-readus. Maureen made us all laugh and sigh with shared love of lovely "love flarf" and made these beautiful chapbooks that she gave away at the reading. They're wonderful! If I had my brand new Epson Scanner hooked up, I'd show ye. Maggie harrowed us had us on the edge of our seats with poems from her new book JANE written in exploration of her aunt's unsolved murder.

john mcevildoing on the way to ny

This the the magnificence who drove with me five hours there and five hours back in the one day, the man from Ireland. He's got to have one complete serving of potato every hour. These hashbrowns kept him going.

maid public

Hey howdy ye! This blogger will be reading at a fantastic island event this Saturday at 2:30 at The Four Faced Liar with Maureen Thorson and Maggie Nelson as part of The Frequency Series. This rhyme around, I'll be sure to get some photadas. Hope to see ye there!

in the nows

Who rah! Who ray! for Won Ms. Shanna Compton, Won Down Spooky! winner of the Winnow Press Open Poetry Award!


And look ye here won of my favorites by the above famed poet! Violá formal dexterity combined with an irreverent impulse, combined into won helluva a whallop of a very fine sang indeed ye:


T H E   R E M A R R I E D A G A I N   S E S T I N A .
[with apologies to LaVerne Rose Compton Cocke Young Gigliotta Cocke]
BY SHANNA COMPTON
- - - -

At first, everything was lovely.
He courted her, fresh as a rose.
As a mate he seemed competent. 
Turns out, he was actually a cock.
But what the hell — she was still young,
the house was hers, the kids were good,

and the divorce was final. Good
riddance. Single again, lovely,
and witty, she'd give her whole young
life for someone better and rose
to the challenge of dating. Cock-
shy though willing and competent,

She tried again. A competent
grad student looked pretty damn good
to her, and honestly his cock
-sure future looked bright. Lovely
years lay ahead, she knew. Hopes rose
but as quickly fell through. Her young

children seemed suddenly not so young. 
She strived for motherly competence
and the kids bounced back fine. Roses
bloomed in the backyard and on Good
Friday gelatin glowed lovely
and orange in the fridge. "Two cocks

down, one to go," she joked. Her cock
-y new beau even laughed. He's young
at heart and tells me I'm lovely,
she thought. I should be competent
by now, enough to judge a good
man when I see one. Mawmaw Rose

would be proud. The subject arose
at last and he asked her. "You cock-
sucker," she said. "Why spoil a good
thing? If I were naïve and young
it might have worked. We're incompetent.
Wouldn't it have been so lovely?"

He rose. What should he say? Lovely
knowing you? Good lord, young love was
hard, old cock even less competent.


Cock-a-doodle-ye did it! Conpubelations Shanna!

the land behind the cursor

As ye may verily well know, this here distasty little rant is making the internet rounds: and, as ye may verily well have already done hear me go on, it doth concern. Afterall ya'll, don'tchu think it's an ethical imperative to avoid gross generalizing across groups?

Take a look at the following stats:

Idaho (68%bush-30%kerry), Indiana (60%bush-39%kerry), Kansas (62%bush-36%kerry), Montana (59%bush-38%kerry) Nebraska (66%bush-32%kerry) North Dakota, (62%bush-35%kerry) South Dakota (60%bush-38%kerry), Utah (71%bush-26%kerry), Wyoming (69%bush-29%kerry)

here's the source.

Tennesse, one of the states specifically mentioned in the poem, has a breakdown of (56%bush-42%kerry). Tennessee, as you can see, leaned more toward Kerry than any of the non-southern states listed above. Same with Georgia (58-41), Louisiana (56-42), North Carolina (56-43), & South Carolina (58-40). None of the many non-southern states with an overwhelming vote for Bush, nor Utah, which has the greatest percentage of votes for Bush, was mentioned in the text. In addition, before bringing out the ol' civil-war saw and as-always dangerous stereotypes, I think one would need to look at the demographics behind the votes carefully to ascertain whether the Bush votes truly come from a Bubba contingent.

pommonblace cook

THE SILVER SWAN

The silver swan, who living had no note,
When death approached, unlocked her silent throat;
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sung her first and last, and sung no more:
"Farewell all joys; Oh death, come close mine eyes;
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise."

--Anonymous (1612)

maid public

It's a poem that can be said in twenty-five words or less. What is Ron Henry's newest Aught.

in the name of vote the future

War and fear a bug sir prys sir preys sir's prize.

from the desk of wilma's butler

The hope-chest doo-whop progress, while the war-chest
war fools of an assinine sin entity.

in the nows

this from a list-serv. (name removed to protect privacy)

> The difference between the exit polls released at
> 5PM Eastern time (Kerry winning by a lot) and the
> hideous outcome this evening is striking.
>
> One could ask: is there any difference between the
> exit poll / final result discrepancy in
> 1. Precincts that have verifiable votes
> (such as paper ballots and eVoting with a paper
> trail and
> 2. Precincts that have no way to verify
> results (using suspect tools such as Diebold
> eVoting machines).
>
> Well, guess what, a poster in a progressive blog
> has done a quick test and - lo and behold - in
> precincts where the votes are verifiable, the
> votes fall within the margin of error. But in
> precincts where you cannot verify the vote guess
> what? Bush amazingly gets a five point bump above
> the exit polls. John Kerry would win the
> Presidency handily with those 5 percentage points.
> I am hoping that Mr. Kerry's people pick up on
> this.
>
> You can read this astonishing discussion at
> http://tinyurl.com/7yry6. This story is something
> that may or may not unfold over the next few days.
> I sure hope it does. The fact is, through nearly
> 30 years of exit polling that I remember, the exit
> polls were spot on. The exit polls called it
> corrrectly in FLA in 2000 - the newspapers
> reported that over 100,000 legal 'over-votes' did
> not get counted. (Nearly 80,000 of those were for
> Gore.)
>
> Our democracy has been stripped away by the
> eVoting machines - this is where the fight begins.
>

the moan behind the cursor