SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT THE NEXT
TIME YOU SHOP AT SEARS
2 disgruntled
whorehouse patrons
and this pimp--
they caved his
skull in last night
down on Church
street
severed 3 of
his fingers
busted his knee-caps
ribs, dislocated his
shoulder
In the morning
paper they
said the victim was
a "prostitution
supervisor"
prostitution
supervisor?
I guess he was the
prostitution
customer service
rep as well.
THE MIDGET POEM
One day,
you know I saw a midget being
ridden around in a shopping
cart by a tall man with
greasy hair.
And I remember it had rained
the night before and every
time the shopping cart
hit a puddle the midget
squealed with delight.
Of course, there is nothing
profound about this event
just that I am the type
of person who sees
midgets in shopping carts
I am not entirely pleased
by this.
PROGRESS
more efficient methods
of doomsday killing
24-hour convenience
store food marts
w/ drive
thru pharmacies
and the microwaved
$1.99 lunch special
faster, better looking
cars
faster, better looking
women
pound of flesh %
APR usury-
your soul on a
microchip
smoother
and
smoother lines
of bullshit.
THE LADY AND THE TIGER
"She knows she was wrong..."
- Michael Jurich, owner, Prairie Wind Wildlife Refuge
What kind of
woman sticks
her arm in a
tiger's cage?
How surprised
she must've been
when he bit it off.
That first tentative
lick, then those
powerful jaws
clamping down feeling
sinewy muscle and
flesh separate from
bone - that sudden
spurt of blood.
And I bet before the
tiger carried off his
snack, he gave her
that one last look
(as if he could really
give a fuck).
Can't really blame him-
maybe he was hungry or
simply bored, but, most
likely, it was just his way
of saying,
"How do you like me
now you sorry, dumb
bitch?"
THE ASSASSIN
His name was Marcus
six-feet-four over four-
hundred pounds of
lumbering bulk --
another assassin hired,
I'm sure, to replace me.
Every year it happened- they'd
find someone they thought was
more dependable, who they
could get for less money
instead of giving me that raise.
Marcus showed-up early, did
the work of three men --
at least for the first two weeks.
After that, nothing could move that mountain
as he'd sit unshaven blood-shot eyes
all day reading magazines,
testing the resolve
of the office furniture.
He's gone now.
John C. Erianne's poetry has been published in many small press journals
over the last fifteen years, including Black Spring Review, POET, Taproot Literary Review,
Asylum, Angelflesh, Skylark, The Plastic Tower among many others. His work
has been published online in Gravity, Thunder Sandwich, Mind Fire, Gray Matter Tapestry, Disquieting Muses, Realpoetik and SpokenWar, etc. He is the publisher of Asterius Press which produces the print journals, Devil
Blossoms, and tripwire as well as the online zines, The Doomed City, Gnome,
New World Poetry and The 13th Warrior Review. His third collection, The
View from Down Here will be published in the Summer of 2000.
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