Just Peachy
Cubistic Body World
Carolyn M. Rodgers
one knee turned against
the other

one foot walking in one direction
the other foot headed, another

legs and thighs
rubbing each other in
the wrong way

the left hand beating always
beating the right one
and the right hand forever
trying to hold its own

the mouth, mocking
the tongue.

eyes, rolling at each other.
a body walking around with its
foot in its mouth, most of
the time.

boasting that it is so advanced,
it has eyes in the back of its head.

behold. the body of the world.
it appears that
no one will have
the distinct
odious honor of dismantling
or killing it.

it is tearing
its own self
apart.



Him
Chris Schultz
I crazy-glued this chip on my shoulder
I shaved my head to hide the balding
I am 20 with the body of a 12-year-old
   and a scalp of 70
I have a lazy right (evil) eye that lets
   me see all my insecurities
I have prayed to all the Gods
I have not gotten an answer yet, but
   my voice mail is broken
I have no saving grace
I have made decisions that will govern
   the rest of my life
I am not happy with any of them.



Angel Food (for Somalia)
Carolyn M. Rodgers
it is the beelzebub's flies on the
   children's fathomless dark eyes,
crawling around their defenseless open
     noses and mouths,
with their maddening whines
     and their busy babble buzzing.
on leftover dry mouths and dry bones,
     an army of Ezekiel's god,
in life's sacrificial valley of hunger
     and death
a marketplace of left over food and the
     flies on the food.

II.

death eats them along with ascending
   and descending angels, they float
up and down, angels armies of them, their
   arms full as they envelope and swallow
them up up, the people are nothing
     but angel food, angel food...



We’re Only Human
Carolyn M. Rodgers
Hey.
this is an absolute fact and there
are precious few of them left
around.
nobody gets out of this
maze house of crazy mirrors
alive. absolutely nobody can
sweet or fast talk the manager out of
not taking back the space that
you occupied. you can cry,
you can throw tantrums,
you can curse, you can chant or pray,
but in the end, you'll have to
get out.

What the heck. you'll only be
leaving behind a few inhumane wars,
with millions, even the alive unborn
being killed. you'll only miss
the famines, the earthquakes, the floods,
the big and little holocausts.

What do you expect?
To be able to stay around forever?
Coming in and going, going and
coming in, simply to watch
the fall down, the down fall?

We're only human, huh?
the Cainites.
What does God expect?


Untitled
   midnight panther
and i look in side my self
and see a stranger
some one i do not know
some one i know, but do not like
some one as plain and ordinary
as the mirror in the dark

and there i see a child
frail, and withered
with the innocence gone up in the pyre
of the ashen phoenix

and there i see a mystery
secrets, untold
and there i see a turtle
and wings, that will not carry me home

and there i see a disaster
that will not be touched
for it will infect others
there are no crews for clean up

and there i am left to be
the one and only me
who is so ordinary
and sad, don't you see

i want to leave, my life away
and fly to lands unknown
i want to touch and cradle my dreams
and on their wings, fly home


The Midnight Menu