Tag: VIDA

january
hoofin’ whole hog to market street to leaflet to leaflet to yank all the screws in pea coat and mocs no hat thin socks no gloves struck numb ∞ nose drip hair a skein but knowing what to do and doing it loving it ∞ pick up pick up all discards no litter poe-leese cruising people taking poe-leese take you for fucking littering for fuck’s sake little white chick like you ∞ yeh yeh why not ∞ not possession not weapons but something ∞ thinking of maurice sendak that book she read over and over to her little sis what a smile… in january it’s so nice… slipping on the sliding ice.. don’t need chicken or soup or ice got leaflets and poe-leese got people taking got

february
money money who’s got the money ∞ no checks from peking ∞ what the cpusa knew not us knew ∞ us new so no heat no pool no pets ∞ but we still steal them cigarettes what we do mom we spits out mucho paper that say fuck the gover-ment fuck whites and pigs and them and why we do oh mom we have to ∞ can I ask mom for money she don’t but she send and instead of eat they crank paper for street corner white boys who rip up and scream but it’s good ∞ no more ice but still slipping on something she thinks

march
one man two man your man my man why a man why not a whoa-man ∞ just don’t ∞ she don’t know why ∞ she just don’t can’t or won’t ∞ ok ∞ won’t whoa-man  need a man yes a man yeh one man my man fights and fights and more and cry and leave and splits and splits ∞  one group two group your group my group all one group to poe-leese and neighbors call on the shouting ∞  she leave she stay she straight she gay ∞ why can’t she recall in february is it still nice slipping on the sliding… christ….

april
un-convention!! we shout and hate and split and fuck and many are some kinda badge but who care and we feel good ∞ it is a chicago spring with wind that cuts ∞ and we give each other much: crabs and runs and papers and leaflets and hope and love and adoration for blacks and viets and huey and che ∞  and whoa-men who love other whoa-men ∞  and we forth back to our places to do to do we will do and she thinks in april breezy what’s the price for spilling chicken soup with rice ∞ none ∞ she like she smile she win

may
what’ll we do for may day this year my dear my dear ∞ oh of course ∞  a party my dear but not a bureau-kratic party no no but a proley- party all over one ∞ no one allowed to be a lone one ∞ all in one even in the bathroom one??? well some do but are they wanting a one ∞ your little personal one??? ∞ they might want a won but not now ∞  let’s go talk more racist white boys on corners ∞ boys who try to beat us ∞ boys be a won we will won one like vietcong like cuba we can one ∞ oh maurice are you won?

june
hate is not love is not tolerance or being or letting or bye gones ∞ hate is i hate you hate he/she/it hate we all hate the haight ∞ say it again again and again ∞ we bury in and talk and sob and hate even us more than them ∞ the them in us got to kill the them in us

us is us but no ∞ allowed to be the real us but all this kill is killing june and spoon and moon and rice no more ∞ we hate the ice

july inventory:

one pair cut wrists

                                    ( she ain’t yer whoa- man no more man so what man?)

one pair broke ankles -ya can’t jump out the window during crit man

                                    (yah ya can owwww ya can)

one sistah bopped ∞ for cigs and never back

(snatched by pigs snatched by pigs!)

corner fights with proley whites: lost the count

                                    (lost most the fights)

five high school invasions cum rap

                                    (out ran school pigs old and fat)

three basement abortions

                                    (no xtra charge for the pain)

reams of anti amerika leaflets out and out and out

arrests arrests all are oh are

one sneak collect call home

                                    (maurice who honey are you all right?)

august
inna cell outa cell you are in or out ∞  you are collective or extra cellular ∞  you are under the ground or a coward slash pig slash traitor slash you a slash ∞ you are with or where ∞ but they are underground going going gone ∞ and you?? where with all or with no one at all ∞ no calls home no mom or dad or sis no cold soup just summer cold

september
better dead than well fed ∞ nothing worse than a female pig ∞ a sow cow pig a pig mother thing ∞ better dead than bred ∞ oh brother charlie mann-sun ∞ killer of pig mothers ∞  three finger fork salute ∞ yeh ∞ slipping for sure but no ice ∞  no where to go better be dead than a live white ∞ better be better

october
bombs (but not away oh here oh hear) ∞ (honey are you—are you—please no no)

november
how about way back when ∞  how about a bout ∞ so many bouts ∞ all about someone but who ∞ circle back remember back so long far back ∞ year or more when when we were young ∞ before someone got offed ∞ before a lot of something ∞  soup for thanksgiving oh yes oh nice ∞ red hot burbles with shards of ice

december
new decade up comes new lawyers new judges new cells new names ∞ time to go go ∞ no dancing just going ∞ thank god this year is over will there be another??  oh mother oh mother thanks for the book ∞ yes it is the right one ∞ slipping once dying twice sentenced but not at least for life

 

Penelope L. Mace has published fiction and poetry in several journals in the US and Canada. She has produced a play Mauve to be released later this year in the Albany, NY area.

Camera Oscura

by Foust

Just for a split second, this moment was important. You held the camera at waist-level and peered down into the box’s glass window. Later, you pressed the viewfinder up to your face. Squint. Hold still. Click. You had to wait a while to see what you had done. Early on, you mailed the whole camera off to Rochester. They would return it loaded with new film when they sent your photos to you. Eventually, you took the film to the drugstore, or drove up to a little kiosk in the middle of a parking lot.

When you opened up the envelope, were you surprised?

Why didn’t anyone warn you there would be an ambush when you stepped out of the privy?

Aunt Emma has really aged, hasn’t she?

That Floyd can sleep through anything.

Whose dog was that? No one remembers a dog being there.

After you passed the pictures around, after everyone saw them, where did you put them? In a drawer in the guest room. In a shoebox in the attic. On the black paper pages of a leather-bound album. Maybe you threw out the unflattering ones—like the one where the sun paved lemon rectangles across your face, or the one that made you finally throw away that horrible pair of slacks that always rode up in the back. Maybe you sent some to friends. Or pressed the good ones into a hinged desktop frame—their subjects forever forced to look at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

At any rate, this moment was important, wasn’t it? Even though no one remembers why.

 

Foust received an MFA in creative writing from Spalding University in Louisville in 2008, and a BFA in Illustration from the University of the Arts in Philadelphia in 1985. Her stories have appeared in places like Minnetonka Review, Smokelong Quarterly, Word Riot, and Wrong Tree Review.  She lives with Melvyn, her wonderful husband, and Mia, Honey, and Grace, her three spoiled dogs, in the Forest Hill Park section of Richmond, Virginia.