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Week of May 31 - June 6, 1999


Pasquale Capocasa and Amanda Marie Musto


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Death of a Mauve Bat! | Sinzibuckwud! | We Put Things In Our Mouths | A Man With No Teeth Serves Us Breakfast
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I'm a Jew, Are You
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Pasquale Capocasa
pcapocasa@blackpoint.ch

http://niederngasse.dragonfire.net/

Bio(auto)

Pasquale Capocasa is a former, fairly unsuccessful American potter now living and writing in Switzerland. He is the editor of a small print poetry journal as well as its counterpart online. His work has appeared in various literary magazines including, The Poet's Page, Poetry Motel, Breakfast All Day, Studio Potter, and California Quarterly.


The following work is Copyright © 1999, and owned by
Pasquale Capocasa and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.


The Original Variety Show

Double trouble it is;
us and them, me and you,
always two, babbling
like fission-cloned copies
of bickering circus clowns.

There is no two as we both claim.
There is no perpetually singing duo.
There is only what we are?
layers of grit, stone, and stars,
one on one, on one, on one.


Double Exposure

She rose from the bench
and half turned toward the man
in the bright blue track suit.
She had seen him before.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The man did not answer...

With a flutter, he tucked
himself neatly between
her and the bench,
grabbed the shoulders
of her summer dress,
and pulled sharply downward.

Out she came, her gasp
kick-starting her essence
and she glowed quietly
for a moment,
the twilight recoiling
in astonishment.

"He has exposed me,"
was her only thought,
which seemed excessive
in the diminishing light;
unseen, a hint of blue softly
folded into the rustling leaves.


I am Not To Blame

believe me?
my aggressive,
hostile behavior
is directly linked
to the excessive
consumption of junk food,

and to the watching
of tv violence for
unreasonable
lengths of time.

Yes, I know?
you say
it could be my fault,
but ask
my social worker.
She'll tell you.
This simply isn't
the real me.

My environment is
convoluted; its own
byzantine behavior molding
Machiavellian doubles.

So you see,
I am not to blame.


I've Had My Fill, Thanks!

All my life I've drank my fill,
my greed grinning behind my back.

Just once I want to say:
enough pleasure,
enough pain,
enough greed,
enough shame.

I want to say just once:
no more orgasms, please;
enough smoke, thank you.

Just once I want to shout:
Hey man, thanks, but I'm full.

...and see who's behind this mask.


Amanda Marie Musto
AMusto1172@aol.com

Bio(auto)

Amanda Marie Musto lives in Winter Springs Florida. She is eleven years old. Possibly twelve.


The following work is Copyright © 1999, and owned by Amanda Marie Musto and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.


Rich

I am not rich with gold, silver, or bronze,
I do not live in an ancient castle,
I am not royalty.
I am not rich with money,
Coins or cash,
I do not own a mansion or a mall,
Though that would be nice.
But money does not matter to me,
I am still rich, rich with love.
My heart bank is full,
But I will withdrawal from it,
and give out my love to the ones who need it
The most.