December 29, 2014 – January 4, 2015: Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois and Richard Lynch

Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois and Richard Lynch

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Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois
grabmitch@hotmail.com

Bio (auto)

Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois has had over six hundred of his poems and fictions appear in literary magazines in the U.S. and abroad, including POETRY SUPER HIGHWAY. He has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize for work published in 2012, 2013, and 2014. His novel, Two-Headed Dog, based on his work as a clinical psychologist in a state hospital, is available for Kindle and Nook, or as a print edition. He lives in Denver.

The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Delvinal

I want you to know that
Delvinal Sodium
in therapeutic doses
is a safe sedative and hypnotic
with a moderate duration of action

That’s all I’ll say
other than you’ll suffer
no pathologic tissue changes

I won’t give you a list
of disclaimers
and warnings about side effects

That’s just the way life works
You get something
you give something else up
This is 1940
Everyone knows that

So take it
or don’t take it
It’s all the same to me


Amber Alert

I was arranging a bachelor party
for my brother
something booze-driven and raunchy
that he would remember
long after he’d settled
into boring married life

Setting it up
I met a stripper
named Amber Alert
That was her professional name
Her real name was something ridiculously Jewish

We ended up having a kid
I converted to Judaism
When my parents died in a car crash
I needed it

My brother still remembers his bachelor party
but it’s just as well that he was too drunk
to realize
that the woman who became my wife
was stripping that night
under the stage name
Amber Alert


Desiderata (Abridged)

There’s a gentle rain falling from your nose
that waters the daffodils
and wets the sidewalks

You’re okay just as you are
a sappy sentiment
that almost no one
believes

 


Richard Lynch
richard@thebookdoc.com

Bio (auto)

Richard Lynch (Platja de Gandia, Spain) had beaten a drum as a boy before karma reclaimed the episodes, and beat him back. He wasn’t impressed, swallowed three toads, saying "oh, crap" only after the third, when he realized it was frogs he’d wanted, and his throat swelled him to the hospital. Some people count almonds to be sure there are enough in the bag…Richard only almonds when it counts. In recent years he has let his camera help him discover grotesque things, foods that lurk in the ice tables of fish mongers when he fails at fishing, and the sight of a woman so incredibly perfect that he was once consumed by the flames of a group of young boys she passed when they spontaneously combusted. Having risen from those ashes as well, he found people jealous of his nimbus, which he named Bob and taught various card tricks, and lives with his medusa, looking at her only through mirrors. When Bob turned to Three Card Monty, all bets were off, and so was the nimbus, creating a paradox so complex, Schrodinger’s cat begged for mercy loudly enough that you could hear it behind the door, and Bob (sometimes known as Three Card) was forced into slave labor at a repair shop called Quantum Mechanics where cars were fixed by putting them in a box and thinking. There are times when Richard’s antics become uncles. He hopes to have the opportunity to explain his life the right way, when it is over, again.

The following work is Copyright © 2014, and owned by Richard Lynch and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Woman Who Would Only Sing

Bats flipped
in patterns
over the playa,
sweeping dust
from the hair
of a woman
who sat
on a bench
singing

She sang
to her friend about
the toast made
this morning
which was just as she liked it
though the jam was disappointing.
Her improvised tune
in kind, words
trailing.

Her leashed chihuahua
barked at me,
as I passed
slowly by —
the singing womans
toes crammed
into her sandals
to stack like
packaged hotdogs

She sang to the dog
to be calm,
and it was.

I saw her again
in the food store
where she sang to her friend
about prunes
comparing them
to her husband
who sometimes
helped with things.
As her friend laughed
she sang about
the wheels on her cart
and the hight
of the basket
which defined tragedy
by making her bend
to put things in,
and take them out.

She sang on the train
about graffiti
and at the Tobacco store
about her cigarettes
and how they would kill her.

I imagined her singing
in the kitchen
to her pots and pans
styling verse to tell each
what they were doing wrong.

On the playa
her song
came through my open window
happy for the
beautiful sunset,
but missing her bicycle
that she liked to ride
as the sun went down

In the post office
she sang an address
to the clerk,
after crooning
an appology
that her fingers
didn’t work well,
nearly yodeling
–Alemania
where the package
would find her daughter.
The woman
handed her purse
to the clerk
in a song
about how change was
so small and uncooperative.
And she continued
the song
to a conclusion of "thanks"
taking back her purse.

The man next to me
in line
saw me smile.
I asked him
"Does she always sing?"
he shrugged and said
"eh…she likes to sing…"