December 10-16, 2007: Jennifer Ethington and Kristine Ong Muslim

week of December 10-16, 2007

Jennifer Ethington and Kristine Ong Muslim

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Jennifer Ethington
greeneyedelf@juno.com

Bio (auto)

I am 37 years old and currently reside in Lawrenceville, NJ I’ve been writing all my life in order to prevent the various trains of thought from crashing into each other in my head; you might call it a form of active meditation I’ve only recently gotten up the nerve to share my work and submit it for publishing Besides poetry I’ve also recently begun trying my hand (so to speak) at erotic fiction and I am seeking out an agent for a screenplay that I finished last year I am also an avid photographer.

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Jennifer Ethington and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Cerna

To leave the bottle uncapped
would have been rude
and leaving blood on the wall was inconsiderate enough Even an immigrant with a rap sheet
should make a good impression on his hosts Poverocito It’s not like he planned it
The day started normal,
Nothing went south til nine-thirty
It was almost Christmas
And going back inside
Wasn’t in his plans
The deputy took two to the stomach
For doing his job,
what he’d been trained to do
for a year now he’d done it
With no probs to report,
nary an incident to tell the wife about
But today the foreigner was done A Guatemalan can get lost in the big empire
And prison aint pretty right before Christmas
And the world is less frightening when you carry a .45
And the deputy had shit timing
And didn’t run fast enough
Took two to the stomach
And the immigrant was fucked
But nobody shook him
He had a chance to nail them in the car
Could’ve fucking gone out with a bang
Ha
Œcos nobody shook him
but that would be rude The detective was nice
It was spring water, you know
Not that paper cup bullshit
But nobody shook Cerna
And it was almost Christmas Still, only a bad mutha would shoot his interrogator
But he was tired,
and he knew he was fucked
and his head hurt pretty bad
and now he’d shot a cop
and nobody shook him
so at ten forty-seven
the shit hit the fan
and the dura mater hit the wall
and as the guatemalan’s cranium tipped to the left
and the guttural gurgling
said what he couldn’t
the cap sat on that goddamn water bottle,
even though he dropped it
(‘Cos you can’t grip when your brains are blown out
and blood is pouring from your ear) Now everyone at home can be proud because he’s famous He’s in the “what not to do” videos He’s become training material
And a favorite email attachment
With a caption like
“Getta Loada This “


Kristine Ong Muslim
blackroom8@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

More than 500 of Kristine Ong Muslim’s poems and stories have appeared or are forthcoming in over 200 publications worldwide Her poetry has appeared in Boxcar Poetry Review, Chimera Magazine, GlassFire Magazine, GUD Magazine, 42opus, Radiant Turnstile, The Pedestal Magazine, Turnrow, and Void Magazine She lives in Cebu City, Philippines

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Kristine Ong Muslim and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Sudden Elsewhere

Assume you have
nothing to lose

and cannot dwell in
a favorite memory.

See the white swans
on the cheap wallpaper.

Not once have they
unruffled their feathers.

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