December 13-19, 2004: Christopher Mulrooney and Haley Stokes

week of December 13-19, 2004



Christopher Mulrooney and Haley Stokes


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Christopher Mulrooney
lospoesy@earthlink.net

Bio (auto)

Christopher Mulrooney (Los Angeles, California) has had poems and translations appear in TIF, Underzone, Artvilla, The Pacific Review, Another Chicago Magazine, Sleeping Fish, Brutal Imagination, etc
He is the author of “Notebook and Sheaves“.

The following work is Copyright © 2004, and owned by Christopher Mulrooney and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

another way to look at it

if you want to say champagne
in one of those fluted little off-brands

if you want to say Mrs Dithers
in a track suit

if you want to say buying time
on the local cable company channel

if you want to say the Tenderloin
is strictly not served here

if you want to say why not serve a lie
and call it government supply

if you want to say the recourse
is simply not in evidence

if you want to say well it did not
matter anyway

if you want to say it did not
amount to anything less than this

if you want to say nowhere was
a town at all for comparison

then you can say it’s a city

the articulations

the hound dogs gather in the moonlight
the grassy knolls echoing with their pooch howls
catches their paws in dew dab

the portraitist stands back
with a smock and pointed mustache
and a wide pouffe hat


parsec

the milky white of her ceiling
faces the char

the speeding vehicles
mandrel-bar the streets

outside it’s her
and only her


Haley Stokes
stokesh@ulv.edu

Bio

Haley Stokes is finishing her BA in English at the University of La Verne and lives with her husband in Upland, California

The following work is Copyright © 2004, and owned by Haley Stokes and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Literature

Literature is the hot pink sweater hanging in the closet
It lifts its arms and waves
Carries itself out of the closet and settles on the bed
Pink reflects black ink
And smells like white
The strategic sweater smoothes its wrinkles
Preparing to meet Terry Wolverton for tea
It will wrap itself snugly around her body
Literature is thigh-high leather boots
Pepper pulls them past her calves
Wonders where the leather came from
Maybe melodramatic cows of Olympia
She invites one to live in her bedroom
Dresses it in garters and stiletto heels
Because tall cows produce strong leather
They are as austere as dandelions
“It’s part of being able to name something”
It’s about the pink sweater gathering moths.


Time is the Old Woman

Time is the old woman driving a Cadillac
She pokes along because the buffet is all-you-can-eat
The Chuck-A-Rama serves lunch from eleven to four
The billboards sell weight-loss and chocolate
The buffet is not all-you-can-eat
Rita eats at the Golden Corral every day
Roast beef smells like neon lights
Macaroni is a grisly orange
Green beans sound rancid
She slurps soup through broken teeth
“I can’t help until you fill out this form.”
The eternal freeway of impatience
Stretches as straight as a sidewinder snake She drives sideways to watch the hills
She will only see the tombstone-gray concrete
Of the canary yellow city
The blocks have been studiously randomized
The sky scrapers sing to the airplanes
As the old lady meanders
Chewing on corn

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