January 6-12, 2003: Pearl Pirie and Michael Muhammad Knight

week of January 6-12, 2003

Pearl Pirie and Michael Muhammad Knight

click here for submission guidelines

Pearl Pirie

Bio (auto)

Pearl Pirie lives with another biped and 2 cats in Canada`s countryside near Kemptville, Ontario Her day job is in newcomer settlement, teaching ESL She has been writing poetry for over 20 years She recently had the pleasure of attending the Geraldine R Dodge Poetry Festival, along with 17,000 others More of her poetry can be found at www.PageHalfFull.com

The following work is Copyright © 2003, and owned by Pearl Pirie and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.


Should I try to take them back and catch them?
It was supposed to be relaxing us sitting watching We
Renew elastic to the gasoline-bowed thinning
hope before dissolution It’s hard to let them all go,
to float, to pop, to be beautiful and just be pleased by them,
not watch for what winds they are revealing, forecasts foretold Bubbles blown is an exercise in remitting control Even knowing it,
I protect their infancy, hold off blowing as a breeze gusts Still I stand and try to bend the wind with my shape, make pockets
to guard the bubbles Position myself to make them fly over the house,
higher than trees, higher than me, seen, like fragile sterile prodigies.


two cotton wrapped stones
jostling, no sulphur sparks spoke,
but the cloth wears fast.


Last week, I nearly walked in on her and her mirror,
its collar showing hastily rubbed away kisses As unsteadily as a spring river she gushes forward
then freezes between the frozen bed beneath and snow kissed air
In recluse, does my little girl parade
in the ‘sissy itchy’ baby dolls her aunt gave
and play with lipstick bought and hid
with cigarettes and pictures of heartthrobs?

During a sudden cold snap, morning traffic reports,
radio news and any attempt at discussing, or hearing,
each others views is caught in a white out of ’tis not!’
‘Is too’ and ‘Not’, between her and her brother
Nightly, she fusses her hair into braids
(tighter than she would have ever let me do)
and at that moment she storms off to change them,
declaring them to be giving her a headache,
tossing one last ‘It IS you know’ over her shoulder
Every morning the tightly bound is unwound,
cascading spring waterfalls over shoulders
With her return, this morning’s sun fawns, helpless in some
invisible snarl in her honeyed hair, and kneels, snared
there among the waves that I hope the boys can’t feel,
yet Beneath her farmhand reach
for the hottest waffle, and a quickly made gone
syrup pond, nipples lift too small pyjamas
to midriff, bared jealousy sharpens
my command to “put on a robe”, [in front of my
husband] “at breakfast ” She laughs “why”
and looks at me as if I’m the one who’s changing I repeat and she spins on her heel
and storms a little snowy twister to get
more clothes She does not understand: the self
she knows is held fast in a woman now Yet
neither did I at her time of life; my breasts and hips
sprouting around a doll and popgun, all
of us hostages of change
We’ll get her new winter pyjamas tomorrow.

Michael Muhammad Knight

Bio (auto)

Michael Muhammad Knight’s first novel, Where Mullahs Fear to Tread, has been disapproved for distribution in Singapore by that country’s religious authorities His second novel, The Furious Cock, circulates from the trunk of his car and locally-owned book/record stores in Buffalo, New York His work has appeared in literary journals and zines He has also drawn over one hundred album covers.

The following work is Copyright © 2002, and owned by Michael Muhammad Knight and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

Turkey Bacon

My friend Siddique
had a son Siddique
so we called the dad
Big Siddique
and the son
Little Siddique
One day
Little Siddique
asked Big Siddique
if Muslims
could eat turkey bacon
“Why would I want
an imitation
of that which is
Big Siddique replied
One day
we were eating ice cream
and the Qari
asked Little Siddique
if it was Muslim ice cream
“How can ice cream have a religion?”
Little Siddique replied

Allah de Sade

Ya Allah,
with Your permission
I will fall in love
with a beautiful kufr girl Ya Allah,
with Your knowledge
I will stick it
in her warm hole Ya Allah,
please do not hang stones
from my balls
in Jehennam.

Subscribe to our weekly Newsletter: