April 27-May 3, 1998: Christopher Stolle and Denise Noe

Week of April 27, 1998-May 3, 1998

Christopher Stolle and Denise Noe

Christopher Stolle

230 S.W 4th St Richmond, IN 47374


Christopher Stolle is completing his final days of college before receiving his Bachelor of Arts in Journalism with a concentration in Education from Indiana University He has published his work in many fine magazines, including: Domino, The Ebbing Tide, Interbang, Mind Purge, Recursive Angel, Talus and Scree and Wicked, among others Instead of venturing into the real world, he’s planning on becoming a freelance writer, just to see if he has what it takes Also, he has just published his first chapbook-it’s one long poem Contact him if you’d like a copy.

The following work is Copyright © 1998, and owned by Christopher Stolle and may not be distributed or reprinted in any manner whatver without written permission from the author.

Alphapoetic Reality

solemn language curls up at my feet:
its legs, arms and torso fold into curves-
you cannot make love to feelings
captured within consonants and vowels
L, O, V and E tried to hold me to their faces:
they are deaf and blind to my sounds and expressions-
this silence allows me to hear one strong heartbeat,
while another sound-not my own-vibrates my skin
i awaken in the middle of the night to find pen and paper:
need to create phrases that will smile at my anguish-
with friends like words, despite their human restraints,
it doesn’t make sense to ask for anything as perceptive.

L.O.V.E (Love Obviously Vacates Ecstasy)

Your body succumbs to my poetry:

Let it caress your naive face;
to shine your nose with verbs,
to cleanse your eyes with nouns
and to massage your lips with adjectives
Let it hold your hands with punctuation;
to lick your fingers with parentheses,
to file your nails with backslashes
and to find fortune in your palms with dashes
Let it dance with your legs;
to towel-dry with an informal love song,
to apply perfume with an eclectic country tune
and to paint your toenails with an unknown ballad
Let it tickle your erogenous trenches with emotions;
to taste your sensitivity with bravery,
to cuddle your ribs’ candy with innocence
and to linger in your hormones with tears
But in the morning, when the poet leaves,
you will find words clogging your shower drains.

Moist Darkness

shared from generation one to infinity,
an ordinary smile shackled to his lips
.and footsteps in his eyes
.more earth to unearth
.more dirt to clean
.with his hope for soapy dreams

virgin color raped from his face
leaving dignity under his fingernails
.and shame in his voice
.more direction to direct
.more heels to wound
.with his penchant for naive trails

timid fascination with emoting female onlookers
as he photographs bleeding diamonds for magazines
.and loneliness in his heart
.more lies to lay down with
.more disappointment to savor
.with his taste for shadow kisses

Lifeline Fragments

i’m fortunate i’ve been
close to death another
turn, another choice no god one too
many paths leaving
hope in a dead voice
faith in eyes listening
to the forces this
passion, that disgrace no luck drowning the
word-talent sticking
melodrama on my face
i’m rewound nothing
to play me technology
for help, technology for hate no tears everyone
wants a number it’s all
merely society’s bait
childhood in hands pretending
to see friends her
half-smile, his low talk no crossroads humming tunes
in my feet it’s only
fear that warms our walk
i’m uncertain i’m thinking
there’s an answer systematic
dream, fool-proof goal no enemies prosperity
resides in your motion find
one more piece to become whole.

Temporary Plot

it’s motionless this passing
phase sleeps decision want
to circumsize my integrity peeling back love leaving
emotions on the floor one
more kiss for credibility
childhood forces black
days and dead nights everyone
sees them pointing a finger wake up nothing breaks
like a dream and no one
knows you when you linger
borrowing idols turning to
sounds for answers and there’s
only one more sacrifice to try thoughts harvest hate sanity
bleeds into the Holy Grail but i
am not prepared to fight and die.

Denise Noe


Denise Noe lives in Atlanta, GA and has been published in “The Humanist,” “Webdreamers,” “Wicked,” “The Pink Chameleon,” and many other places An essay by her is featured in “Here and Now: Current Readings for Writers “

The following work is Copyright © 1998, and owned by Denise Noe and may not be distributed or reprinted in any manner whatsover without written permission from the author.

A Cycle Discontinued

Mom said, “I guess that’s
the way I told you
because that’s the way
my Mother always told me “

Dad said, “Don’t you want
to continue yourself?”

I lay on a hospital cot, in pain,
24 years old and a virgin,
happy despite the pain,
knowing that I would not
be anyone’s Mom
telling a daughter
what my Mother told me My tubal ligation meant
that a cycle of teaching
hatred and self-rejection
had been


a ghost’s


sewn shut
by gold


was conceived
in your eyes,
by your love,
by your desires Baby, held close,

Then: you made
few demands
Baby was
by your
lack of love,
starved on
your indifference,
was murdered
and buried
by your divorce.

The Vampire Awakens

The vampire awakens
and pushes back the
coffin’s lid, 
not thinking
about the unfairness
of his–or her–
accursed destiny,
or the morality
of harming
innocent living mortals,
no, not even sadistically
reveling in the
to be inflicted
For the vampire’s thirst
is so great, 
it blocks out

Watching “Compulsion” Again

I’ve seen Compulsion before,
a lot before,
but I watch it again–
I’ll always watch it again Bradford Dillman is my type
of man, slender and compact,
and so is Dean Stockwell (Or at least they were
when they made
Compulsion but that
was a long time ago )
Because it was made back then
the men don’t kiss and
don’t say
actually say
“come out” and say
what everyone knows:
that the guys they play are gay;
but they suggest and suggest
and suggest
and suggest
and I’ve got to admit
the thought of those two
titillates me So I watch the actors
who play Steiner and Strauss,
(who everyone knows
are really the murderers
Leopold and Loeb)
but I turn the channel
when it gets to the trial
because this part
is mostly Orson Welles
and he’s fat.

Redeeming Social Value

saw an old flick
.quite a clinker
redeeming social value
’cause Raquel Welch
.shows a lotta cleavage
& Michael York
.loses his shirt

The Last Communist Party

At the last Communist Party,
feigning they aren’t blue, 
the dedicated Marxists say
between cheese and wine
“it’ll work out fine ”
Though they just withdrew
their support of the USSR;
after all, it is no more It looks like this capitalist phase
will last a little longer
than they had expected
Exploitive forces have their ways;
they mustered a last great hoorah
before the inevitable
dictatorship of the proletariat So at the last Communist Party
the Marxist faithful earnestly debate
where to place their loyalty–
Cuba? Albania? North Korea?
all three countries are so great Their faith is so stubbornly strong
that they refuse to even know, 
as they gather their coats to go, 
that they have attended
the last Communist Party.

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