November 6-12, 2000: Kathleen Savino and Andy Baron


 

week of November 6-12, 2000

Kathleen Savino and Andy Baron

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Kathleen Savino
MuZeOFsappho@aol.com

Bio (auto)

.Is a poet stuck in the heart of suburban new jersey she attempts to distract herself from this fact by listening to as much non-radio music as possible, reading avant-garde poetry, & going to N.Y as much as possible for a student who tutors for a living & has a limited income She has been published in The Columbia Poetry Review, Stirring: A Literary Collection, Four Walls, and has work forthcoming in Moria She is currently assisting author/poet/editor extraordinare John High in editing his selected poems for Talisman House She is also working on the final edit of her own manuscript which she hopes to publish in the near future.

The following work is Copyright © 2000, and owned by Kathleen Savino and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

cunt

pinker furls dilated,
seedless unsewn
as a mouth.

salt & other snails

her spine’s too wet for that, and I am a mollusk, really Looking like a tongue
and all, having no throat or pearl Pressing my thighs to a whole jelly jar
the zygote strung, licked as a
stamp It’s not mine, and it has hair.

narwhal

unicorns, slugged with bodies,

speckled even
Heat on the belly is it foolish?

to touch the spiral at my mouth,
as a buttonholed ophelia

(her dress spines open,

not a glitter )

insignia

took its clay a pawing
that croaks salt
scars passed in prayer

& all my torso, given

as printless meat,

garnet skins seeding
nocturnal.

eggshells

their paper immolates
my thigh, always
I suck the break of membranes

put a tongue to meditation,
quiet

as an animal
or tulip

measures earth.

anti-sonnet #1
Bring out the din no light in these rest rooms

they’re serving breakfast

(i.e if the toilet seat’s cleaner
than your kitchen table
lets fuck there instead )

isn’t boneless meat an oxymoron?
You’re eating veal I fed milk to
by watching her eyes,

their white I’m chewing pistachios
clicking open mouths-
their skin like tissue paper
about a naked,
single hip.


Andy Baron
nklunch@hotmail.com

Bio (auto)

My name is Andy Baron and I am 23 years old I live in Houston, Texas I live at home With my dad I am a loser Currently I work as a manager at a small art house We show mainly independent and foreign films I attend the University of Houston Sometimes I didn’t today My alarm is very soft I study creative writing I am silly.

The following work is Copyright © 2000, and owned by Andy Baron and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

Fín Amor
(poem written during a lecture on Arthurian Romances)

My lover wants to relax her tits
on my British Literature notes and
I have to tell her that Chrétien does not
approve of “amor courtios” in the
presence of a middle-aged king in crisis
so desperate he named his cock,
“Excalibur “

Mannequin Flesh

I think I might be on the verge of love
because I smiled at Mannequin Flesh today I never do that!
She had acne and eyes screaming in
such a kaleidoscope of blue-
only she and Picasso could have pulled it off.

Cleavage

Her breasts dangle within a pine green blouse
like so many ornaments hanging on so many
christmas trees
so much so that I am certain if you were to
tilt her over and reveal her soul-
it would be infested with wrapped boxes,
origami angels, and the warmth of the son of
God.