Page 2
Don't look away, it's about a magazine. A poet's guide to the Southeast.
It's the art, the creation of people across the states. It is listings of Cafes and readings to help you on the road.
It's the voice of America
[The above is from a flyer that was posted around town. Some pages are scanned, others are quoted in text format. I try to keep the spirit of the format, but it's not exactly the same. Grammar and spelling are not corrected. I am not responsible for the content of this zine or any errors, nor is my net provider. --bok--]
page 1:
page 3:
____________________
The House of Alpha
3001 Oakwood Ave.
Huntsville, AL 35808
2nd Sunday of the month, 8 P.M.
The Coffee Clotch [Kaffeeklatsch --bok--]
6000 Jefferson St. [103 Jefferson N. in my phone book --bok--]
Huntsville, AL 35802 [35801 in my phone book --bok--]
The Bean Tree
461 Paul Bear Bryant Drv.
Tuscaloosa, AL 35731
Wed. 8 P.M.
The Bongo Java
2007 Bellmont BLVD.
Nashville, TN 37212
The Chamellian Cafe
1403 East Greenland Drive
Murfreesboro TN 37130
Wed. 8-10 P.M.
page 4:
53 -- A poem ona lot of different things
C'mon, there's nothing to it. It's only a dog, not sharp
like a crescent, the strength of peanut butter that's
crunchy, with melody. That would've put it in tune
and in line with a fire sale.
Almost water, we are everywhere except the sky
never has us over for long. Luckily we can count
on the zipper to do the issue, or at least to dance
around it as it comes from no where and just as
promptly, leaves without a word, with the debate
unsettled. Quite right, let the meat sleep
( thaw ) all day long but don't leave out the tongue,
the slippery one, the forked one and so on, two
at a time like I told the clerk, two at a time.
"Gee! the turkey's almost done, the eggs too,"
we all agreed and full heartedly signed our names
to the petition. You would've done the same
if you had a chance at the glossy pictures of
unconventional and hardcore tortures they were
bootlegging. That sort of thing adds up until
something in the air made the yeast freak and go
epidemic on the oranges. Maybe the last straw
was the realization that the pharmacist was in fact
the postman also, that the rolls were confused
with toasts. Then why not just stick with tradition
and put out chocolates for him, but beer for
the garbage men who wish for snow to drop the
world out of the picture.
Well, what do you think? You think it will fly?
Will you be around for the next round?
Lapis Lazuli,
October 1994.
page 5:
Cloud Busting
( for Anna Sue )
I just realized, sitting in my office,
looking up at the white ceiling
and the bright, white lights,
while I'm talking with you on the phone,
that we're "Cloudbusting."
It's the same thing that kids do
lying on top of a grassy hill,
looking up at the clouds,
trying to discern what shapes make a bus,
or a fish, or a big dog.
Usually they talk to each other,
while looking at the clouds,
about whatever is on their mind,
whether it's lunch,
or a cool bug they found,
or their grammar school soap-opera.
We're doing the same thing,
even though we aren't next to each other
on a grassy knoll,
but our conversation is intimate
and our thoughts and aspirations
are just as grand.
I can't think of a better way
to spend a few hours
than to be lying back,
looking up at fluorescent clouds,
talking to you about the weather,
or the Fall films, or the
drive to Atlanta.
© Bill Savage
page 6:
SO IT IS -- X
So it is what you asked?
I wont buy those do-it-yourself magazines that you are trying to
pawn off like I am some street hugger who needs the breath of God
in my coffee so I can live through this lifetime.
Yeah, if you want to help why don't you give me your drivers license
so I can cash my pay check. Oh I forgot its not the American dream
it is the way that you live. SO, what if the piece of it I want tastes
a little like zucchini what's the point of going on, if it tastes like
the vegetable isle at Brunos. Yeah, I asked the same question
when I was driving off from the gas pump without paying. Megan's
house; 11:20 PM written on my shoe as I entered the last falling
days of summer. Dance music, sex music and a box of tic tacs in
my hand. Its all in the way you smile. I sold my CD collection
now all I have is imaginary vinyl's spinning at 33 rivers per minute. Yeah,
I can hear the music, can you? If I wanted to sell my soul
do you think that I could steal it back after I bought groceries?
Did the counter lady see me stick that pack of Kools in my pocket?
No, I did not think so, she's an American too. So I miss the guy
that used to work graveyard shift at Texaco. Smiling Bill I used to
think. He liked poetry, and played Indigo girls until dawn.
What do you think of Religion, when you die, do you become what you
feel you are, like some beach bum blindingly staring into the sun.
Yeah, Shakespeare was a pretty cool thief. Maybe when I'm done here
I can sober up and live at the beach.
B. McDaniel S.
page 7:
The cracks of Alabama still consider blacks
to be Niger's.
An enthusiastic chick asked if I smoked grass
my karma has a leak
television hates me
television produces apathy
television is money
sex is money
violence is money
food costs money
fairy tales cost money
I have little money
Chick handed over a lit stick and then coughed
Kerouacs words pulse out of darkness like mad honey
Greed hates me
Statistics never apply for me
monuments tell us something existed
mothers milk soured a long time ago
will my poetry tell people that I'm dead?
sanity is a trick
a pack of smokes and fifteen cents change
glad that there's not a toll for thinking
Am I always in solitude?
Will Jack Dempsey die in my life time?
America, I exist
America, I am going to walk all over you
B. McDaniel S.
page 8:
MOTHER
Through shade trees,
peacocks,
The dull red buick
enters winters park,
Florida, 1978
drive-ins in my best blue pajamas
duck ponds, pneumonia,
I was 8 years old.
Now I realize my memories
honor mother,
and so
faithfully,
I replicate potato salad.
J. Moore
page 9:
Gestation
Unborn fetus within the
uterus of female. Uterus
is organ in female for
containing and nourishing
fetus.
Unborn advet within the
mind of female. Mind is
organ in female for
containing and nourishing
advet.
Unborn father within the
darkness and confusion of
male. Confusion is organ in
male for containing and
nourishing father.
M. Sic
page 10:
GLYNN
Glynn, from Albertville
was at the fag bar.
I, danced near him.
He, unfastened his belt,
lowered that zipper,
and danced. Thrusting
the blue banded jockey
( white stretched tight
across his abdomen )
out. I, uninterested,
danced closer.
J. Moore
Page 11: Poem 4/4/94 by Jeff Moore
page 12:
55 -- A poem on a store
In my latest store everything seems a far cry; the season's
fashion, the flowers in the fridge, the power tools, the
cosmetics, everything. At the time when our heads seemed
ripe, the alarm rang, I folded away my grey days and took
out a new policy. I decided I wasn't going to start up the
clouds again. Needless to say, I expected the old business
to start wasting away by itself, the customers, no longer
finding what they want, to take to the competition, and the
staff, left without job security, to become quite useless,
forgetting even on what aisles the most basic items are.
It's been months since, and I am still rather clueless as to
what to do about the situation, whether it's just a marketing
and moral problem, or if I need better goods, or just different
ones and then, where'd I find them. But I'm determined to
hang in there for the dearer life to stick it out. I hope I'm up
to the job; something's bound to come up. In fact, tomorrow
I plan on going to the factory where they roll out the sun,
look around there a bit, and see if I can't find myself the
laughing common to us all. I have a feeling this one's going
to be it. I think it'll be a kind of dancing.
Lapis Lazuli,
November 1994.
[Pages 13-15 are covered with blank ruled lines, as if the reader is supposed to write the conclusion. --bok--]
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