Blurburger Zine no.3
Someone asked if I did all the art and poems and things in the Blurburger Zines. Yes, you lovely chipmunk, it's all original unless I state in the otherwise.
Poem: Aloft
I'm aloft in the tree.
You circle me,
a drooling leopard
in leopardskin leggings.
Your words are growls and creaks
barks and sneers.
Aloft in my tree
I'm trying not to cry,
but then the sky opens like a curse
and I'm drenched
in a cold relationship downpour.
My arms hug the trunk
and everything is wet,
everything is wrong.
Are you listening? you yell.
I shiver
and shake my head.
No.
Arlo Park's 'Eugene' as a text chat
From a scene printed on a 1950's apron
It's Paris, after the war. Everything is centered on a young woman and her dog. She has an impossibly thin waist, and is dressed in a sleeveless yellow dress, a saucer shaped hat, red shoes and a matching red handbag. Very chic. The day is bright - everything casts a hard shadow. Scattered pigeons eat crumbs from the ground, an artist in green pants paints the trees in the square, and in the background small beetle-like cars pass by the columned pre-war architecture.
A young man rushes to catch up to the woman. It seems he has just bought a bunch of flowers from the flower stall behind him. Does he know her? She seems oblivious to him. Perhaps he had become enraptured with her beauty and scent as she passed by, and had bought the flowers on impulse? Her grey poodle wants to go and play with the other small dogs - a surprised looking poodle and a barking terrier, that roam unfettered in the square. The dog is standing on its back legs as it pulls at the leash, it twists the woman into a ballerina pose.
Near the artist are two bird cages. In the cage on a small wrought iron table is a yellow canary, its neck extended as it sings. On the ground is another cage, shaped like a chinese house. The bird inside this cage seems to be a toucan. It looks very sad, trapped.
Away from the scene, off to one side, for some reason not casting a shadow, stands a lone, yellow cane chair.
Ever had a new person join your friend group and they're instantly more popular than you?
Poem: Slayed and Played
Then she appeared
she slid into the room - into us
sleekhanded loose and quick.
A snakehipped hippy girl skin-size zero
with an edge to fringe smile and
snipped-out stalker legs leather hewn thighwhite tight.
All bunny tatts and blue hair fists
all killing spree and milked-up grind.
I hated to love her
but licklipped at glimpses
washed-away in a vomit of adoration.
I will be her I thought
a pretty wipingout like her
make a splash like her
be a dangerdash smash like her.
But she knew - she knew
she cooed she fanged.
Only SHE could she.
Her ice-blazed eyes blackdotted
hell-bent and daggered.
In a cute-hot blur she slashed and gashed
swung her sword of sneer
her words warping my words
her laugh slice-icing my laugh
eliminating my stand in a
waste whacking butcherknife wipeout.
I was taken down
rubbed out
erased.
Slayed and played.
More small things made of wishes
Dew covered spider webs, the smell of pizza through the box, snails, soft hats, arched eyebrows, kitten bellies, 5am silence, black lipstick, word histories, emoticons, the sound of waves, candlelight, moonlight, unshed tears.
