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BACKWARDS & FORWARDS ( Female )

Jack was a palindrome, the same way no matter how you looked at him. Backwards and forwards completely lacking in mystery. He was way-worn with a wolfish grin, meticulous to a fault and oh so full of life. But the place I’m going to is frought with dangers that are worse when imagined. And I mean to criticize. If I wound you. The gash can be covered in bandiages and the infection will consume with neglect. He is sweet and a little meddlesome. Brazen, glib, immature and stupid. We were just babies when we married. I will remove myself from him and his stinking edicts. But I may suggest one immutable fact that appeals to both reason and heart. I don’t want to be alone. I’ll be succinct and without exaggerated sorrow. Some folks especially the perky positive ones just need a good killing. There is no room for argument and there is no other way. I’m a day from barbarism. There is no other way to remove him from the equation. It’ll complete me when he’s gone, out, away. There will be no more us, and that is the essence of the action. A cerebral bauble. It’ll give me something to play with as dusk eases into night.

U 853 ( Male )

U 853.
Explain. He said.
U 853 - May something 1945 , a day after Donitz called off attacks on civilian shipping. She sank the Blackpoint. She’s submerged a couple of miles off Block Island, she is upright on the bottom, but the hull is in pretty good shape. All hands were lost. Two blast holes. I’ve dove her she’s a pretty dive. You can look through the hatches and see the remains. But there are nights, above the wreck you swear you hear men screaming in German.
You know once?
I got a bunch of copies from the Eugenics records office at cold spring harbor.
What’s Eugenics you may ask?
The attempt to breed better humans by encouraging people of good genes to marry, screw and have lots of kis , while sterilizing the people of who they considered having bad genes, or what is the word, defective germ plasm. They made these huge charts and pedigrees. Like horses or show dogs. Try to uses so-called scientific facts to justify their deeds. Considerrd it moral. But the negative side were those who believe in sterilization and culling of those least able to preserve human fitness. Leading to segregation of the races and sterilization of the insane, the criminal and the sick. Evolutionary models, Mendel’s laws and natural selection. All contributed to eugenic theory. Medicine advocated it. Clip them and snip them, Vasectomy and Tubal ligation were the preferred methods of keeping America pure and safe from idiocy.


Well many respected scientist of their day supported Eugenics. Science is a product of culture. Science is as much faith as logic. Eugenics developed in the wake of the Civil War and mass immigration. There was mechanization of industry and the migration to the cities had major health and social consequences. Labor pools were forming unions; there were outbreaks of disease. Economic depressions. And a lot of these problems were thought by the progressivist social engineers at the time to be the product of defective genes brought into the American gene pool from those immigrants: Poverty, alcoholism, feeble mindedness, criminality and prostitution
When I am grown, I thought I will be one with all things. I will be smart and strong and fast, and callous and flawless and cruel and self-righteous. Well at least that’s the plan.

History is not for the timid.


CHEAP ( Female )

Cheap is how I would describe him. Cutting things in half until the atoms split. This can be forgivable. But nothing wrought in cuts ever bodes well. There is the Connequot river, a halcyon scene descibed by an acidic tongue. Never laconic or ostentacious I deride the twilight. And I exalt my mother the moon. With her comes respite and even in total darkness she is there. I can’t describe the inherent horrors in what she sees. This is just too much for one poor troglodyte to comprehend or raise objections. The outburst of tears in no substitute for good old fashion violence. It takes a spark to lead to conflargration. Sarcasm is what it is. The quest for contrast and contradition, hyperbole and pathos. The right metaphor to plumb the archaelogical depths of familiarity like strata.


DEAD MEN ( Male )

Please ..


TROPHIES ( Female )

Sometimes you got to love it when you are a prize to be won.
There are things to be said for competition.

A capitalist to the last.
Or.
Or what?
There is always an or.
Or a mere thing, an obstacle to some greater goal.
There is always an or I don’t know why that is. Something about being the grail I suppose. It’s almost flattering in its vile servitude.
I know now never to let Beth talk me into anything. She’s a sweet girl, a little confused but, sweet, She met this guy Charlie at the bar.
A wolf with the disturbing malady of becoming a man once in a while.
We hit it off.
He left me there, apologetic as always.
We walk the forty or so blocks home.
I didn’t care; there isn’t a man alive who can touch me. They approach like Perseus in a ruined temple of Aphrodite.
Armed to the teeth, shreds of fear falling of him like a tattered shroud.
I had a garden of statues and the solitude became too much to bear. I wonder if Aphrodite took pity on me. At the time it didn’t seem so. She ushered me back to life and gave me Pegasus, the winged stallion, beauty born from my blood. Knights don’t come on white horses or chariots of clouds. Pegasus was mine. And that animal for the longest of times was all that mattered. I would fly over the worlds looking for those I could be around; the blind are very good for that. I just won’t let them touch my face or my hair will bite them. Some people courted me, over the years, mostly for a notch on their belt. Halloween is the easiest time, anytime I can were a mask. Pegasus changed over the years, He like him go were the only ones of our kind. I let him go or a got lucky, he’d be all chipper. I’d brush and groom him, sing him songs. He’s transformed become a big white Mustang convertible. I got him in a garage I drive him once a year and see how far I can go. I can never escape until the hero comes, I drive or fly or run from dawn to dawn but when the first rays hit, I’m back at the tower. In my statue garden.
This man here, ginning madly, snuck in thought I was a sculptor like him. Wanted to tell me what an admirer of mine he was.