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week of January 31 - February 6, 2000

Sarah Goodwin and Frank Matagrano

 

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Death of a Mauve Bat! | Sinzibuckwud! | We Put Things In Our Mouths | A Man With No Teeth Serves Us Breakfast
I'd Like to Bake Your Good | Stolen Mummies| Brendan Constantine is My Kind of Town | Up Liberty's Skirt | Feeding Holy Cats | Mowing Fargo
I'm a Jew, Are You
| Lizard King of the Laundromat
| I Am My Own Orange County | Paris: It's The Cheese | Poetry Super Highway
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Sarah Goodwin
SGood34798@aol.com

http://www.suite101.com/myhome.cfm/sarahscribbles

Bio (auto)

Sarah Goodwin is a free-lance writer and week-end bad-girl bartender living in New York City. She's been published in Fuel Magazine and Camelia: A Literary Biannual, as well as on-line with Next Press Inc. Her poetry has been made a film by Vernice Liquida, Inc and Cinema Odyssey in New York, and turned into performance art in California. She was a featured poet at the New York City Film Festival in 1998.

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


Glamour

fame and infamy being closely knit
I commit small rebellions:
I drink skim milk from
the carton, or tequila

in a public bathroom I found
a hundred dollars worth
of cocaine, and wasn't sure
it was manna

I emerged with blackened eyes
after three days and nights I walk
among you but make no mistake:
I am not like you


Subway

Subway curdles
down chutes
and ladders
are all there are
to rescue me
from Johnny's hot torso.
I just wanted to get fucked
gears grinding vibrating poles
filling my hands

If only I could let go
when he comes
for me in the dark
do more than stare
like an open hole
deep mouth, dirty palm on denim
People replace people in the opening
of a door
everything heartbeat and supernova
has that rhythm


Twelfth Hour: New Year's, 1999

Somewhere in our twelfth hour of drinking,
The two men who love me become fast friends
Raising glasses above prerequisite bouquets
To salute the generosity of my haunches
Gulping years spent under their delicate mouths
Later, the body, passed back & forth
Like a bottle between self & lover
Gets hung over, some old fool
Wakes sobbing in the morning
But now: sparkling gold
Quenches dry night air
& we are singing like bells


Frank Matagrono
matagrano@mindspring.com


http://movingplatform.home.mindspring.com

Bio (auto)

Published in several periodicals, including Pudding Magazine. Currently resides in New York.


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


Keeping the Curtain Together


Gormley told me about the long thin string
which kept the curtain together like that.
The neighbor's stereo made it's way through
the kitchen wall. "Last night, I swore
I was in Berlin again," she added.
Gormley believed she lived three past lives.
The landlord, who had nine, informed her once
that Jesus had "other things on his mind"
when he changed the water to wine.


Making Yeast Rise

The chef performed
witchcraft
to make yeast
rise. 

What he found keen
was the flour halo
around the lamp.

Little Jesus above
the door looked
off the cross to catch
a glimpse, too.


Packing His Twelve Wings

I was 79 dollars and 95 cents away from Manhattan if one cashed
in the miles between me and Alan. All the blood that moved
the body stopped in Providence, Rhode Island; there were
too many people to save here, and Alan, too, who traded
a carton of cigarettes to the cops in exchange for one more
day to live, would have packed his twelve wings and baritone voice
before the streets named after dead mayors were swallowed
up and lost in the wide womb of uncreated night
,
and stood behind a woman who kept all of that
religion hidden under a dress for over thirty years
who waited to buy a ticket, a five hour ride
to where subway tokens were a buck fifty,
where Mickey Mouse was the pretty whore of Times Square,
where blacks and Koreans once cut each other's throat
for sport outside a deli on the corner of Lenox and 125th.