July 1998
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Poetry Page

Save Chia

Terra cotta skin looks slimy when it's wet she said.
Why? I said.
Because it's WET she said.

I couldn't keep my cheeks dry,
its bare orange skin,
Lines scanning from neck to ass.

What? she said.

Putrid!! I whaled

Ignored my cry
Her mind numb from whipping the paste.

Spread it on thick she said,  It looks better that way

Yes,  looks great,  pressing the black seeds into the scars.

neck to ass
neck to ass
ass to neck 
ass to neck

GrrrrrrrrrrrAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!     PUTRID!

The whole body fit perfectly in the palm of my hand.

The orange skin on blue sky,  very complimentary.  Cheese n' crackers.

Splither, CRACK
shattered and scattered on the brick of her house.

By Kelly Porter

They Call Me "The Dyslexic"

I know I'm just a teenager,
about to turn 71 years old.
Any day of the week, ll'I wager,
that I'll up mix hot and cold.

My freinds lal think 'Im stupid,
Ym mmo says I'll read soon.
Teh raeding tutor says "put a on it lid"
strangers thnik I'm a fckuing loon.

I know don't what lexdysic means,
Maybe I'll read about it eventually.
But for now,  I'll try to count beans.
one, xis, ereht.  Waht you do mean "silly"?

someweek, I'd kile to eb alnorm.
Why laugh they do me at I shout?
Oh, Uh, cemos hree a storm.
Lightning!  Go I do inside or out?

By Frank Volny


Fields of tire tracks forced into the ground like barbed wire into
prickly skin
It is cold and shimmering like snake's skin
Powdery and fleshy white film covers my eyes
They are dilated and still, with no remainer of release
Black lace wrapped around the slowly tapping drift of fingertips
Silence consumes my lust for ever waking breath

By "Stella Folds"


Floundering like a leaky boat, suspended in the stillness of frozen
psychotic madness
My ears are a time bomb, ready to explode
It conjures upunforgiven wounds
And written works only to devise a reckoning day
An armageddon of substance awaits
And the boat sinks into potently subdued encrusted waters

By "Stella Folds"

Industrial Strength

Steel cold bars to scratch out intake
Kicking over pill bottles like garbage can banana peels
Slickness shimmers over the throats and the mouths
The stare into philosophy leaves materials overturned

Vitamin knockoffs complain of a good gouge in the stomach
Beckoning sugar coated lies from stereo feedback
Some sort of savior reaches into the dusk
Some madness tells why it never really hurts

Sonic-stretched over some 14 miles down the road
Head lights passing over an evasion
Chemical imbalances over arm wrestling
Held in the pubs of economic slavery

By "Stella Folds"

Do you have poetry?

Send it on in! It can be romantic, heart-warming, humorous, or epic--we dont care! But if it makes the cut, you'll see it in the next issue of The Shrubbery. E-mail it to submit@theshrubbery.prohosting.com

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