[New-Poetry] "Quarter-inch Grapes: A Lie in Progress"

[James Cervantes]

"Eight thousand miles inland, the scallop was as far from home as it
would ever get, but it was happy in the totally electronic, fully
computerized studio where it composed miniaturized, one-minute
symphonies." - Post Toasted Stories, Siobhan Al-Gomez


"Trinpan made bullets from his mother's antique furniture.  The
casings he would make from his father's belt buckles, which in turn
had been made from his grandfather's school bells. His victims,
however, were complete strangers, unrelated except for the fact that
they'd all voted for the gunsmith as mayor." - fr. The Kinship Wars,
Nikolai DiPiero


"Tina was the penny in his life; his wife was the nickel." - fr. The
Married Pocket, Aurora Stinger


"Like most little boys, Jimmy suspected he had a worm inside him:
endless, uncoiling at night to sneak out his ear, though most of it
would be uncoiled and at rest in every part of his body.  It was also
the cause of shortcomings he would realize forty years later." - fr.
Fully Cooked Memoirs, Henry Inez


"The decision was whether to insert his tongue between the demitasse
spoon of her big toe and the second toe, or between the fourth toe and
the little toe which she held like a little finger arched beside a tea
cup.  Both places had that faint sweet and sour smell and led his eyes
like a telescope at an overlook to the neat and dewy folds of her
vulva.  But she had propped herself up on her elbows and was looking
at him quizzically, wondering about the delay." - fr. The Viagra
Diaries, Alistaire Rimm


"The old neighborhood was still haunted by her absence.  Her festooned
umbrellas could not be replaced by pin oaks drooping with mistletoe.
The deep ditches and high curbs were no substitute for her torrents of
figurative language buttressed by keen insight.  People walked in that
neighborhood as if they were mutes looking for a lost child, though
the warm tortillas rolled and cupped in their hands offered some
comfort." -  fr. Sans Salsa, Fiona Betts-Garcia


"It was another steely winter, branches and icicles making the same
sound when they snapped.  The sky merely lightened and darkened.  A
hundred and ten days of the same snapshot, the same smoke rising in
the same way from the same chimney.  Olga's dreams supplied the only
variety, each of them different every night.  Too bad she could not
remember them, though she woke from each with the same thought: the
dams will hold in spring."  - fr. Phelgm-Phlam, Piers Wong


"The instant the bullet entered his neck, the taste of grandfather's
pipe bloomed in his mouth.  Then he heard the drums.
   Two weeks later he awoke to the touch and blur of a pale hand
stroking his arm.  He turned to the window and bolted upright when he
saw the rooftops of the West Village." - fr. Couture Shock, Mike
Lost-Horses


"Norway is quite dead so why even bother to slice iceberg lettuce?
Why dye something black when you can buy it that way?  Cut me." - fr.
Where's The Fucking Doorman?, Sasha Glabrus


"'Identity politics, that's what it is.  Identity has become a buzzsaw
in contemporary culture. Besides, there exists a relationship between
mastery of the world and alienation from it.  What does it mean to
occupy an Archimedean vantage-point?,' asked Professor Freisian in the
quiet of the lecture hall - so quiet that each student could hear the
heartbeat of his/her neighbor." -  fr. The Sixth Year, Rajdeep
O'Reilly


"Someone called him 'mummy wheat' and he immediately dialed the
windows down to dusk, made sure his machine was synchronized with
various satellites, and began the search in fourteen disciplines.
Around 3 a.m. he realized no scholar or blogger had previously joined
'mummy' with 'wheat.'  His intuition told him, however, that 'mummy
wheat' was likely synonymous with 'dust'." - fr. The Smaller
Questions, Albert Bryce


"No matter which professional he hired to rid his mind of
nymphestations, there always remained the high arch of a small foot
facing heavenward." - fr. The Mother Ode, Pablo Cinquentas


"These worms live in dichotomous earth, while these thrive beneath
urban mulch. Those with the orange and red bands favor shower drains.
Then there are the droopers, which hang above beds and camouflage
themselves in the varying shades of dawn light." - fr. Sleeping With
Mythyphous, Arnold Dheep

-- Jim
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