wake up, rod

so here it is: the terrible & the ugly. enjoy for twenty years nothing but needles i. hospital gown it's never quite as clean as television-- rolls of tape on the floor, the sound of rubber snap the sound of mistake, the sound of collapse but and now I've got the light on her now looking at wrinkles and her nakedness which comforts as if to say I've been there before and I'm going back. ii. electric paddles the pipe in the throat is the wrong sort of pipe but is there to do the breathing like that unnatural resurrection she twice performed on my goldfish. but now it is my turn to arrange the pellets, filter the water, breathe. iii. and I won't rifle through her purse till she's long and clean and dead. iv. transfusion the difference between iodine and blood is the belief that you aren't bleeding six needle pokes and four nurses and I'm still unconvinced we're made of the same stuff but here I have this finger and this nose that maps the differen...

Infinitive 1. past Joe and Shari fuck in the back of a Boston Market. They go there for the roasting smell, that chicken all-spice. He rub his hands on the inside of those ’92 jeans – bedazzle, puffy paint trip his fingers, a tone-arm dig and skip. Hands stuff into stuffing, into buttery hips. Insertion quick, smooth, cold steel pressing perineum, thrusts segment quads with wide chill lines. Hot chicken cook on thick rods like pyres, altars, meat-scented candles pipe mood. Nirvana play on the Discman, treble shrieks. Shoulder blade on Tupperware, jagged little growth mark near his pubis. She touch it, squeeze it, press it, pick it. It go nowhere. They go nowhere. Later, they take the chicken scraps outside. The cats let it rot. 2. present The second gyration elicit a hot flash. He hide the Viagra. He don’t take it – it be the loosening, the slackening, of things inside him and inside her. He spend too much time think about the record store clerk in Toronto, tattoos and cords under gian...

I've got a problem with being told what to do, so here's a choice of two: (1) Write about yourself as a middle aged or older feller/gal/trans/pure energy.       The piece must take place in the home.       Don't skimp on the details, on the physicality of the place and how it is to be in your body. (2) Write about the last thing that happened to you/you did that you didn't want to tell anyone about.      Dive in. Due Monday, November 23rd.