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Dusty Dog Reviews The whole project is hip, anti-academic, the poetry of reluctant grown-ups, picking noses in church. An enjoyable romp! Though also serious.
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Nick DiSpoldo, Small Press Review (on Children, Churches and Daddies, April 1997) Children, Churches and Daddies is eclectic, alive and is as contemporary as tomorrow’s news. |
ISSN 1068-5154
poam: a conversation with Jimbo Breen, by Janet Kuypers
dedicated to Steve, a marine
we sat at the poolside together;
you asking me about how I’ve been
as the sun beat down
and we talked about nuclear war.
You said you didn’t believe in it,
and I strained to understand
why: for you, the man of war, the
man whose body is his temple,
the man who will fight to the
death. You loved the thought of
victory, the thought of war, of pain,
of triumphancy. And I sat there
in the swimming pool while you sat
on the edge. I paused. Then it
occurred to me: you would want
a method of fighting more direct,
slower, more painful, more personal,
than a nuclear war. You’d want to
fight them one on one, man to
man, with your fists. And your eyes
lit up. I was beginning to understand,
now, only years later. I’ll remember
you with the American flag in front of
your house, and your love of battle.
Winter Hat Magic, by Mary Winters
Never seen a winter hat I did not like -
the richest stuff of alchemy, of wondrous transformation.
On frigid, dreary city streets
hats mark out the serious, hurrying elves
the briefcase-bearers from the Middle Ages, and
those from another planet.
My white beret makes me a mushroom, says offspring.
What about his hat with giant squirrel ears attached
or spouse’s topper converting him to one
nineteenth century English detective?
Even a humble scarf can change one, hey presto, to a
shiek or a bride or a swami or nun.
The right hat converts us to our totem animal or vegetable
who we were in a previous lifetime and will be in the future
what creature animals would consider us to resemble
and, to how the lesser gods see us:
in winter hat magic, they give us
the occasional portent or revelation
their whimsical tribute to possibility -
and we must be grateful for small favors.
Unlucky Gaud, by Mary Winters
Hapless Christmas tree - to those who
value immortality and temperance.
Why not the ephemeral
flash across the plain domestic sky
to dazzle the steady homemaker on entering
the livingroom with a basketful of laundry
tree just standing there full confident
a glad sight in the noonday sun:
ten strings of lights ablaze
golden tinsel garlands shimmering
as they thrill in the air currents
excited by visiting boy in army cap -
our tree an extravagant show in a
simple Cape Cod vacation house.
Yet our regal tree is brave, but never
safe: after years of unruffled growing
the seasonal changes well understood
that unexpected lop, the binding
then the jarring truck ride to its
brief moment of utter glory...
So soon tossed into the yard for
its last trip, to the dump
its naive and self-deluded grand gesture
through - so the lesser gods see us.
What Mom Served Up, by Paul Weinman
Why? When you break
through the window, grab
me by my throat, throw
me down and demand blood
... why should I think back
to when money counted more
meant more than simple sex.
It wasn’t that I led you on
wasn’t I that taught you
those secrets sucked from between
other thighs than mine. I warned
you. Even let you taste mine.
Remember maple syrup? Remember
your First Confession?
Fall of Silence, by Paul Weinman
There are no fireflies
to follow in the fall.
If you listen,
you may hear several leaves
lightly settle in the night.
Or see a cloud more crisply
as it changes in shapes of gray and white.
What leads you into the late woods
are not mysterious dots of light,
but the hollow sounds of the dead
things on the cooling ground.
Those soundes are almost echoes
of how you know you will be heard.
They are the same as your father’s
long ago voice.
And your mother when she touched
her two wrinked hands together.
Those sounds.
There are no fireflies
to follow in the fall,
only your own footsteps
alone into the night.
Even the frogs are silent.
book ‘em, dan-o, by Cheryl Townsend
John drove home drunk and
ran into a tlelphone pole
and was taken downtown for
the night got ten days and
his lisence taken away too
Dave raped his niece over a
four year period was taken
downtown for the night got
ten days and kept his cock
On and on and on, by Cheryl Townsend
They called me a slut
for fucking him
They called him a stud
for fucking me
I say my vagina has the same rights
as any man’s penis and should be filled
as justifiably as they can fill it
But the choice is just as much mine
as it is when it is his
Each Alone, by Deloris Selinky
There was a time
when you and I
and Love were young.
But that’s no longer
so. For love has gone.
Raced on ahead
(or was it backward)?
Left us both
to totter on
separate,
unapproachable
to one another.
ikebana, by Janet Kuypers
Rolled up sleeves,
Dark denim, strings pulled
At the buttons
Your hands, the
Rough edges, the nails
Jagged, not cut
Your fingers, I’ve
Noticed them: one has
A long scar
Along the tip, and
Your skin is rough
Along the nails
Your hands, they’re
Skilled hands of an
Artist at work:
And like a
Conductor, you
Orchestrate
Bring beauty
From the dying
Flowers at
The table. They
Line up quickly,
At attention:
Fall into
Place so gracefully.
You create
Symphonies,
Move mountains, Seas
Part for you.
You can do
Anything. I
See that now.
You must be
My savior. Let me
Follow you.
Let me create
Beauty in your
Name, let me
Feel your power.
It’s all in your
Hands, your heart,
Your mind:
I’ve seen you stop
Wars, feed the
Hungry. Why are
You so strong? Why
Are your flowers
So beautiful
Horse Number Three, by Gerald Gullickson
No more than my painted smile
I, Horse Number Three,
plunge in unison
twenty strong
My curved forelegs
my silver saddle
my painted smile
multiplied
As though pleasure
were routine
as though all were
simply twentied
But stopping ends all
plunging, circling -
and those children’s smiles
subtracted twenty times
So we breathe deeply
plunge-ready
smiling again
twenty strong
Shelley’s Stalled Engine, by Harold Fleming
Listen, Shelley - in another hour the moon
beaming at your window, charging your thoughts
you went to sleep with, so wrapped up in knots
the blanket was the first thing you forgot
till the cold moon reminded you to twist.
You caught your leg and heaved-ho with your hip,
hauling the blanket aboard. The moon stayed,
voyeur to your twisting and turning body
that will never be another body’s slave.
Moon, not man, does that. Irresistible
moon and stars and sun should be outlawed
when Shelley unwraps herself. She doesn’t need ‘em.
She lives in a furry world but sleeps in this one
where man has been no more than a stalled engine.
Childhood Memories one, by Janet Kuypers
I was in the basement, the playroom
that’s where all my toys were, you see
and I had just run in there after yelling
at my family sitting in the living room
“I hate you”
now, I’ve never said that before to
my family, nor would I ever say
it again I knew better
and I had just run into the playroom
slammed the door shut
I couldn’t have been more than five
and I ran in, and I looked for things
to put in front of the door so they
couldn’t open it and find me
I took one of my chairs
from my little playset
and dragged it over to the door
then I took the little schoolhouse for
Fischer-Price toys, the side opened
up, it had a blackboard and everything
I took that little schoolhouse, put it
on the chair guarding the door
patiently obeying my orders
I was running around looking for
something else I could carry
to the door
when I heard the door knob turn
and my sister, with one arm
pushed all of my toys away
and opened the door
I knew I had been defeated
Surveillance, by Richard King Perkins II
There is no room left in my head
For anything else.
With sad regard, I remove my eyes,
Never having used them well enough.
Spy cameras
Sweep through angles of paranoia,
Unblinking lenses leave a static trail.
Each year,
I punch more holes in my house.
You can never be sure what’s out there;
A fading sun, digesting humus.
Openings in the wall
Are not ragged windows in my home
But seeping depressions in my skull
Which I can use for seeing -
A thousand or more settings for eyes.
It’s doubtful I’ll ever need them,
Because there’s an acute strength
Required when giving up
And I can see its severed flower now,
Crying in unbroken moonlight,
Petals swiveled on the ground
In every possible direction.
Oh, Yes, Agnes, by Gerald Gullickson
Dance of atoms
dance of dancers
Take your choice
Order ordering on order
or order ordering order
You must decide
For we do not
all dance
One way
This Fire, by Corrine DeWinter
On hot asphalt a boy turns
A still bird over with a stick,
Gathers the loose feathers of Summer
With a vague fear for the season’s new breed.
We are watching for a sign
Discernable to all things living
Or nestled in the earth
As we go deeper for a platnum god.
Familiar is your own silence
And the chenistry of tears.
Strange is the course of nature
That never fails to bond.
Venus surfaces to brighten
Your barren pupil with solid light.
This fire is brief,
Soon hastens from your world.
See how the pale
Cheek of the moon coyly turns
Away from the distant
Green and blue.
The first star
Burns your heart
With mute wishes.
America, by Larry Blazek
take what you want
with guns
never mind
malcolm’s chickens
untitled, by Paul Weinman
We saw her stopped
on Main... poking
dabbing at windshield.
I can’t keep the rain
off she said looking
up in fear. What’s
wrong with the wipers?
I asked to face
of I don’t know
what you mean it’s
never been like this
before.
rain, by Janet Kuypers
The rain is coming
down so hard now... I
don’t think it has ever
been this hard. I have
to stop it, I have to
save myself from it.
I can’t drive like this.
The wipers only brush
it off after it has hit.
I have to stop it, keep
it away from me
my father, shooting an animal, by Janet Kuypers
we sat in our
dining room, looking out
the sliding glass doors
onto the patio, the
expanse of concrete that
led to the pool, fenced
away from the ravine.
Father had a dislocated
shoulder, his arm was
in a sling. He had
a friend’s shotgun, some
sort of instrument
and he looked out
the window, sister and I
behind him, looking
over his shoulder.
And then he saw a small
squirrel, walking
along the edge of the
patio, and father opened the
sliding glass doors
propped his gun
over his dislocated shoulder,
tried to look
through the sight and
keep the gun balanced. He
usually didn’t use
guns, he seldom
borrowed them. And here he
stood, in his own
house, aiming at the
animal at the edge of our
property, with one
good arm. And then
he shot. We all looked; the
animal, hit, stumbled
into a nearby hole.
He hit the animal, despite all
his trouble, all his pain.
People wonder why
he shot the animal. I wonder
how. Could I do it, even
with two good arms.
Could I see through the sight,
could I aim well, strike.
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One piece in this issue is “Crazy,” an interview Kuypers conducted with “Madeline,” a murderess who was found insane, and is confined to West Virginia’s Arronsville Correctional Center. Madeline, whose elevator definitely doesn’t go to the top, killed her boyfriend during sex with an ice pick and a chef’s knife, far surpassing the butchery of Elena Bobbitt. Madeline, herself covered with blood, sat beside her lover’s remains for three days, talking to herself, and that is how the police found her. For effect, Kuypers publishes Madeline’s monologue in different-sized type, and the result is something between a sense of Dali’s surrealism and Kafka-like craziness.
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Debra Purdy Kong, writer, British Columbia, Canada
I like the magazine a lot. I like the spacious lay-out and the different coloured pages and the variety of writer’s styles. Too many literary magazines read as if everyone graduated from the same course. We need to collect more voices like these and send them everywhere.
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As for the fiction, the piece by Anderson is quite perceptive: I liked the way the self-deluding situation of the character is gradually, subtly revealed. (Kuypers’) story is good too: the way it switches narrative perspective via the letter device is a nice touch.
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Children, Churches and Daddies.
It speaks for itself.
Write to Scars Publications to submit poetry, prose and artwork to Children, Churches and Daddies literary magazine, or to inquire about having your own chapbook, and maybe a few reviews like these.
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what is veganism?
A vegan (VEE-gun) is someone who does not consume any animal products. While vegetarians avoid flesh foods, vegans don’t consume dairy or egg products, as well as animal products in clothing and other sources.
why veganism?
This cruelty-free lifestyle provides many benefits, to animals, the environment and to ourselves. The meat and dairy industry abuses billions of animals. Animal agriculture takes an enormous toll on the land. Consumtion of animal products has been linked to heart disease, colon and breast cancer, osteoporosis, diabetes and a host of other conditions.
so what is vegan action?
We can succeed in shifting agriculture away from factory farming, saving millions, or even billions of chickens, cows, pigs, sheep turkeys and other animals from cruelty.
We can free up land to restore to wilderness, pollute less water and air, reduce topsoil reosion, and prevent desertification.
We can improve the health and happiness of millions by preventing numerous occurrences od breast and prostate cancer, osteoporosis, and heart attacks, among other major health problems.
A vegan, cruelty-free lifestyle may be the most important step a person can take towards creatin a more just and compassionate society. Contact us for membership information, t-shirt sales or donations.
vegan action
po box 4353, berkeley, ca 94707-0353
510/704-4444
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I really like (“Writing Your Name”). It’s one of those kind of things where your eye isn’t exactly pulled along, but falls effortlessly down the poem. I liked “knowledge” for its mix of disgust and acceptance. Janet Kuypers does good little movies, by which I mean her stuff provokes moving imagery for me. Color, no dialogue; the voice of the poem is the narrator over the film.
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Children, Churches and Daddies no longer distributes free contributor’s copies of issues. In order to receive issues of Children, Churches and Daddies, contact Janet Kuypers at the cc&d e-mail addres. Free electronic subscriptions are available via email. All you need to do is email ccandd@scars.tv... and ask to be added to the free cc+d electronic subscription mailing list. And you can still see issues every month at the Children, Churches and Daddies website, located at http://scars.tv
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MIT Vegetarian Support Group (VSG)
functions:
* To show the MIT Food Service that there is a large community of vegetarians at MIT (and other health-conscious people) whom they are alienating with current menus, and to give positive suggestions for change.
* To exchange recipes and names of Boston area veg restaurants
* To provide a resource to people seeking communal vegetarian cooking
* To provide an option for vegetarian freshmen
We also have a discussion group for all issues related to vegetarianism, which currently has about 150 members, many of whom are outside the Boston area. The group is focusing more toward outreach and evolving from what it has been in years past. We welcome new members, as well as the opportunity to inform people about the benefits of vegetarianism, to our health, the environment, animal welfare, and a variety of other issues.
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Dusty Dog Reviews: These poems document a very complicated internal response to the feminine side of social existence. And as the book proceeds the poems become increasingly psychologically complex and, ultimately, fascinating and genuinely rewarding.
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Some excellent writing in “Hope Chest in the Attic.” I thought “Children, Churches and Daddies” and “The Room of the Rape” were particularly powerful pieces.
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C Ra McGuirt, Editor, The Penny Dreadful Review: CC&D is obviously a labor of love ... I just have to smile when I go through it. (Janet Kuypers) uses her space and her poets to best effect, and the illos attest to her skill as a graphic artist.
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Dusty Dog Reviews: She opens with a poem of her own devising, which has that wintry atmosphere demonstrated in the movie version of Boris Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago. The atmosphere of wintry white and cold, gloriously murderous cold, stark raging cold, numbing and brutalizing cold, appears almost as a character who announces to his audience, “Wisdom occurs only after a laboriously magnificent disappointment.” Alas, that our Dusty Dog for mat cannot do justice to Ms. Kuypers’ very personal layering of her poem across the page.
Fithian Press, Santa Barbara, CA
Indeed, there’s a healthy balance here between wit and dark vision, romance and reality, just as there’s a good balance between words and graphics. The work shows brave self-exploration, and serves as a reminder of mortality and the fragile beauty of friendship.
Mark Blickley, writer
The precursor to the magazine title (Children, Churches and Daddies) is very moving. “Scars” is also an excellent prose poem. I never really thought about scars as being a form of nostalgia. But in the poem it also represents courage and warmth. I look forward to finishing her book.
You Have to be Published to be Appreciated.
Do you want to be heard? Contact Children, Churches and Daddies about book or chapbook publishing. These reviews can be yours. Scars Publications, attention J. Kuypers. We’re only an e-mail away. Write to us.
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The Center for Renewable Energy and Sustainable Technology
The Solar Energy Research & Education Foundation (SEREF), a non-profit organization based in Washington, D.C., established on Earth Day 1993 the Center for Renewable Energy and Sustainable Technology (CREST) as its central project. CREST’s three principal projects are to provide:
* on-site training and education workshops on the sustainable development interconnections of energy, economics and environment;
* on-line distance learning/training resources on CREST’s SOLSTICE computer, available from 144 countries through email and the Internet;
* on-disc training and educational resources through the use of interactive multimedia applications on CD-ROM computer discs - showcasing current achievements and future opportunities in sustainable energy development.
The CREST staff also does “on the road” presentations, demonstrations, and workshops showcasing its activities and available resources.
For More Information Please Contact: Deborah Anderson
dja@crest.org or (202) 289-0061
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Dorrance Publishing Co., Pittsburgh, PA
“Hope Chest in the Attic” captures the complexity of human nature and reveals startling yet profound discernments about the travesties that surge through the course of life. This collection of poetry, prose and artwork reflects sensitivity toward feminist issues concerning abuse, sexism and equality. It also probes the emotional torrent that people may experience as a reaction to the delicate topics of death, love and family.
“Chain Smoking” depicts the emotional distress that afflicted a friend while he struggled to clarify his sexual ambiguity. Not only does this thought-provoking profile address the plight that homosexuals face in a homophobic society, it also characterizes the essence of friendship. “The room of the rape” is a passionate representation of the suffering rape victims experience. Vivid descriptions, rich symbolism, and candid expressions paint a shocking portrait of victory over the gripping fear that consumes the soul after a painful exploitation.
want a review like this? contact scars about getting your own book published.
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The magazine Children Churches and Daddies is Copyright �
through
Scars Publications and Design. The rights of the individual pieces remain with the authors. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.
Okay, nilla wafer. Listen up and listen good. How to save your life. Submit, or I’ll have to kill you.
Okay, butt-munch. Tough guy. This is how to win the editors over.
Carlton Press, New York, NY: HOPE CHEST IN THE ATTIC is a collection of well-fashioned, often elegant poems and short prose that deals in many instances, with the most mysterious and awesome of human experiences: love... Janet Kuypers draws from a vast range of experiences and transforms thoughts into lyrical and succinct verse... Recommended as poetic fare that will titillate the palate in its imagery and imaginative creations.
You Have to be Published to be Appreciated.
Dorrance Publishing Co., Pittsburgh, PA: “Hope Chest in the Attic” captures the complexity of human nature and reveals startling yet profound discernments about the travesties that surge through the course of life. This collection of poetry, prose and artwork reflects sensitivity toward feminist issues concerning abuse, sexism and equality. It also probes the emotional torrent that people may experience as a reaction to the delicate topics of death, love and family. “Chain Smoking” depicts the emotional distress that afflicted a friend while he struggled to clarify his sexual ambiguity. Not only does this thought-provoking profile address the plight that homosexuals face in a homophobic society, it also characterizes the essence of friendship. “The room of the rape” is a passionate representation of the suffering rape victims experience. Vivid descriptions, rich symbolism, and candid expressions paint a shocking portrait of victory over the gripping fear that consumes the soul after a painful exploitation.
Debra Purdy Kong, writer, British Columbia, Canada (on Children, Churches and Daddies): I like the magazine a lot. I like the spacious lay-out and the different coloured pages and the variety of writer’s styles. Too many literary magazines read as if everyone graduated from the same course. We need to collect more voices like these and send them everywhere.
ccandd96@scars.tv
Publishers/Designers Of
Sponsors Of
Okay, it’s this simple: send me published or unpublished poetry, prose or art work (do not send originals), along with a bio, to us - then sit around and wait... Pretty soon you’ll hear from the happy people at cc&d that says (a) Your work sucks, or (b) This is fancy crap, and we’re gonna print it. It’s that simple!
Hope Chest in the Attic is a 200 page, perfect-bound book of 13 years of poetry, prose and art by Janet Kuypers. It’s a really classy thing, if you know what I mean. We also have a few extra sopies of the 1999 book “Rinse and Repeat”, the 2001 book “Survive and Thrive”, the 2001 books “Torture and Triumph” and “(no so) Warm and Fuzzy”,
which all have issues of cc&d crammed into one book. And you can have either one of these things at just five bucks a pop if you just contact us and tell us you saw this ad space. It’s an offer you can’t refuse...
Mark Blickley, writer: The precursor to the magazine title (Children, Churches and Daddies) is very moving. “Scars” is also an excellent prose poem. I never really thought about scars as being a form of nostalgia. But in the poem it also represents courage and warmth. I look forward to finishing the book.
Do you want to be heard? Contact Children, Churches and Daddies about book and chapbook publishing. These reviews can be yours. Scars Publications, attention J. Kuypers - you can write for yourself or you can write for an audience. It’s your call...
Dusty Dog Reviews, CA (on knife): These poems document a very complicated internal response to the feminine side of social existence. And as the book proceeds the poems become increasingly psychologically complex and, ultimately, fascinating and genuinely rewarding.
Children, Churches and Daddies. It speaks for itself.
Dusty Dog Reviews (on Without You): She open with a poem of her own devising, which has that wintry atmosphere demonstrated in the movie version of Boris Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago. The atmosphere of wintry white and cold, gloriously murderous cold, stark raging cold, numbing and brutalizing cold, appears almost as a character who announces to his audience, “Wisdom occurs only after a laboriously magnificent disappointment.” Alas, that our Dusty Dog for mat cannot do justice to Ms. Kuypers’ very personal layering of her poem across the page.
Children, Churches and Daddies. It speaks for itself.
Fithian Press, Santa Barbara, CA: Indeed, there’s a healthy balance here between wit and dark vision, romance and reality, just as there’s a good balance between words and graphics. The work shows brave self-exploration, and serves as a reminder of mortality and the fragile beauty of friendship.
the unreligious, non-family oriented literary and art magazine
Scars Publications and Design
http://scars.tv
Children, Churches and Daddies magazine
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No racist, sexist or blatantly homophobic material. No originals; if mailed, include SASE & bio.
Work sent on disks or through e-mail preferred. Previously published work accepted. Authors always retain rights to their own work. All magazine rights reserved. Reproduction of
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Children, Churches and Daddies copyright
through
Scars Publications and Design, Children, Churches and Daddies, Janet Kuypers. All rights remain with the authors of the individual
pieces. No material may be reprinted without express permission.