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.

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.

Children, Churches and Daddies

Volume 42

The Unreligious, Non-Family-Oriented Literary and Art Magazine

ISSN 1068-5154

paper, by Gabriel Athens

park
bench
paper
pigeons
watch you
glasses
legs
hiding
know
you
name
face
bench
newspaper
footsteps
story
here
made
move
bench
aloof
sat
away
paper
eyes
burned
pages
breath
streaming
body.
eyelids
open
close
heat
radiated
paper
you
gone


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


Childhood Memories two, by Janet Kuypers

I was in the basement, the playroom
thet’s where all my toys were, you see
and Sheri was with me
and we were playing house
or maybe it was office, we did that
instead a lot of the times. I had old forms
that businesses were throwing away,
we had two desks, dead calculators
my sister even made a switchboard for me
well, we were playing grown-up, whatever
the specifics were, I don’t remember. Why
do children want to grow up anyway?
Because it’s a different kind of pain, I think.
Well, we were playing this make-believe,
when I proceeded to go the the toy chest,
pull out my sister’s old communion veil,
and walk around the pool table in the center
of the room, take a step, feet together,
take a step, feet together.
What are you doing? she asked. Getting
married, I answered. Chris Caravette and I
were getting married, I said. Chris was a friend
of my sister’s, you see, an older man, in high
school, unlike us poor slobs who were still
children.
and she attended the wedding, and I threw her
the bouquet, and she caught it, just like
she was supposed to do, and when the
whole thing was over I walked my imaginary
groom to the corner of the room and
put away the veil, and that’s when she
took the veil, put it on, and acted like she was
getting married, too.
What are you doing? I asked. Getting
married, she answered. To who? I asked.
To Chris Caravette, she answered. And we
argued and argued, but I just married him,
you’re not supposed to do that, and before
you knew it we were in a shouting match.
Why did we want to grow up anyway? Because
we wanted a different kind of pain, I think.


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.


a life goes by, by Alexandria Rand

1978. Mom and Dad on vacation. Sister in college. Grandma babysitting. She taught me how to play Gin Rummy in the living room. I smudge the finish on the wood table every time I put my hand on it. We play cards for hours.
1983. Grandma is over to baby sit. Sister comes home. “Why isn’t dinner ready, Grandma?” “I didn’t know how to turn on the oven.”
She was a sly old fox, my sister said. She knew how to turn on an oven. Got out of having to make dinner. The chicken kiev was a half hour late.
1986. Spring. Friday, 4:55 p.m. Mom and Dad and Sister dressed for dinner. Dad is waiting for Mom at the door. They still had to pick up Grandma before they drove to Mike Moy’s Restaurant. Mom is checking her eye make-up in the bedroom mirror.
I stand in the doorway to her room. Are you sure you don’t want to go with us?”, she asks. I’d rather stay in the house by myself, play loud music. I was a rebellious youth. I say no. “Tell Grandma I said hi.”
1988. Sister calls. “Grandma is moving to Arizona,” she says. “She’s going to live with Aunt Rose.” She’s leaving in five days.
3 days later. I call her. I tell her I will try to visit her next summer. I tell her I will miss her. I already do miss her. She says she loves me.
I hang up, thinking that she usually doesn’t say that she loves people. She isn’t usually affectionate. I start to cry.
3 days later. I visit family. Father hugs me. He hiccups while crying.
She died this morning, they explain to me. But don’t worry about that now, we’re late for the Christmas party.
I’m in a car. Sister is driving to the family party. We are quiet. She finally speaks. “Are you okay?”, and I tell her that I will be fine. What she doesn’t realize is that I don’t say that I am fine. I look at her face. She turns her head from the road to look at me. I notice now that we really do look alike.
Something in Sister is dead. She is hiding the pain, and it is killing a piece of her. I think a part of me is dying, too.
At the party. Everyone is laughing. Brothers, sisters, nephews, a niece, an uncle. A sister-in-law says to me as she says hello, “I’m sorry.” I try to get drunk on punch.
Sister pulls out a pile of presents for the family. They are from Grandma. Jesus Christ. She died this morning. Somebody say something.
She bought me a pair of earrings.


Conversations, a day of grieving, 1/22/94, by Janet Kuypers

VIII
when their mother died
they asked me to
deliver the sermon
i make it a policy
to meet with the family
try to understand the deceased
before i give a sermon
they met with me
told me how she made
ceramic nativity scenes
for all of her grandchildren
i asked if a grandson
could bring me a set to see
i kept them in my office
for two days
when i first picked them up
and looked at them
i noticed there were
no brush strokes
then i looked more closely
and saw fingerprints
at the service
i placed the figurines
on pillars
each with one candle
and said her prints are on
these figures
and her mark has been made
on all of us
two weeks later
they gave me a madonna
with her prints on it
it is a work of art


You ask me what it’s like to run a farm., by Robert Kimm

(One day I’m drivinf along a
mile south of here, and
espy an “abandoned” farm:
“See on: Once the farmer
goes, the farmgoes.
The farmer’s the center
of the farm.”)
It’s a tradition of
farming going back 150 years:
The first ones, tough sort
Hessian immigrants start
ing big farms in Iowa (1870s),
then, once that’s over-
settled, heading out to the
Great Northwest by covered
wagon, peg-leg + two families
of children,
and starting farms again, on
virgin railroad land.
It’s having an American-born
Grandfather who was raised
in a German-speaking household,
never learned English till
1st grade in school, farmed his
whole adult life (1900-1963.)
- It’s having ten acres of pasture,
gardens, + woods in the 1980s,
+ slaughtering, just like they did
before you - getting to know
hot entrails real well.
- It’s knowing the farm-economy
the farm-order.
- It’s busting holes in the ice in
the water-buckets from Dec. to
March.
- It’s surviving blizzards on the
ridge, realizing the ranch
house is just a ship, rearing and
heaving in a frothy sea-air-
wind-earth milieu.


a match, by Alexandria Rand

“I once set fire to my fingernail.
I wanted my finger to be a
human candle.”
She dropped another match into her glass.
The flame sizzled
in the drops of drink at the bottom.
She struck another match
at the side of the box. Kitchen matches.
Six or seven lay on the cocktail napkin,
ten more at the bottom of the glass.
In a corner booth, in this small club
the flame she aroused looked like
any other table light.
But the club was hers. She owned it
feet on the bench, knees bent.
Everything there focused on her
and the little piece of energy
she held.
Everything there was hers to abuse.
And she struck another match.
“An old flame used to say
that everyone is a pyro at heart.”
And she blushed.
“Yeah, I set my
fingernail on fire
as I was talking to someone.
It was a fake nail. The burning
plastic smelled.
But I didn’t realize what I had done
until I felt the heat on my skin.”
Just then you could see the flame
dancing at her fingertip.
She shook the match. She dropped it in her glass.


Getting the Farm Buttoned Down for Winter, by Robert Kimm

bury the bones
of the pig I
slaughtered
last mo. (November)
dig a hole in
“organic garden”
+ bury them
tell each foor,
each hoof
good-bye
clean up the
litter in the barn
straw, leaves, news-
papers,
rake it into a pile
cart it up +
spread it on top
the bones’ burial site
Potatoes are dug
Tomatoes canned
meat is smiked
salted frozen
The snow starts
Now alls I
do is cut + haul
firewood:
aspen
beech
butternut
cherry


Conversations, a day of grieving, 1/22/94, by Janet Kuypers

VII
there has been a lot of
death
in my family
my brother died
when he was three
i was seven
his appendix exploded
they operated
then they realized
a sponge was missing
it was inside of him
they gave him
some extra penicillin
opened him up again
there was an infection
they removed
the sponge
closed him up
gave him more
penicillin
but they didn’t know
he was allergic
he died within two weeks
my other brother
overdosed on drugs
when he was twenty-seven
i was twenty-six
then a year ago
my son died
he was hit by a car
he was thirteen
at my brother’s funerals
everyone ended up
going to a restaurant
and getting drunk
for hours
i didn’t want that for my son
i made sandwiches and coffee
at my house
in the church it was
standing room only
everyone from the seventh
and eighth grade was there
everyone from every
fire department my
husband ever worked for
was there
there was even a firetruck
for a bed of flowers
there were lines out the door
to the church
there wasn’t any drinking
and people flooded me
at my house
all in all
it was a
very nice funeral


Sweet Sorrow, by Gary A. Scheinoha

Because tonight never ends,
because we live beyond
the twilight years
of the heart,
rising to
the evening
with a dobry vecer
on our lips
and a ready smile
in our eyes,
because we arrive
strangers but part
as close friends,
sbohem just means
till I see you
again.


medicine bag, by Larry Blazek

David was afraid
of Friday the thirteenth
I gave him a little bag
to please his spirits


Remember playing mad libs? One person would ask you for a noun, or a verb, etc. You’d give them your answers, and they would read back to you a story with your words placed in key sentences. The results were potentially very humorous - so here is the Children, Churches and Daddies version. The original (on the left) was revamped three times. Do any of them make sense?

i wanted pain, original by Janet Kuypers

You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.


i wanted thespians, by ben ohmart and Janet Kuypers

You delimited at me to pull over.
You wanted me to demilitarize.
I was hyphenating too fast,
you repudiated,
so I slammed on the residuum
and turned off the communique.
As I nominated outside
I wanted to flood out of the pundit
and bury,
bury until I exacerbated Dale Evans.
And yet I wanted to picket.
I wanted to picket to the stucco.
I wanted to vote the burly flaccid rocks
cutting into my mouse
and slicing my CD.
I wanted posies to feel interglacial again.
But you sat with the pundit,
clueless to the hens racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the legalism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the dump of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a childproof, cardinal reminder
that I still had to stick.


i wanted books, by lorelei jones and Janet Kuypers

You danced at me to pull over.
You wanted me to draw.
I was raining too fast, you ate,
so I slammed on the shoes
and turned off the snow.
As I listened outside
I wanted to plow out of the finger
and play,
play until I flipped Senator Mahar.
And yet I wanted to chew.
I wanted to chew to the paintbrush.
I wanted to sweep thesweet juicy rocks
cutting into my thumbnail
and slicing my roadkill.
I wanted videotape to swim again.
But you sat in the finger,
clueless to the elephants racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the freudism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my fan
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a dusty, furry reminder
that I still had to pick.


i wanted computers, by sandy kuypers and Janet Kuypers

You thought at me to pull over.
You wanted me to study.
I was singing too fast, you shopped,
so I slammed on the mink coat
and turned off the diamond ring.
As I drank outside
I wanted to drive out of the calendar
and call,
call until I read Daniel Day-Lewis.
And yet I wanted toact.
I wanted to act to the movie.
I wanted to work the slow dark rocks
cutting into my letter
and slicing my cucumber.
I wanted pickles to feel sour again.
But you sat in the calendar
clueless to the people racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the dadaism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the car of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a smoky, light reminder
that I still had to walk.

Nick DiSpoldo, Small Press Review (on “Children, Churches and Daddies,” April 1997)

Kuypers is the widely-published poet of particular perspectives and not a little existential rage, but she does not impose her personal or artistic agenda on her magazine. CC+D is a provocative potpourri of news stories, poetry, humor, art and the “dirty underwear” of politics.
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.

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.

Ed Hamilton, writer

#85 (of Children, Churches and Daddies) turned out well. I really enjoyed the humor section, especially the test score answers. And, the cup-holder story is hilarious. I’m not a big fan of poetry - since much of it is so hard to decipher - but I was impressed by the work here, which tends toward the straightforward and unpretentious.
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.

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.

Jim Maddocks, GLASGOW, via the Internet

I’ll be totally honest, of the material in Issue (either 83 or 86 of Children, Churches and Daddies) the only ones I really took to were Kuypers’. TRYING was so simple but most truths are, aren’t they?


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


C Ra McGuirt, Editor, The Penny Dreadful Review (on Children, Churches and Daddies)

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.
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.

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

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.


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.


Gary, Editor, The Road Out of Town (on the Children, Churches and Daddies Web Site)

I just checked out the site. It looks great.

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.

John Sweet, writer (on chapbook designs)

Visuals were awesome. They’ve got a nice enigmatic quality to them. Front cover reminds me of the Roman sculptures of angels from way back when. Loved the staggered tire lettering, too. Way cool. (on “Hope Chest in the Attic”)
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.

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.

Cheryl Townsend, Editor, Impetus (on Children, Churches and Daddies)

The new cc&d looks absolutely amazing. It’s a wonderful lay-out, looks really professional - all you need is the glossy pages. Truly impressive AND the calendar, too. Can’t wait to actually start reading all the stuff inside.. Wanted to just say, it looks good so far!!!

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.


Brian B. Braddock, Writer (on 1996 Children, Churches and Daddies)

I passed on a copy to my brother who is the director of the St. Camillus AIDS programs. We found (Children, Churches and Daddies’) obvious dedication along this line admirable.

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

Brian B. Braddock, Writer (on 1996 Children, Churches and Daddies)

I passed on a copy to my brother who is the director of the St. Camillus AIDS programs. We found (Children, Churches and Daddies’) obvious dedication along this line admirable.


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.


Paul Weinman, Writer (on 1996 Children, Churches and Daddies)

Wonderful new direction (Children, Churches and Daddies has) taken - great articles, etc. (especially those on AIDS). Great stories - all sorts of hot info!

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, 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!

Okay, butt-munch. Tough guy. This is how to win the editors over.
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...

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.
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.

You Have to be Published to be Appreciated.
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...

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.

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.

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.
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.
Children, Churches and Daddies
the unreligious, non-family oriented literary and art magazine
Scars Publications and Design

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http://scars.tv

Publishers/Designers Of
Children, Churches and Daddies magazine
cc+d Ezines
The Burning mini poem books
God Eyes mini poem books
The Poetry Wall Calendar
The Poetry Box
The Poetry Sampler
Mom’s Favorite Vase Newsletters
Reverberate Music Magazine
Down In The Dirt magazine
Freedom and Strength Press forum
plus assorted chapbooks and books
music, poery compact discs
live performances of songs and readings

Sponsors Of
past editions:
Poetry Chapbook Contest, Poetry Book Contest
Prose Chapbook Contest, Prose Book Contest
Poetry Calendar Contest
current editions:
Editor’s Choice Award (writing and web sites)
Collection Volumes

Children, Churches and Daddies (founded 1993) has been written and researched by political groups and writers from the United States, Canada, England, India, Italy, Malta, Norway and Turkey. Regular features provide coverage of environmental, political and social issues (via news and philosophy) as well as fiction and poetry, and act as an information and education source. Children, Churches and Daddies is the leading magazine for this combination of information, education and entertainment.
Children, Churches and Daddies (ISSN 1068-5154) is published quarterly by Scars Publications and Design. Contact us via e-mail (ccandd96@scars.tv) for subscription rates or prices for annual collection books.
To contributors: 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 Children, Churches and Daddies without publisher permission is forbidden. 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.