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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
he told me his dreams, by Janet Kuypers
I
he was walking by the
white hen pantry
on sixth and green
and they turned around the
corner in the car
opened fire on him
he was hit over and over
again; his teeth were
shattered by bullets
he said he died then
and he saw from up above
his bloody body
he even saw his obituary
but then he went back, did it
over again: this time
he was in the doctor’s
office. It’s always like this,
he thinks, always
running away from death
he told me his dreams, by Janet Kuypers
II
he was in bed, but
it wasn’t with her, like
he would expect: it was
with her best friend, and
they were making love, in
his bed. he didn’t realize
it wasn’t her until he
was making love. strange;
where was she in the dream
transcribing dreams, by Alexandria Rand
I
I was at a beach, I don’t know
why the dream was there, but
it was, the dream I mean. And
you were there, and your family
too, and at one point your little
sister, the one that isn’t so little
anymore, pulled me to the side
and told me she was pregnant.
She loved her boyfriend, she
couldn’t have an abortion, she
didn’t want to tell her parents.
And she told me, and I didn’t
know what to do. Later in the
dream, still at the beach, she
told you, and your parents, and
you were screaming that you
were going to kill her boyfriend,
and your mother was babbling
what would the neighbors think
and your father was speechless.
And I know that all of you were
hurting her more, that what she
needed most was supportive
words, someone to hold her.
Didn’t you think she was scared
enough, I wanted to ask. But
I didn’t, I watched all of you
do this to her, the poor little girl.
How scared she must have been
he told me his dreams, by Janet Kuypers
III
he was making love to a
woman, he didn’t know
who, he thought she was
blonde. They were in a forest
together, he thinks. And when
they were done, he was
with her later, but she wasn’t
the same woman anymore; in
fact, she was his cousin. Why
does he keep having dreams
like this, he asks me, am I
obsessed with sex? No, I
said, just look closely. Why
do you think things are
never as they seem
raking leaves, by Gabriel Athens
Too many leaves.
Let me help you
I say, let me hold
this bag for you.
You’ve grown so
much, you’re doing
all the hard work
now, and every
year there seem
to be more and
more leaves. It’s
too much for your
father to do.
Too many leaves.
Why does there
seem to be more
this year? They
almost cover all
of our windows
now. Next year
you won’t be
able to see our
house anymore,
the leaves will
take over, it will
be like our house
was never there.
Too many leaves.
Won’t you help
us, my son? You’re
so good
transcribing dreams, by Alexandria Rand
II
me any my sister and my
mother were driving at night
and we were approaching
and s-curve in the street.
We had to turn right, drive
a half block, then turn left.
When we took the corner
there was a fire in the
building right in front of us,
and there were all these
fire trucks and ladders and
water spraying through the
air. And we couldn’t turn
around and go back, we had
to drive past this, and the
car got faster and faster,
I felt like I was being thrown
toward the inferno. And I
saw firemen that were on
ladders on the second and
third floors being thrown
away from the building by
the flames, falling, screaming,
falling to their deaths. And we
sped around the corner, my
sister was falling out of the
car as we took the turn so
fast. She was holding on to
the frame of the car and we
watched firemen fall from
the sky, and I sat in the center
of the backseat, not knowing
what to think, watching it all
he told me his dreams, by Janet Kuypers
IV
as he wakes up less
rested than the night before.
I had a dream my teeth
fell out again, he said.
This time they fell out one by
one, first slowly, then faster.
Sometimes they all fall out
at once, sometimes they fall
one row at a time. I try to
stuff them back into my mouth.
What is this supposed to
mean? I don’t understand.
I just don’t understand these
dreams. What does it mean
when you dream your teeth
fall out, when you dream it
regularly? I think it means
I’m afraid of commitment.
No, I said, it means
you’re pregnant. That didn’t
go over well with him. And he
walked to the washroom,
brushed his teeth, made sure to
floss, like he would four
more times that day
SILENT NIGHT, by Diana Lee Goldman
SILENT NIGHT
Not much was new in the Kristiani household this Yule. The house was decorated and festive and they would put the tree up tonight as soon as everyone arrived home. Mary, exhausted after a long day at the office, stepped out onto the deck for a breath of the chilly night air. A starless gray lavender blanket covered the heavens, serenely tucking in the moon and the stars for this evening. A pale pink aura escaped the horizon like an insuppressible dream. Mary sighed, lit a cigarette
and thought about taking painting lessons in the Spring. Joe and the kids would probably think she was being silly. The phone rang inside and shattered her thoughts. It was Joe calling to say he’d be home a little later than expected. Mary knew in her heart he was having an affair, but what good would a confrontation do.
Just last night, Joe had stood out on this same deck for what seemed like a very long time. Life for him seemed just perfect. His job paid him more money than he ever dreamed he would make. He loved his wife and adored his latest girlfriend, even though lately she had been hinting at the possibility of his leaving Mary. It might be time to break it off. But it could wait. Right now the solitary star in the night sky seemed ablaze in his glory. The air was still and black and motionless as if it dared not breathe and disturb the precarious balance.
Their son, Justin, was now on his way home furious with the burdensome weight of adolescence. He walked home beneath the same sky under which his mother dreamt. He looked up into the barren sky where the moon and stars had been given the night off. The sky just glared back oppressively. Sullen, silent and eerie, the heavens appeared encased in a shroud. He tried not to think about his girlfriend’s abortion. The alcohol was helping.
His sister, Felicia, had just arrived home, anxious and eager to decorate the tree. Last night had been wonderful. Her first formal dance left her with a lingering radiant glow. She and her date had stood with their arms around each other, and the heavens smiled down on them. One star, no moon, and a warm rosy sheen embraced the landscape. The friendly blinking star radiated the black sky, as distant members of the solar system decided not to compete. She was content in her innocence.
The family, finally all together, strung the tangled lights upon the tree and placed each memory filled ornament on with loving care. Memories filled the silent room as Joe lifted his grown daughter to place the angel atop the tree. They wished each other Merry Christmas, exchanged gifts of love, and went their separate ways, each encompassed like an individual ornament surrounded with their own memories.
Mary went upstairs to put away her gifts. She sprayed on her favorite perfume, a gift from Felicia and opened the box of potpourri that Justin had made himself. The scent of fragrant spices filled the room. She held the gold and diamond earrings up to her ears and watched them glitter in the mirror. She wondered if Joe had picked them out himself.
Outside in the chilled night air, the black sky still imprisoned the moon and the stars.
Diana Lee Goldman
transcribing dreams, by Alexandria Rand
III
I was walking into your livingroom
and there was a ten-gallon fish
tank there. You just bought it. You
were looking at the fish, that’s when
I walked over. And I saw a shark
fish in the tank, one about eight
inches long, and he was at the bottom,
killing and eating a four-inch fish.
There were other one-inch fish
swimming at the top, neon tetras,
small things. And I walked over and
the shark was just eating the four-
inch fish, and soon he was completely
gone. And you were just looking,
you could do nothing to save the fish.
And then another four-inch fish
came out of hiding from behind a plant
on the left side of the tank, and he
darted around. It looked like he was
in a state of panic, maybe he breathed
the blood of the other four-inch
fish, his ally, his family. And he
started darting around the tank, and
the shark was just sitting at the
bottom of the tank, and the other
four-inch fish darted more. And then
the shark opened his mouth, and in
a darting panic, the four-inch fish
swim straight into the shark’s
mouth. All he had to do was close
his mouth and swallow the fish whole.
There was no fight, like with the
first one. There was no struggle.
And I looked over at you, and you
were amazed that this shark just ate
your two fish, which were probably
over ten dollars each, and that they
didn’t just get along in the tank
together. And I looked at the tank,
and I saw the one-inch neon tetras
darting around along the top of the
water. They knew they would be
victims later, trapped in this little
cage, and that the shark would just
wait until he was bored until he
administered his punishment. I
wanted to ask you why you
bought all of these different-sized
fish and expected them to live together
peacefully. Maybe you didn’t even
realize that the shark would need
more food than he was prepared to
but him. Besides, a shark that size
shouldn’t even be alone in a tank as
small as ten gallons. He needs room
to grow. But before I could say
anything, I saw the shark swim to
the top of the water, push his head
and nose out of the water, open the
lid to the top of the aquarium. You
weren’t looking, so I told you to
look to the top, and not to get too
close. And the shark just sat there,
looking at you, and it looked as if
he wanted to show you what a good
eater he was. It was almost as if
he was looking to you for approval.
Poam: Militant Man With Schizophrenia, by Jimbo Breen
I
the problem with people
in this country today
is they don’t love
the US of Goddamn A anymore
All these yuppie faggots
riding their trains to work
their bmws their jags
and I went to war for ‘em
went to hell and back
we chanted
sodomize hussein for ‘em
and we loved the Goddman wars
WWI, II, Korea, Nam, Nicaragua, Iraq
cause we were fighting for something
something real
what the hell
what has this country
come to
II
Ha. He thinks he’s really funny. Strong.
I’m Jennifer. I know him. He hasn’t been laid in
years, and most of the times were with foreign
women. What does it mean when you have to pay
for sex? It means you’re not a man, and he knows
it.
He doesn’t usually let me come out. But, you
see, I’m really stronger than him. Oh, and that
kills him, a woman being stronger than him.
But, you see, he never lets himself be loved.
He tries to hide himself in his stupid war
talk.
But I come out every once in a while, put on
my little red dress, put on the lipstick. Mmm, you
know, lipstick feels so good gliding across your
lips.
III
I shanked a nigger faggot
when i was in the clink
the faggot tried to rape me
but he didn’t know who he was dealing with
I’m a man, Goddamnit
I’ve robbed stores
I’ve killed men
I’ve had women
and there’s always an enemy
and I can beat ‘em all
once
when I was in grade school
a kid called me a pansy
and I beat him so hard
they had to take him
to the hospital
nobody messes with
jimbo breen
IV
I know I’m better looking than all those Hustler
magazines he keeps.
He keeps these old magazines, you see, old
car and drivers, old soldier of fortunes
old hustlers.
Some of ‘em gotta be ten years old.
Usually when I take over I just look through
those sex mags and laugh. They don’t know
what they’re doing. I could make a man happy.
I could give it to him any way he wanted it.
God, I want a man inside of me, in my mouth, in
me now.
I could even climb the corporate ladder, if that’s
what would turn them on, if only I could overpower
that bastard’s mind. I could be fucking every man
I saw.
I could walk out on the streets and be whoever I
wanted. God, I could be something.
V
women are such bitches
they can’t be trusted
VI
Who is he hiding from? Let me come out.
VII
this is a good country
nobody’s got no
Gaddamn pride anymore
and I’m sick of
all the faggot yuppies
these Goddamn cowards
corporate cogs
they don’t stand up
for what they believe in
and people
don’t fear the Lord
anymore
know who they should
look up to
I have a picture of Ollie North
it’s an eight-by-ten
it’s framed in my kitchen
VIII
I wish he’d clean this place up. I’m not going to
do it. What, does he think I’m gonna cook for him
too?
Why doesn’t he get a job, one that lasts for more
than four months, one that’s not in a liquor store
so he can get drunk every chance he gets.
Thank God
he doesn’t have the guns anymore. He used to
have a ton of ‘em, keep them hidden in every
corner of this one-bedroom hole above some
old bag’s garage. If the guns were still here, I’d kill
him.
No, I couldn’t, I’d be killing myself then. He’s all
I got. I just wanna get out, I wanna live, I wanna
stop hiding.
I want him to take down his guard for just one minute,
that guard of his that is still stronger than his
sargeant’s from Korea. Damnit.
I wish his mind would just rest, so I could take it over
again, but it seems to always be there, on the
defensive, darting around, looking for ways to protect
himself.
IX
there’s a war
behind every corner
you’re gotta learn
to fight
people don’t know
who to trust anymore
what to
believe in
but I do
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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.
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Scars Publications and Design
http://scars.tv
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through
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pieces. No material may be reprinted without express permission.