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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
without you (1/6/94), by Janet Kuypers
i look out at the evening sky
trees laced with snow
on the delicate branches
glistening in the whiteness
the darkened sky the powdered streets
the trees aren’t as beautiful anymore
JUST DESSERTS, by cheryl townsend
All my life
I have always gotten
everything that I wanted
Now
all I want
is forgiveness
for what I had
The Pigeon and Me, by John Hayes
Pecking, probing the ground
and needing to vent
the pigeon struts free
somewhat like me
I peck
I probe
and though I’d never vent
I too am free.
c ra, camille cross
from Lion/Wolf
spear and vinegar
Frog bones
not fossils, mind you
or maybe but harder than teeth
hard bones cut from living
flesh
slice as the jaws of asses my
blood slices yet
left soaking in simple
vinegar overnight
This weapon, these
weapons bend.
Shiftin’ gears,
to tear up one’s guts
with a sharp-edged weapon,
(as they call it in
Serial Killer School)
Will destroy you
Rip you
And I don’t give a damn
if you bend
or
break.
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
plush horse stories
ice cream parlor,
candy shop, bakery, 1986-1990
work stories
please drive through, by Janet Kuypers
john once asked
a pair of construction workers
for their drivers licenses
when they ordered
scoops of
run raisin.
they actually gave them
to john
he said,
thank you,
please drive through
a star goes shopping, by douglas spangle
Mouth set unmoving
as on a mask, she shops
for flashy clothes. There
as usual is a photographer
she obviously ignores,
for I see her pictures here,
grim as Medea, eyes
like gone in the distance.
There’s nothing I see that’s not stylish,
nothing in her that’s with joy.
How will the years leave her?
She seems unhappy. Does she know?
Her eyes, avoiding the camera,
stare into a far nowhere
as she absently holds a loaf of bread.
My telling this does her nothing;
While I’ll do what I’ll do,
she’ll live here in the scandal sheet
that lives on her reputation,
but her eyes,
deep fron scescents of shadow,
look back for something she’s lost.
village, by john sweet
so you come into this village
and there’s nothing but old women
begging for mercy
and babies screaming in the dirt
and you have your orders
and shoot everyone not in uniform
and maybe crush some skulls
under your bootheels
for the hell of it
then burn everything to the ground
because these are your orders too
maybe you have nightmares about this
years later
or maybe not
maybe you beat your wife
or maybe you bring her flowers
every morning
maybe you strangle children
and rape nuns
and bury their bodies
in the soft soil by the river
maybe you realize
that none of this matters
because history has a way
of smothering everything
eventually
and maybe a million years pass by
before you even realize
you’re alive
Family Values, by John Hayes
When she was six into her home
she brought a word which she had heard
and naively asked,
“What’s it mean?”
He slapped her face
she staggered back
stunned eyes grew wide.
And then he said, “Get your ass to church”.
“What’s a condom?” she asked at twelve.
He said, “You’re much too young to know.”
Then sent her off to church.
At fifteen she was pregnant,
he sent her to a home.
At seventeen she robbed a store,
needed money for a fix.
He never knew why she went bad.
She always went to church.
MY NIGHTS, by cheryl townsend
of bending and lifting
jumping and stretching
are not enough anymore
to stop my skin from
losing its grip on my
bones or beat the gravitated
pull of what was once so
alert to roving eyes I am
now prone to mauve over
the animal patterened allure
and look to memories for
inspiration to relate
plush horse stories
ice cream parlor,
candy shop, bakery, 1986-1990
work stories
sparkle, by Janet Kuypers
so pete came into the shop one night, he worked
there, but he had the night off, and he comes in
saying he’s really drunk and can he sleep on the
couch in the manager’s office in the back for a
little bit and sleep it off before he goes back to his
parent’s house? and marty, the manager, says
sure, and so pete goes to the back and before
you know it he’s out like a light. but john was
working that night, and pete and john were good
friends, so john wanted to get him, so he got a
bottle of sparkle glass cleaner, the only glass cleaner
that’s purple, and he started spraying it on pete’s
crotch. pete didn’t wake up, and after a few minutes
of john pressing his luck pete’s blue jeans were
soaked with sparkle. we were buckling over,
laughing so hard. pete finally woke up, mad but
too drunk to do anything about it. he had an
extra pair of pants in the car.
poem for a sunday morning, by joseph verilli
Your words
Linger
Like scar tissue
Among healthier cells
I wonder
How you justify
Your human politics
You would seem
To want to trivialize
My dreams
And my life
Your gain
Is a smirk
At my pain
And yes
It hurts
You spoke
Of rote cruelty
Inherent
In these city streets
But you carry
Your mean streak
As if a red badge
But not one of courage
You keep me
In a convenient corner
But what
Are corners worth
In the realm
Of passing time
And untouched artifacts
Oh, Daddy, by jerry wlaraven
“Would you like to meet your daughter?”
Crossing the Street, by j speer
a car speeds towards us
“i wasn’t born yesterday”, i say
death, by Janet Kuypers
when he was a child, a little boy, he
From where she came
what are you so fucking mad about?, by c ra mcguirt
well,
THE WRONG EYES, by jerry walraven
Thinking of words written
SIMPLY, by cheryl townsend
There are so many poems
plush horse stories
under his jeans, by Janet Kuypers
pete was trying to figure out
Debra Purdy Kong, writer, British Columbia, Canada
Children, Churches and Daddies.
what is veganism?
why veganism?
so what is vegan action?
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
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
MIT Vegetarian Support Group (VSG)
functions:
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.
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.
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.
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
Mark Blickley, writer
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.
The Center for Renewable Energy and Sustainable Technology
Dorrance Publishing Co., Pittsburgh, PA
want a review like this? contact scars about getting your own book published.
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
I looked up from my lunch. “Excuse me,” I said.
“Your daughter. She’s over there.” She pointed in a
non-specific direction. “I thought, since you were in the
same room with her you might want to actually meet her.”
I looked across the table at my fiance’ trying to
gauge her reaction. Nothing. That meant trouble. Big
trouble.
“Look, I’m sorry miss but I’ve never seen you before
in my life.” Why did that sound like a lie? I was tell-
ing the truth damnit. “I’m sure you have me confused with
someone else.”
girlfriend?”
“My Fiance’,” I said. Why was I talking to her.
Jane laughed. “That’s what I named our daughter.
Isn’t that funny? Michele, don’t you think that’s funny?”
Trouble, I thought. Oh, my God was I in trouble.
“Steven?”
“Yes, Michele?”
“Why don’t you go meet your daughter?” She stood up.
“You can tell me all about it later.” And she left.
“Damn.”
“Steven?”
“What?”
“I didn’t think your name would be Steven.”
I looked at her. She smiled.
I shook my head. “It’s not. That’s just what she
calls me when she’s mad. It’s a long dumb story. My name
is Zeke.”
“Much better.”
“So tell me Jane, do you really have a daughter named
Michele?”
She shrugged. “Melanie. My daughters’ name is
Melanie.”
“Can I meet her?”
“You bet.”
lights ahead of revving engine
mother grabs my hand
warns me of on-coming danger
i resent her protectiveness
pull my hand away, say:
i’ve walked after dark in central park
hitch hiked to santa monica beach and north to
edmonton with 20¢ in my pocket
slept under bridges on interstate 40 while
trucks rumbled all night
was attacked by five drunk rowdies on way to santa fe
smoked the same havana cigar for three days while reading shakespeare
wrote a letter to father on the sunday his head went down
got drunk on bourbon street with marty magraw in nouveau jeans
the car zooms by
“you will always be my boy”, she says
would walk through the living room
over and over again
he would see the book on the shelf
a science book, a volume
from a set: a book about
how the world works
once he looked though the pages
found a drawing about the life
of planet earth, how it was
formed, how eventually the
temperature would rise, all life
on earth would eventually die
and reading that it was
millions of years away didn’t help
with the fear, the instant panic:
so he took the book, hid the
one volume from the rest,
so he wouldn’t have to see it
when he walked through his
own living room
one lost moment, by joseph verilli
I just cannot say,
From what heavenly dream
Exiled to reality,
Materializing
From the hallucination
Of thought dreams,
But there she was,
Crossing my line of vision
In the crowded supermarket
Among the impatient shouts
Of single-minded shoppers,
Screeching babies pummeled
With maternal hand-slaps
And the ever-present blips
Of computerized cash registers,
Yes, there she was,
Angel in the flesh
(Reminding me of another),
Dressed casually,
As seemingly as “meek as a lamb”
And whose face as wholesome
as that of a 13 year-old girl,
The black t-shirt, loose-fitting jeans
And groundworn beach thongs
Seemingly meant for her
And her alone,
Offering me a sad smile,
Yes, sad and resigned,
As melancholy
As wildflowers exiled
To rapt imprisionment,
Suddenly turning away
To leave with hear bearded companion,
Bearer of sweetness and longing
For one lost moment.
they cut off the end
of my dick
when I was born,
and ever since,
they’ve been after
the rest
While Princes sleep
Wondering, aloud now,
Never silent again
Waking visions never written
Always remembered, though
Memories color in what
Was real to make it
Easier to see,
even if seen wrong,
Through someone else’s eyes.
in the drawers of my life
Strewn socks - severely worn
Darned & damned
and rarely matched
become rags
that erase the dut
from the surface
ice cream parlor,
candy shop, bakery, 1986-1990
work stories
how to trick matt;
they were always trying
to trick each other
and so pete had the perfect plan.
he said he was telling everyone
this, the plan was to give matt
an undy grundy by the end
of the night, to yank his
underwear up out of his
pants, but the intricacy to
his plan was that he was telling
matt that they were going to do it
to vince. well, everyone knew
that we were supposed to
act like we were going to get
vince, vine knew to act like
he didn’t know, and so the
end of the night came and
we were all in the back office
and matt and pete started to
walk cautiously toward vince,
and then vince and pete and
john and the rest of them
turned around all at once
and went after matt. matt made
it out of the back office and
into the blue room, but that’s
where they tackled him and
got a hold of his jockeys. the
next thing you know the elastic
band on top of matt’s under
wear is half ripped off, and
he’s tucking it back under
his jeans. we were all laughing
so hard. then i said to molly,
well, i’m wearing a miniskirt,
and it doesn’t feel too safe
around here. i’m gonna go.
and i got my stuff and left.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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510/704-4444
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.
* 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
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.
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 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.
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
“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.
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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plus assorted chapbooks and books
music, poery compact discs
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past editions:
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Prose Chapbook Contest, Prose Book Contest
Poetry Calendar Contest
current editions:
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Collection Volumes
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.