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Download this writing in the free chapbook “Rap Sheet” the 6/19/15 chapbook with Janet Kuypers original poetry written for a live show |
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All of the poems in “Rap Sheet” (many expanded), plus the bonus poem “Evaluation”, are in “Rap Sheet” expanded edition |
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Order this writing in the book Salvation (issues / chapbooks edition) - the cc&d Jan. - June 2015 collection book |
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get the 410 page Jan. - June 2015 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:  
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Order this writing in the Janet Kuypers poetry book: a year long Journey Order this 6" x 9" ISBN# book today of writing from performance art shows from June 2014 through June 2014
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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108-page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/paperback book “The Cosmos is a Lonely Place” cc&d, v341, the 1/24 issue Order the 6"x9" paperback book: 
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Order this writing in the book In the Moment the cc&d January - April 2024 magazine issues collection book |
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get the 426-page January - April 2024 cc&d magazine 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:
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Janet Kuypers 5/5/15 As a part of my bargaining before sentencing, I have to go through “group evaluation” sessions for hours, for days. There’s like a dozen of us in here waiting to start, and we all just sit here and shut up and look around and wait. The wall’s rooms are painted blue. Kind of like an institutional blue... But I don’t even know what an institutional blue looks like. The walls make me think of Pepto-Bismol, but that’s pink. These walls are bright, but deep. It’s like they’re a Pepto-Bismol blue. The carpet’s varying shades of brown, but alternating, ‘cuz they’re separate squares. Like they chose this brown and threw squares down. There’s a black plastic spatula on the bottom shelf of the 7' tall rolling tv cart, but they’re no kitchen. Nothing can be made here. On one wall, there’s a motivational poster for Opportunity. It says, “If opportunity doesn’t knock, build a wall.” I’m building my walls, I’ll scoop out the mortar, slather that grout so thick that no one can move the bricks or hear me scream. Like this place is gonna do me an ounce of good. I know I played my cards right and was nice to the cops, but that one cop — the one who’s bald on top of his head and has this completely hideous ring of hair circling his head like ear warmers — I’d like to take a stainless steel spade and bash his fucking head in, but once he fell to the ground, I’d take an ice pick and pop each one of his tiny little beady ugly eyes, then spear his tongue with that ice pick so he could taste his eye juice. Then I’d get the solid steel mallet and split that monk head open, and since his brain won’t move I’d get one of those gardening hand forks so I could drag each little brain bit apart as his blood coagulates while I scrape and sculpt them into the shape of a middle finger, so I could say “fuck you, cop” in front of what’s left of his oozing eyes so he could see how much he’s despised, and he could see how little brain that little piece of shit has left. And the funny things is that he’s not even the guy that arrested me. Oh, but session is about to start, where they’ll ask us to tell the group about our crimes. I don’t know why, or how that will help us. But, time to start the show, turn that frown upside-down and act like you want to be here, because it’s just one more step ‘til it’s all over and you’re finally free. |
