Her I - FILEFOTO

The Dick Pig Review III

"You Are Sick We Now Make You Better."

Or:

"We Age Well You Make Us Age Better."

At Nancy’s house, before the party boys
arrive, Rachel removes her pants, her dance
encouraging burlesque. The parents now
gone, Marlene quips, “Well look at this rape squad,”
as boys pour in. Eugene produced the beer;
the thought of excess makes it disappear
as falling down becomes the art and aim.
Until they sleep, the lights are on. They sleep…
and then unlighted rooms come creeping red.
Jackie stayed in place, breathing erratically,
but favored girls have waited motionless
in sticky pools. The sums of parts are not
making wholes. The Johnson’s dog is barking—
forced unquiet in the assured silence.

                              Mark Krug

Oh it was disgusting,
sixteen and a sweet heard
of them. And they late twenties
forgot how to close
their mouths, misplaced
a way to soften their
cocks. Shimmer hair on
bare shoulders, the faces
fresh. Chances
are, several virginities in
the room need
capture, in addition
to several cock-
tails-- quite intoxicating.
A dance we all know,
will know,
have known,
have possibly danced.
Pull out
your arrow pull
back your bow.

                              Pussy Marmalade

Last night I made love to a beautiful woman.
I couldn't keep it up so she vomited in my face as payback.
Then as I told her my secrets, her face grew dark because she couldn't give a shit.
She said, "I've read your blog. It's no secret. The only secret was how small your penis is."
That was all it took. I came in her face and told her, turning away, where the towels are kept.

                              Princess Nickelslot

A Beached Whale Is Never a Pleasant Thing

1.

My right arm
bruised from where your thumb
pressed when you were doing me.
Your voice
repeatedly pleading I’m
fucking sexy.
I come
to believe you.
I listen for
choirs walking
by on the street
long enough
to find someone
to bowl with.
Heavens,
It’s only noon.
Every night since,
my left hand pretends to be
your heart.

2.

Nothing so boring
as happiness
or describing it.
Pour salt on my
mouth to get
me back.
Few are blank enough
to open my door.
Few are bound
to either. Neither were
romanced long
enough to say
it went beyond sexing.
It went beyond sexing.

3. Blubber and heaving

Spring Break ’01, Paris
While waiting on room service
a ricocheted bullet
kills a woman on the balcony.
I got this bullet-hole–sized
bruise on my arm.
Study it for signs of elevator legs,
Vacation, health, and sex eating.
Between my toes are some sad secrets can you taste them.

Spring Break ’98, Dominican Republic
A whale threw herself onto the beach—
she heard whales walked on land
before all this evolution.
She just wanted to go back.
Think we all want to go back. If we’re
strong, we don’t. If we’re weak, we don’t.
There’s more to me than just my blubber and heaving.

                              Princess Nickelslot

Lost Ape by Manager Romano

Pen on Paper, 12" x 9"
2006

A flat bug crawls across the mattress
and the floor. You know that bug
isn’t from filth. He looks like the kind
who burrows in your ear.

Where did you come from?
you ask with your face
to the ground, softly:
Where’d you come from

Bug? Where. Where.

Because the windows are closed. For god’s sake
we should open one. It’s awful in here.

We close our eyes on good faith.
Last I saw him that bug was going somewhere
not near the pillow.

My ear dams up the blood
at your elbow.
Your arm makes electricity sounds.

Your congestion is like a dog
gritting to get out, like a man
snoring in his bed, like a song:

variations on a theme
of do re mi
and do re do.

                              Velvet Van Dix

Brat gets beaten. On the fast boat. ON THE HANDS OF A PLEDGE. Midnight slips out of its dust-jacket. My chicken is done. Who got flushed from the wood? Whose cheeks are red? Brat gets up on own two feet. Who’s the big boy now? Memories are all I have of the good times, but you’re still in my face every day. Wheelchair for brat. Cast aside on stairs. Oh what a beautiful morning. Weather like a nice jacket. Didn’t I see your window last year, the county fair? Fried onion sautéed. No argument here. Abuse is straight-forward. Name a pal of mine with an oar. Let’s open this hospital up! Jumping! Ridiculous! Have a drink! Calm out there in the crowd, weapons like ice standing together in rows. I gambled for one reason. Oklahoma is great today. Everybody’s there. Here’s your pet. Handle yourself around my family. Regrettably, I do know a few things. If the running back was only doing his job. Running back hung out to dry. Anyone else for dessert?

                              "Checkers" McFly

I follow storm imagery with circuits
bought and paid for, hours apart,
spreading green clouds
and satellite imagery,

mix hashish into my tobacco
and wait, patience an expensive toxin
within my blood,

high pressure within cracking
bone, fluids released, deranging.
I await the low pressure system,

the energy of migraine energy.
I ride Yoshi through the ruined
castle, urging him to sup on monster

vines and armored vermin. We stand against
Koopa, callous monarch with teeth
like children’s chalk, set forward in a malevolent
grin. Patience, the storm is coming.

Koopa charges. Yoshi leaps.
From on high we watch as Koopa pivots,
searching in vain for us, his able foes.

When we descend we fall into an uncontrollable
spin, red shoes and moustaches a swirl of color
and impassioned angst. Dost thou recognize

the gravity of the situation? I and mine
collapse upon this ruined lizard, squeezing puffs
of smoke out of his nostrils. This is the end,

of our elaborate plans, the end,
of everything that stands, the end,
no safety or surprise, the end.
I’ll never look into your eyes again.

                              Baal Windjammer

The Scream by Edward Monk

FILEFOTO

Not With Mine Cousin (continued from above)

[Meanwhile]

In the Kitchen
Carl: Let us try out but one of the many functions of this fine intercom system.
Bill: This will doubtless fail to amuse—nonetheless, get on with it, that it might be the sooner done.
Intercom: I shall give myself to Derek.
Carl and Bill: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Carl: I have been confronted with the sexual capability of my younger sibling; yet I am not ready to consider her thus grown.
Bill: Though she is but mine cousin, I feel as ye do. Perhaps we can foil her plans with Derek.
Carl: We must impress upon him some vague but ominous threat such that he will lose the urge to deflower her.
Bill: I shall employ certain tactics I learned and often used in the distant past, when I was a young roustabout.
Carl: Life with my family has rather civilized you, has it not?
Bill: Not so civil I can’t whup you right now, boy.
Carl: Alas, I am too small and frail to speak faster than I think. Please forgive my insults.
Bill: Ye lack social skills, yet are possessed of my pity. All is forgiven.

In the Living Room, that Evening
Derek: I have arrived to see my beloved, the honorable and delectable Ashley.
Ashley: I am here, o honorable and chocolatey Derek, and I have longed this long afternoon but for to see you.
Bill and Carl: Now is the hour of our action—may our tongues be swift and our methods subtle, that we may achieve our ends without alerting the young would-be lovers that we have meddled in their affairs.

[Hilarity Ensues]

Ashley: Your hidden designs have become apparent to me.
Bill: Are mine reasons not just?
Ashley: Thine heart is pure, but thy methods cause more problems than they solve. O cousin, our familial love shall always be—concern thyself not with how and where I make vulgar use of this God-given body and its utilitarian points of entry.
Derek: My love for Ashley is pure, and I am pure, and should she and I step into the fire of impurity it shall be together and therefore beautiful—differently pure, if you will.
Carl: It is true that I am not a church-going man. Yet I am still dissatisfied, uncomfortable.
Bill: Carl, thine lack of sexual experience has led thee to a fear of the act—I cannot believe I let thine histrionics overtake me.
Carl: My life is short, as is mine stature. Alas.
Bill: Ashley, your maidenhead is freed; we shall try to lock it up no longer—do with it as thou will. Come, Carl, let us take our leave.

[exit Bill and Carl]

Derek: Is this the hour of our carnal satisfaction?
Ashley: After all that has happened, even considering the graces given by mine honorable and reluctant family, I suddenly feel the desire to retain my virginity a while longer.
Derek: In defiance of prevailing stereotypes about adolescent men, I support thine decision and shall continue to love thee, albeit from afar—my ship leaves on the morrow. May thine unbroken vaginal membrane serve thee well, as good as or better than the memory of love would have.
Ashley: Alas! I shall likely think of ye when it is shattered, by some other man whom I shall doubtless love less than thee.
Derek: O coldest comfort! O fortune most wicked!

[Bill and Carl return with Hilda]

Hilda: What a strange day this has been.
Ashley: Indeed. Cousin Bill, could ye perhaps favor us with a song?
Bill: ‘Tis a fine a way as any to bring such events as these to a close.

[sings]

In West Philadelphia, born and raised
On the playground is where I spent
Most of my days—

A Letter From Our Editor Regarding Our Event:

Dear Sir or Madame,
We thank you in advance for attending the Poetry/Burlesque Event of the Year.

Our readers are:
Baal Windjammer
Pussy Marmalade
Princess Nickelslot
Velvet Van Dix
and DAVID LEHMAN

Dances by:
The Famous MISS HARVEST MOON

Information:
Sunday, April 9th
Galapagos Art Space
70 North 6th Street
btwn Kent and Wythe
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
(right off the 'L')

There is a $5 Attendance Fee.

For more information about our review, or our sponsors, RC Magazine, please visit our websites.

DICKPIG
REDCHINA

So save your energy and don't get too crunked on Saturday. Instead, get crunked with us. Hey, it is Easter Sunday. You should come support these celebrity poets. Drinks will be had, as will musics. Poster follows.
Sincerely,
Yours,
DeJaniels Hudson
Editor, The New Yorker

OUR AFFILIATE:

Red China Magazine

OUR ARCHIVES:

Issue One
Issue Two

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thegallantpig AT dickpigreview DOT com

A NOTE ON OUR FILEFOTOS:

Our FILEFOTOS are produced by mixing two techniques: "Celebrophilia" and "Adobephilia." The medium is Photoshop on Hard Drive, and the size is any size you want.

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The LES, The GPT, The GOWANUS, CHINATOWN, BILLYBURG

YOU WILL FIND US AT:

UNIQLO, THE MERCURY LOUNGE, PIANO'S, ROYAL OAK, AND CEDAR TAVERN (now that it is closed).