chad-katzWhisper

American
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Better ThingsThe animals / have always been / mischievous—
16
Mar 22, 2011
Dinner with OedipusHans was outside himself. Perched on the edge of a daydream, he looked below, distantly aware of his bustling dinner table. How casually they live, Hans thought; with what feigned clarity they can connect and understand. There were his brothers and sisters; his aunts, uncles, cousins and ah—there was his father. Look at him personifying repugnance, locks of hair falling clumsily on his tattered shirt. Look at him! (Hans could yell only in silence.) Look there and see him cloyingly preparing his knife to hunt, to tear, to slice yet another hunk of meat for his own gluttony. With what excitement—what vivid, forbidden ecstasy Hans would take his father’s knife and turn the hunter into the hunted. / Somewhere in the cluttered abyss there was a sound followed by a warming light. Hans was entranced. And again, a gentle thunder followed by a thread of heat connecting for a moment earth and sky, father, family, and son. / It was goodness and caring, it was a mother’s voice. It was this graceful fluttering in the medium of time that awoke a primitive yearning in Hans, grabbed his throat and stared him lustily in the eyes. What could it be? Hans wondered aloud, what could it be that she desires, for he already knew that he had to be the one to deliver any object she longed for, to slay any beast that tormented her—it had to be him, to be Hans, to be her son.
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Mar 22, 2011
Excuse for a Guilty PleasureLet yourself stare and wonder / Move my hand to shame / Open both eyes wide to blunder
14
Mar 22, 2011
Giving Back to HopeHow infuriating, knowing / of the infinite supply of “hope” / and how it is and will continue
22
Mar 22, 2011
Knowing Older PeopleTen years from now I’ll answer all my own questions / I’ll take care with the brighter lights and sadder days / Even when there’s nothing but the abyss of empty rooms
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Mar 22, 2011
Looking DownAnd so it was done, / the smoke had blinded everyone; / the fire was long gone.
19
Mar 22, 2011
morning said cold sundaymorning said cold sunday / and all her hopeless smiles / breathing in the quiet of
32
Mar 22, 2011
PantomimeI / Fanciful and then the first notice of / suspended mouth corners,
48
Mar 22, 2011
PersephoneThere is always a song / that fits—a blanket, / it hands us—
26
Mar 22, 2011
Small TalkBustling: / The morph of bodies / of viscous crowds,
19
Mar 22, 2011
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