New driver for Truck in October

Many thanks to Georgios Tsangaris for guiding Truck through September. Coming up, starting tomorrow, a month on the road with Douglas Barbour. Check your fuel level before setting out, Doug, but I think Georgios filled up before parking in that Home Depot lot just down the road from you.

two things by me

at work

 

I am in the california wilderness, with snowy peaks in the distance,
walking through tunnels in the endless manzanita thickets
and watering the little cannabis plants that reach towards the sun
unaware that they are illegal.
every step i take scatters dark lizards into hiding.
the jays hop through the bushes shedding dull feathers that glow blue in the sun,
and though the locals call them ‘trash birds’, they are radiant.
the eagles overhead have no idea that they are supposed to be symbols.
last night a mother cougar screamed like a dying woman
and this morning there were paw prints as big as my palm
in the soft dirt at the edge of the gravel road. but amidst all this,
it is the sight of your perfect boobs
in a picture you sent to my cell phone
that makes me feel in awe of nature.



(the following is a guided meditation. please close your eyes and have someone read it to you while you visualize it)

"Sit with this feeling for a while"

you wake up from a winter nap. its already dark and that’s confusing. you feel like you were cheated out of some precious hours of sunlight. you decide that you might as well leave the house today because if you don’t you’ll feel like a slug that deserves a good salting or a slug that drowns in a dish of beer left in the garden. either way you don’t feel like being a gastropod so you bundle up and brave the elements. you walk down the street and feel the crunch of big salt crystals underfoot. You think that the city must have heard a storm was on the way. You either appreciate the preemptive strike against mother natures disruption of your everyday comfortable patterns, or you hate it. Which do you choose? What does that say about you? Sit with this feeling for a while.

You are caught up in this thinking and don’t realize that you are right near a fence that a crazed chow dog is about to try and bite you through. You can’t jump back quick enough to dodge its jaws. But, amazingly, the chunk of your jacket that the dog bit just slides right out of its mouth. The chow has no teeth! You think it must be an old dog. You either mock it or feel sorry for it. Which do you choose? What does that say about you? Sit with this feeling for a while.

You walk on to the 7-11 to get a big slurpee. The whole way to the store has been heavily salted, and you almost wipe out a few times like a cartoon villain running on top of a bunch of marbles. A weird greek looking dude is at the register and says hi or something, you can’t really tell cause his accent is too thick. you mix the red and the blue slurpee flavors because that is the shit. you try to make small talk with the greek but you realize he’s not greek, he just has no teeth! he says something else in what could be another language but is probably just a strange dialect of toothless english, and you don’t understand what he meant until he points to the cash register which reads: “1.85”.

you pay with your stupid credit card. you smile nervously and he gets freaked out and says something to a customer that is just coming in. you can’t wait to commiserate with someone else about toothless possibly-greek guy but shit! this new guy is toothless too. you try to say something but he looks at you like one of those bats with horrible giant noses that live in the nocturnal animal exhibit of the zoo. He echolocates at you in some mostly indecipherable semblance of gummy english and you run out onto the salty sidewalks and you look down and realize it isn’t salt its teeth! the fucking street is littered with teeth and from now on everyone you meet will probably be toothless and you bet no one got any coins from any faeries in the process and you slip and slide your way home.

once home, you either drink most of a handle of whiskey and remove your teeth one by one with a string and a doorknob, or you turn back into a slug and slide down into the ocean until a desperate fish eats your dead slime. Which do you choose? What does that say about you? Sit with this feeling for a while.


I (georgios) divide my time between new orleans, new england, and old california. I have been a camp counselor, a migrant laborer,  an extra on TV, and occasionally a writer.

Dylan Fettig

HESTWARD

just off a gutted dawn where hens tit titting
around black pylons sitting tight
if it were yours, open chests could go cold softly
wrong as swift kicks swinging off

wrongs ongoing tide high roast and sweat lines drawn
a head aloft, a phantom dip in honey
on blood, on grinning maresteeth lay a hive
swift spits shitting brawn and sooty

we’d often bet on trials of the settlers, that they’d best a rote test of chores
or brave a wry sea toasted, buttered on
a head of rotten gritting teeth and pitting her
against the crud in shapely sweet lines donned

swift kicked things often die
tongs in tow, interest in swindling raw and red, soft and mostly raw in honey
a fiddler never rests, but rather roils her ripe mess of scores
go softly on as a wrist flicks and sighs

spitting the sound that pythons in a fog make
boiled open, nestled roars
fit for a metal dog drawn with head aloft
a beast trawled

spitting blood in final beer grief
trying an oath as best one can
often bricked things often die
her croak of raw honey, grog inspired sweet lines songed

wrong insipid seep and winning, then fit found sinning a round ass
in a bed of runny egg and full of sweet chopped cloves in rind
fiddling with tongs below in tents, unfurl a ripe mess of folds
hearing the sound that fangs make in a bog

spoil a rutted lawn, hens grin in lairs, grin signaling a life
right breast under a cloak of raw honey
disinterest in titillating law and lead and cops
but mostly law and money

“those sinners better test their boasting else they might discover swiftly
how a wrist, it flicks inside, soil opens, vessels roar, a blight mess of whorls
a toast drawn in guns, shots across vast light at heads gone ruddy”
folk softly spoken as a flit of stately sheet lines flow

fording a moat as best one can
ahead of most incentive wrought in tin
right around back, see sin tryst in final sweet stop things abound
sudden fleece of treaties gong in chorus, lain in honey down




SPOOL


Dark days get sushi and a drone, the sudden getting more into more into bed, in teeth on teeth on coming from a factual place, a home without sifters. Beer in a can is a cage. Did you say did you say hey? and “Why the long sleeves?” they’ll say. So say, this can’t be everyone’s sweet leaf season. In fact, a little more like sculpture to me. “Hard to be a heroine and wholesome” was her joke oh and here he’s ill oh and oh and here in this one we’re all there hurrying around her. 

Dark days take the she said and a drone, sudden that taken more in more in the bed, in the teeth in the teeth in the origin from the real, a house, where does not exist no single model of the painter. Beer in a can is a cage. Say, did you did you say hey? “Why the long sleeves?” that’s what they’ll say. Thus you fall, this won’t be a sweet season for leaves. Actually, little more than the sculpture within. “Hardy, you’re a heroine and wholesome” it was the joke of oh and here it’s insufficient oh and oh and here in this all we press temporally around there.

The dark days take had said it to it and a drone, sudden that it takes more in more in the bed, in teeth in teeth in the origin of the real, a house, where do not exist no model of the painter. The beer in a can is a birdcage. Says did you fit to say hey? “Because the long gloves” that’s what they’ll say. Thus you fall, this cannot be your station candy of leaves. Really, little more than what the sculpture says inside. “Badly you are a heroine and integral” was the joke of oh and she is insufficient here and oh and oh and here in this everything that we pressure weather there, around.

Gloomy days assume they said it to it and the drone, not expecting which it assumes more into more in the bed, in the teeth in the teeth at the beginning of the real, a house, where there isn’t any model of a painter. Beer is the jar in the cell of the bird. Does it speak to you on order to adapt to say hey? “Because of the glove” is what they’ll say. So you fall, this cannot be your candy of the station of leaves. Actually, somewhat more than what sculpture says inwardly. “Bad to be your heroine and integral” was the joke oh and she was insufficient here oh and oh and here in this by all that we press weather there, all around. 

Saying that, to the pilot which as for a dim day that you suppose and in beginning the substance of many, the house which does not have the model of the painter you supposed in many of the bed of the tooth of the tooth, or which you have not expected. The beer is the bottle of the cell of the bird. Just a little it conveys that in order to adjust in order to say to you. They are saying something which has become so “because of the glove.” Thus, when it is your candy in place of the leaf, the time when it is not the fall. Actually some sculpture stays inside, somewhat far from many. It was a bad joke, oh where “your heroine and the whole” is, and as for her thing where we push the weather there entirely with this insufficiency oh and oh and entirely here, it was here.

Saying that to the pilot who regarding the dim that you suppose and in beginning the substance of many, the house that does not have the model of the painter you had assumed in many of the bases of the tooth of the tooth, or that you have never before seen. The beer is the bottle of the cell of the bird. As soon as a little one who transports that in order to record in order to say to you that they are saying something or becoming “because of the glove.” Therefore, when it is your candy in the place of the sheet, the time which is not the fall. Really a certain sculpture remains inside all of us, rather far from the many. Her defective joke, oh where “your heroin is all in” and regarding its thing where we push the time here entirely with this insufficiency and oh and oh and entirely here, it was here.

Saying that the dim is about you is to start the supposition, and many materials, the house does not have the painter model, you in many supposition babble base, or you before never saw the pilot. The beer is the bottle bird’s cell. When a young who does transport to record to you says that they said something or becomes “as a result of the glove.” Therefore, when it is your candy in the sheet place, it’s not autumn’s time. An affirmative sculpture is still truly in us completely inside, is very rather far from many. Her defective joke, oh “your heroin completely” and regards us to push time here completely by here this insufficient and oh and oh and the complete place its matter’s place, in here.
To say that the weak is over you, it is not, to begin the assumption and many materials the house has the painter model, you in many autumns, or you forwards never saw the pilots. The beer is the bottle bird’s cell. If boys say which transports to the recording to you that they said somewhat or become resulting from the glove. Therefore if it is your sweet in the blanket, it is not autumn’s time. A confirming sculpture is still really in us completely inward, is very rather far from the many. Their slightly defective joke, “oh your heroin completely regards us,” around time completely by here this insufficience and oh and oh and the complete place to press here its matter, place it inside here.

In order to say that the impossible is beyond you, it is in order to begin the affair, and a lot of materials the house has the model of painters, you have a lot of autumns, or to front did not see the pilot never. The beer is the cell of the bird of bottles. If the boys say who transports them in the recording, it is you that said somehow or became as a result of the glove. Consequently it is your sweet in the cover, it is not time for autumn. A sculpture of confirmation is still really in us completely to the interior, is rather far from many. Their lightly defective joke, “of your heroin considers us completely,” round per year completely from here this insufficiency and oh and the oh and the complete place in order to press it here his subject, it places him in here.

In order to say that the impossible one is beyond you, you are beginning the subject, and many materials the house has the model of painters, you have many autumns, or to never confront you did not see the pilot. The beer is the cell of the bird of bottles. If the boys say he transports who it is in the recording, you are who said somehow or he became as a result of the glove. Therefore it is his candy in the cover, he is barely hours from autumn. A sculpture of the confirmation still is really in us, totally to the interior, is something far from many. Its slightly defective joke, “of its heroin us considers around totally,” for year totally here of this shortage and oh and oh and the complete place to press it its subject here, places it inside.


Dylan lives in Brattleboro, Vermont, and will have a real bio soon.

HIllary Joan

our middle names are saints'
 
On April 24, 1907 at 2:03 a.m. the biggest
ship god’s ever seen put its nose under the waves

and sighed itself into history. A bubble rushing

up from a port-hole nostril looked like a head

coming to the surface for air but he did not
lift his face to breathe.

If you marry her, I said
you are going to stay in that town forever,

but watching him walk in sock feet across her
plush whiteness to light the candle, I guess
he knew that when he asked. She will know
I helped you pick this out, my brother says to me,
I always choose water scents.

He is all the parts of me in superlative.
We are deluxe shells and electric cheese
squeezed from foil bladders.We are broken
fireplaces in rooms of floor model chairs for
company and the background noise from TVs
in the basement, all the bedrooms and the kitchen. 

We are unstressed consonants and flat
vowels reminding the listener of nothing.
We are quiet because we don't have
anything nice to say.

The other he’s not in this one and

as long as we're being exclusive,

let’s keep her out of this too.

How about a joke instead?
A microbiologist is looking at a
cancer under a microscope and
she goes if you like this cleavage,
you should see my daughter cells.

On April 24, 1998 at 2:03 a.m. a child opens
her eyes in the darkness and runs a tiny hand

over an encyclopedia article tacked to the wall.
109 dead, drowned or frozen I recite from
memory and then slip back into that dream
where I am under the waterslide. My brother
calls to me from the side of the pool but
I cannot sit up.

We are two dead ends of the same long road, 
walking in opposite directions away
from the crack we crawled out of, the other
grows smaller, and farther, and finer.

I hope my brother does not gaze
down that road like I do, wondering
if he changed directions now,
would he spend the rest of his life just
getting back to where we started. 

 

captured smoke

 

I have reached a point in my life
where I know I never need to go to
another photography retrospective
on New York celebrities.
I already know how cool smoking looks.
Less so, somehow when corn-fed
imitators are shot in the act, mid-exhale,
on a backdrop of venetian blinds and
that is how my brothers and sisters and
I will be remembered on the internet.
But I'm in a place now where I know
real vice isn't practiced for pictures.
It is done, like most things I do, to prevent
strangers from talking to me, when I am
alone outside of buildings, unsure of
which one to enter because
no one is expecting me.

josephine anne

Josephine Anne, you’re headed toward shore but going that rate, you will never get there.
Hull heavy in your tire-coat, you are swept back into that dark channel with each rising swell. 

 
Jo, how do you float so well with all that cargo? What’s in the boxes stacked on your back?
No one would blame you if you shrugged a few off to slide more easily between the hulking
great barges clogging these national arteries. 

Josephine Anne, you are a Mississippi pebble inscribed in the capillary waves of global freighters. 
I hope those river tides will carry you across the circumference soon; that a current comes along and breaks
your aqueous chain, something carries you into open waters or even sends you back the way you came but

Jo, I hope you never find a dock. As soon as you stop there, they’ll waste no more breath about your seaworthy status, they’ll pick you right off that wet road, they’ll dry you in sun, you’re amphibious body will bake while pig-faced, land-legged children clammer up your sides, spit on your deck, shout crude maritime lines at the gulls on your mast and those birds will lift off into circles above you and laugh. Worse, when their fished out waste drops onto your back, you will remember spray and the pleasure of drift.  

Josephine Anne, you’re headed toward land but I am standing on it, dry as a fossil and I hope you never get here.  

Hillary Joan lives and works in books in New Orleans, LA. She can be reached at hillaryjoan@gmail.com

updated from the Pilot truck stop in Brooklyn Iowa.