Beach Sloth |
Email me about anything at: BeachSloths@gmail.com |
Have You Seen My Whale Issue # 1
Alt lit needs more animals. Whales are a good start. I like whales. They swim on the bottom of the ocean having food literally land in their mouths. Feel if any animal was perfect as a tortured artist, it would be the whales. It is dark all around them. People used to hunt whales centuries ago and a few weird countries still do (Norway, Iceland, and Japan). Whales are the most emo of all the giant creatures. They have the largest brains so I figure they’d probably make some particularly poignant poetry. What this collection seems to ask is ‘Have you seen my whale’ itself an absurd question due to the whale’s formidable size.
Dave Shaw is okay. I like this poem. He discusses a new phenomenon: sad fish. Sad fish want to grow legs and go on land. Then they’d spend a lot of time on the internet doing drugs. Guess all fish are between the ages of 18 to 22 because that’s all sad fish do. Wonder what happened to his hand. He’s supposed to go somewhere. It is probably a fake hand.
Austin Kieler is romantic. He chills in a car because there’s no heat. It is five in the morning. Apparently he ‘parties hard’ via the ‘living in a car’ lifestyle. One of my friends lived in a car for a while. He used to be cool before he became a conspiracy theorist. Somebody puts their hand on his thigh. Somebody likes him, like likes him. Hope Austin ‘got lucky’ via tender affection.
Amelia Gillis doesn’t care about the first Jurassic Park but has seen the third one. Some alt-looking bro stares at the computer screen. Hope they don’t spilt because of a 90s movie franchise. The couch gives us a piece of its varied history, split soup, screaming infants and all.
Justin Carter writes about his dark personal life. He hangs out in Houston. Lisa smokes crack. Crack is whack. That’s what I’ve heard. Houston is the location of all this behavior. Wonder if Justin joins gangs in Houston in order to have some really intense poetry. Can’t believe they lost screw. I underestimated Justin. He is committed to the ‘alt lit gang’ life.
Michael O’Brien writes about a wonderful escort service out of Dublin, Ireland. This Lyze changed his life. Apparently the whole poem comes from a single time this guy spent with an escort. She was a splendid kisser. Whoever wrote the review was a terrible speller. Or he could have simply been drained from a time with Lyze. Hope the two of them had fun. Glad he put his time with an escort on the internet. In Lyze’s spare time she cracks walnuts.
Chris Dankland covers teenagers in love. In other words he covers all teenagers. Teenagers are made for Emo. According to Chris trains are Emo too. They scream out in the night though no one asked them to. Trains whistle out of loneliness. Victoria wants to rid herself of sadness knotted in her stomach. Becky takes deep breaths in order to take it all in.
Bob Holzhausen rolls around in the hay. This isn’t a metaphor. He got hives from such behavior. At least somebody scratched them for him. Rural life can be hard. City collectors collect leaves for you. It is up to you to press them into notebooks for loved ones. Bob built wagons out of bikes. He knows how to paint a picture of furniture. Also, he can out-trade you any day of the week, horses, flies, and lemon squares. So watch out. Don’t mess with lemon squares. Lemon squares will mess you up.
Sarah Jean Alexander writes about a skanky food tray. It is skanking up the joint. Custodians are afraid of its strong skank. A cigarette is thrown out the window. One child picks it up to look cool. She later gets lung cancer. Go all out if you want the ‘cat lady’ life. You can’t halfway that. You need to provide for your cats.
Prepare for part II of three parts. This is a three-act thing. It requires the setup, rising action, and conclusion. Actors are the writers. I am the narrator. You see them but you don’t see me.