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Sunday, 22 April 2012

Kyle Hemmings-

In the Junkyards #13

The Junksters unleash their dogs underground. I am found crouching in interminable shafts, guilty of selling my solo horns without mark-up, slightly bereft of pompous tea ceremonial manners. I am accused of causing slow murders in four-way traffic. At scrapyard #3, the Commandant of Scar & Detail posts me by some burnt Rambler bodies, circa 1963. Three women ask him my going price. The second one says Lower! The first one says He reminds me of the first angel-faced boy who raped my fingers only. The second one says My Husband could only have sex in the backseat of stolen cars, that's why we always traveled with spare license plates. The third one says the best way to do it is by wind & shattered glass. SLAVE CYLINDER/WHEEL STUD/MOTHER/MASTER/VAS DEFERENS STRIPPED OF SPACE RINGS/ THE PURE OIL OF DESERT TURMOILS/CARJACK THIS LIFE & FUCK OFF!/ I say.

All three have orgasm on the spot.

Kyle Hemmings is the author of several chapbooks of poems: Avenue C (Scars Publications), Cat People (Scars), Fuzzy Logic (Punkin Press), and Tokyo Girls in Science Fiction (NAP). His latest ebook is Moon Down Girl from Trestle Press. He blogs at

1 comment:

  1. Super strange and interesting sub worlds in this piece, I want to see the others. It really invokes a strange witness protection program feel at the same time subverting that feel further into what seems to be a story.