Archive for May, 2011


Bite, chew, spit, how hard could it be? I mean really, what the fuck are your options right now? The bone is already broken. That would’ve been the hardest part. Just open your mouth sink your teeth in and tear the meat away.

It’s definitely easy to tell yourself this. But Jesus fucking Christ actually manning up and doing it is another story. (more…)

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photo by Melvin Cartagena

Answers Without Questions

By Mel Cartagena

To: benwayd@hinterlands.org

Cc:

Subject: Answers without questions

Doc:

Don’t hear from you anymore ever since you got transferred to forensic pathology. Either the work is so easy you don’t want to share the gravy train with me, or you’re too busy to send me a social email.

Either way, that’s what I’m writing to you about. In doing some spring cleaning over here I came across this document. It looks like one of your former cases.

The content looks like the answers to a Q & A session that never took place, about things that never happened, except for the part about the fatal beating of William Rhodell.

It was among the notes of your one of your most famous cases, the one that almost killed his girlfriend, and beat to death that private investigator she hired to find him, who it turns out she was having an affair with. The things people do. I bring it to your attention because it’s interesting to see how he’s created a saga of paranoia and mind control over a case of marital infidelity. And it looks like you figure prominently in these fantasies.    (more…)


Owl eyes see much

so much that much of it isn’t there

except when it is- laughing;

wise isn’t always

Arms stretch tear snap

from sockets tired of working

bearing weight of heart

soul pumping reps of gray

A tug of gut-war

pits honest reflection

(read: catch-22 

paranoia its counterpoise

            (silicon its crime partner

All above a net of tangled web

of stagnant gray matter

as branch & vine hijack swamp

Twisted shadows bounce

off dancing shallows

never staying long enough

for even deft hands

to reach for a proper handshake

Instead they bound leap swirl

but don’t stop for long

protecting the secret that is mine

Even from me

one turbulent jetty

removed from myself

Like a load of laundry

hot out of the dryer

clean but for the

stains chaining

you to their

trespass

If only whites and colors

separated themselves to reveal

apparitions in clarity for their disposal

rather than linger like images seated in your lap

while departing the haunted house searching for levity

found amid a bunch of country bears playing banjos somewhere

never to be discovered as anvils of age forge ahead in bellows of smoke