volume two summer 2011

artichoke haircut

Artichoke Haircut

editorsjustin sanderssaralyn lyonsjonathan gavazziadam shutzmelissa streat

layout & cover designadam shutz

cover art“chiefs of operation” by justin marc lloyd

Artichoke Haircut is published biyearly by the people listed above. This is our second issue and we still don’t know what goes here, so all the info that’s usually in this space we haven’t come up with yet or we have no idea what it means. We’re still poor and still can’t afford lawyers. But we’ve seen this phrase a lot so we’ll put it here: All rights reserved. Copyright © 2011. And oh yeah, watch out for our reading series, “You’re Allowed,” at Dionysus Lounge, Baltimore. Happy reading and postulating.

www.artichokehaircut.com

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artichoke haircut v o l u m e t w o

annemarie ní churreaín

gale acuff

mary elizabeth mays

eleanor levine

julianna dzierwa

mary harpin

louis bourgeois

Safe Housepoet r y

Crush

Playing with Children

poet r y

poe t r y

MĂmĂligĂ; Pallidotomy

Middlesex Center

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In which a Scientist Rummages Around in the Body for the Soul; Self Portrait in the Town where I was Born

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f i c t i on

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8

11

17

20

25

28

33Death at the End of the Road

libby rasmussenpoet r y

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anthony nannetti

william doreski

paul kavanagh

ron riekki

justin marc lloyd

joel allegretti

matthew falk

Writing

Waterlog

At the Mournful Resort

poet r y

poet r y

Roadf i c t i on

Noble Trails; Shambles; Everything is a Tide

BÉla Lugosi, Junkie of the Night

ErinnÝes (Noblesse Oblige)

photography

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poe t r y

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43

46

49

51

58

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maureen foley Hazepoet r y

39

Orion: the Hunter

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melanie browne

buck downs

erik pecukonis

sid gold

julius kalamarz

michael goddard

timmy reed

27 Stills

The Color of Your Aura after a 72 Hour Speed Binge

Broke into Song; Driver Update

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Getting Drunkpoet r y

Folksy Atrocious

Store in a Cool, Dry Place

The Maids Make Me Uncomfortable (in High Grade Silk)

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f i c t i on

f i c t ion

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69

72

76

82

85

90

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kyle hemmings from Tales of the Northern Plainsf i c t i on

61

r.j. ingram Gepetto the Illusionist; Queequeg the Seerpoet r y

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cait dudley

howie good

Tautology

Choreography

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11poet r y

Gale Acuff teaches university-level English in China; he has also taught in the US and the Palestinian West Bank. He has played guitar, rather badly, in all three countries.

gale acuff

Crush

I hate how she makes me feel, Miss Hooker,my Sunday School teacher, when I see herin class, her red hair and green eyes and shoeswith the open toes and her ten littlepiggies and all of them colorful, oneSunday blue and the next week pink and the nextno color at all, just natural butstill radiant. Mother doesn’t like her—her skirts are too short, she says, but Fatherlikes her fine and smiles whenever Mothercriticizes her, which she does each timeI bring Miss Hooker up, say at supperon Saturday night when I know I’ll seeher again in the morning and can’t wait,or barely. I don’t think her pearls are real,Mother says when I describe them to her

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during dessert, apple pie and ice cream,a la mode, or maybe that’s the same thing,I can hardly speak the Bible’s language.Father’s fast to defend her, Miss HookerI mean. He says that that’s called chivalrybut Mother says it’s inappropriatewhatever else it is. Father grins andwinks at me as Mother reddens and looksdown at her lap as if she’s spilled somethingand brushes it with the back of her handbut I think she hopes Miss Hooker’s down there.Maybe that’s a kind of slap in the face.In a fair fight I think that Mother couldtake her but I’d hate to have to choose sidesbecause I love them both equally, justin a different way that’s still love butI guess that’s why Jesus died for folks’ sins, to sort things out but I’m still confusedso I guess I’m too young, only 10, tomake much sense out of the world, which is allgrown-ups anyway and the screwy things

they do. Father says that Miss Hooker willmake some young man very happy one dayand Mother laughs, but not loudly and notbecause she’s happy, and says she thinks thatMiss Hooker’s already made many menhappy and I say, well, I’m not happyyet, and Father laughs and says, well, give ita few days, boy, and Mother says, eat yourdessert but she’s talking to us both. Ifinish mine and ask to be excused, andgo to my attic bedroom and wait for darkness because that’s when I like to prayand when I think God’s likely to listenbecause He’s probably busier daysand tomorrow, of course, He’ll rest, and mightbe off His feet in Heaven right nowand readier to let me whisper inHis ear the Lord’s Prayer, which He must besick of, bless His heart, and everything elsepeople throw up there to Him. [...]

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20poet r y

Eleanor once interviewed John Kennedy, Jr. via telephone when the young Kennedy was at Brown University. She also spoke with Abbie Hoffman after he came out of hiding. Eleanor heard, several years later, she had an FBI file.

eleanor levine

Pallidotomy A destructive operation on the globus pallidus, done to relieve involuntary movements or muscular rigidity. -Stedman’s Dictionary

she assuages madness by cultivatinglyricism on the page

a double dose of aphrodisiacs and she wanders in her robeeating cerealwatching TV

thereafter

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blood sweepslike an ocean

remnants of an oldlady fill the roombenign thoughts like popcorn

46f i c t i on

Paul Kavanagh’s novel, The Killing of a Bank Manager is published by Honest Publishing.

paul kavanagh

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Road

The village fathers wanted the village to grow into a town and then a city and so they built a road. The road was one lane. It was a road easily missed and those who came upon the road quickly turned off the road. The road was a failure and so the vil-lage fathers hired an old army captain to make the road into a highway. Captain Caomhánach was as industri-ous as they come, big-shouldered, spades for hands, legs made out of concrete. He refused to remove his tweed jacket even when the thing was moldy and soggy. He refused to shave off his mustache even though birds

started nesting in it. He worked night and day. The village fathers said that Captain Caomhánach was a hero. They wanted expensive shops, fancy restaurants, a great football team. They wanted illuminated bou-levards. They wanted skyscrapers and they saw that Captain Caomhánach was doing everything in his power to bring them the things they desired. Captain Caomhánach worked night and day removing hill tops, trees, people, lay-ing down the asphalt. He knew words that were filthy and dirty. He showed the village fathers how to brew strong drink and he showed the old ladies how to roll fine cigars.

He gave the children of the village sharp knives. The death rate in the village rose. He handed out axes and the men of the village cut down all the trees. To the King of the village he gave a gun and the King of the village cleared the jungle of all the wildlife. He introduced new ways of making love. The women of the village no longer produced babies. The village fathers said that all the men of the village should grow a mustache, believing that Captain Caomhánach’s power came from his mustache. Father grew a mus-tache. He was not good with his hands. The mustache was lopsided, it looked silly. The village fathers stuck up pictures of Queen Victoria, the woman Captain Caomhánach loved most, and said that all the mothers of the village should dress in the style of Queen Victoria. The village fathers banned jeans, sneakers, T-shirts. All newborn babies had to have their hair long and be dressed in girl’s clothing. Boys had to wear caps and shorts. Girls were told never to be seen without a smile. Captain Caomhánach finished the highway and left the village. Everybody was

sad to see him leave. He said he had work in Thailand. With the new highway came cars, and then buses and then trucks. The cars got faster, the buses were overloaded, so new buses were needed, and the trucks got bigger. As strangers filled up the village my family dwindled. Uncle Tommy was hit by a speeding car and Uncle Bobby was hit by a speeding car and Auntie Mary was hit by a speeding car and Auntie Jean was hit by a speeding car and Uncle Jimmy was hit by a packed bus and Auntie Kitty was hit by a speeding truck and Uncle Mickey was hit by a speeding car and Auntie Lucy was hit by a speeding car and Cousin Mary was hit by a speeding car and Cousin Jessica was hit by a speeding car and Cousin Philip was hit by a packed bus and Cousin Kate was hit by a speeding truck.

51photography

Justin’s philosophy is simple, he points and shoots when he sees something that moves or intrigues him. You can see more of his work at shiftandsignal.blogspot.com

justin marc lloyd

99poet r y

Howie Good, a journalism professor at SUNY New Paltz, is the author of the full-length poetry collections Lovesick (Press Americana, 2009), Heart With a Dirty Windshield (Be-Write Books, 2010), and Everything Reminds Me of Me (Desperanto, 2011).

howie good

Choreography

The doglicks itself

an extraordinaryuntranslatable

pink

Any movementcan be part

of the dance

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othe r s tu f f :

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