CalArts Eye, May Edition

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THE CALARTS EYE From Girls To Blob I once knew a slippery lady. She slipped and slimmed on me. She slid and slopt off me. She made it sloppy. She made it wet. She ran and jumped on me. and shinned. and sloughed away. Her house was a cream house. She smelled like a milk boy. She ghosted me. A shut in, a lock down, a runner up, a registered offender of crime. Photo credit: Patrick Behnke Hosing My mouth has thrasher teeth. They call me dog mouth. They call me. They bite at me and I bite back. They are also dogs with twisted mouths. We lick dog and eat dog. My mouth has a dog inside of it. When I open my mouth the inside mouth dog takes a deep breath of air. I shut my mouth on the mouth dog. I win with my mouth shut. I open my mouth to breathe and bark and bite. I howl and growl at her. I open mouth kiss never. My mouth is filthy from all the licking. My mouth opens for inside out girl. My teeth chew her hard. My teeth are dog teeth. Dogs Of Church I turn her over and force her to look at a life-sized porcelain tiger. Her heart pooped and tiger grrrrd. I turn her over and force her to look at other things that are weird. She is possessed. I can’t tell if I was the demon entering her body or the priest performing her an exorcism. I turn her over and force her to look at the church. I turn her over and force her to look at the dogs barking at the church. I turn her over and force her to look unconscious. I turn her over and she eats freely off my lap. She is a lap dog. Lapping up milk and just eating. She eats dog of farm. She eats 23 year old bulldog. She eats thick butch women. Strong women; women athletes like basketball players and long distance runners. She eats women that build boats, women that race sail boats, and women that cut down wood. Women that stomp around kicking cannibal chimpanzee. She eats slow and fast and hard. She eats for pleasure. She eats police officer, deputy, dispatcher, and 911 Operator. She eats so many things. I turn her over and force her to fuck her own face. I bend her further and longer away from me. 6
7 Photo credit: Patrick Behnke JONI Funny that Joni Mitchell’s California sits in Paris, France. James walks towards me. He grabs me & he pulls me from my seat. I’m not Joni, I’m with her. A song & a poem sit side by side in a park in Paris, France. The only thing she does is sing on & on about California & what she will do. A poem won’t sit and it moves back to James in New York, who won’t let it sit. He’s reading the news and it sure looks bad. The news, it’s all here too. Joni knows it, but that’s all. She just sings. She’d kiss the sunset pig, but she’s sitting in a park in Paris, France. Meanwhile, the poem has moved on. I’m living with James Chance in New York now. Things are pretty good. I think about Joni from time to time & when I do, she’s still sitting, singing about California. She dreams about it too, I imagine. I wanna see the folks I dig. Joni, you sound too chipper to know that the news looks bad. My apologies if I sound a little droll, I can’t handle leaps as well as you do, sitting in Paris, France, all the while placing the song in California. Did it help you get there? I’m just stuck, waiting for someone to force me out of my seat. It sure looks bad. It sure does. THE CALARTS EYE
Page 1 and 2: MAY 2015 N O VOL. 5 . 4 1 IT’S SU
Page 3 and 4: Photo credit: Patrick Behnke BOOK O
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Page 9 and 10: L’été 2015 The heat permeates t
Page 11 and 12: 11 Photo credit: Gingy Q A STUDY OF
Page 13 and 14: The horrible people from the lousy
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CalArts Eye, May Edition

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