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    Call it Kismet
    Call it Kismet
    Call it Kismet
    Ebook156 pages54 minutes

    Call it Kismet

    By Canon Parker and Nick Tobin

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    About this ebook

    Call it Kismet is the collaborative effort of two poets in Billings, Montana. This diverse and intricate collection of postmodern poetry illustrates the fight to find truth, love and beauty in a confused and unpredictable world.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCanon Parker
    Release dateMay 1, 2014
    ISBN9781311099419
    Call it Kismet
    Author

    Canon Parker

    Canon is a poet from Billings, Montana

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      Book preview

      Call it Kismet - Canon Parker

      Smile Into Chaos

      applejuice & takeout chinese. a thin film of ash lays its unwanted hand on my plaid chair. our hookah froze solid & cans rattle across the floor like the cockroaches scuttle when airplanes come booming over. a reflection in an empty winebottle– but it isn’t you. you were here a moment ago.

      * * *

      wind howls through the chapped lips of winter outside & you said it will be over before you know it. mom learned to knit hats for her bald head. her chihuahua would yip at potted cactuses blind like the rest of us. it yipped at me too.

      * * *

      it was tuesday maybe thursday– cold chili. i went outside to smoke but my ears froze, my lighter.

      * * *

      the house has my brother’s smirk smeared all over on the walls the floors the countertop the toilet seat the fizzing television the table & chairs & silverware (my brother who was always smarter or better looking than me & even you were in love with him once maybe you still are).

      * * *

      do you still believe in god? i still have dreams of dying.

      * * *

      green smoke drifts above the city it curls around the antennae & mandibles i can see it from my window choking on the radio towers slurping the powerlines swallowing the moon– the sun is a pale smudge on green smoke.

      * * *

      remember when i squeezed your nervous hand & smiled? you were here a moment ago.

      cp

      Surgical Complications

      Now where were we?

      Damn the breastplate guards the lungs

      40 grand if you sell to the right person

      All I have is a crowbar

      This will have to do

      Plunge between the ribs

      Hopefully the heart is not damaged

      okay

      ready?

      Pull!

      Crack!

      Yes!

      No damage,

      Wait…

      what is this

      I got it!

      it feels hard

      like wood…

      A music box

      There is an inscription upon it

      Please…  Deliver to the conqueror

      Well I guess that would be me

      wait what is that song?

      Ave Maria?

      there is a statue of a man sitting in the chair

      as the music progresses the object stands

      and points to its base

      I open it up

      and what to my evil eyes should appear?

      But a miniature fire that engulfed me for my lack of fear.

      Now the body lays while the song still salutes

      ashes are scattered but the statue dances

      another day done

      with one less to fear

      nt

      r o o m

      this room is falling apart

      the books are

      leaping from the shelf

      willy nilly

      as my grandpa would say

      like aphids in spring

      like suicides on christmas day

      like the girl finally

      falling apart

      behind a locked door

      like a closed eye

      like a dog playing dead

      like my parents arguing in the bathroom

      they thought I couldn’t hear them

      with the sink running

      as they boiled the air

      with their anger and

      tore the room apart

      cp

      Nature

      My Fellow Sons and Daughters

      Beast and Barbarians

      Kin and Crustaceans

      Reap your just reward...

      You have made it

      We are climbing the steps of our horseless carriage

      Grab your friends and rejoice

      Errors are forgiven and wrongs lay tenacious below you

      Not only did you make it out alive,…

      Let’s see who we have here!

      Thieves and Kings!

      Ah yes! The poets of our generation can rejoice

      For the end has not only passed,

      but has been abandoned completely

      The Killing Blow of all will force us back into the era of seclusion where a king is decided fools who cause pain and Emperors are the blessed figure heads of Anarchy

      Let the light that is

      Go out

      and may God

      forget

      nt

      Ice-Cream (The Real Bruce)

      There’s this guy named Bruce

      who works at the

      Wilcoxson’s warehouse

      downtown.

      His real name isn’t really

      Bruce, it’s Steven,

      but the only jumpsuit

      that would fit him–

      because he’s

      so small

      that

      is–

      has the name Bruce

      stitched over the left

      nipple so now everyone calls him

      Bruce,

      even his step-mom,

      but she’s got dementia

      and didn’t

      like him much

      in the first place.

      Bruce, the real

      Bruce,

      fell off a ladder

      and filed for disability

      three years ago...?

      but got canned

      instead

      ‘cause he was drunk

      on the job.

      I

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