Nothing A Doll

by Sam Kaspar

Tattoo Parlor: a superficial looking endeavor gets under your skin
inner queries waken with the tingling in my limbs
hello
get in sync
Ink wearies
Nice ass
Canvas, vast expansive, needles prick
I stay whole and don’t let it break me though
I internalize lots of dye
For a tattered up wolf tat
Did I really like it enough to go this far, it’s
Made of dots, realist, cubist, fragments that might look quite
Like a whole
coyote 
had at it, but believe me it’s art
and will scarcely cease, silly, scares,
easily frightened…

Ink Attitude: a superficial behavior, having chosen my branding
hell owed
Me: nothing. walking fret
Helloed again and getting sinked to where I seem to be-
long, sky-rich projected high brandish
stylish brand projects
Inquiries
Nice sass Babe Doll
Who the F are you people
Am I?
Ink wearies, tired of it already, of Damned people
Who?
think my serious art is a novelty meant to amuse
Anachronistic muse, Acutely artistic,
A cute observance
Overtly aware it’s permanent now
Unless you can ream or s(care)
it away

Creep Intake: the involuntary ingestion of vulgar stares
Carried away, remorse
but I realize I’m not the only one navigating my maturation
men, eyes, looks, gestures, they’re everywhere like disease.
I scarcely, easily frighten, they seem to like that
land—catch my unabated breath
before another is looking, wanting, reaching eyes
in a desperation I don’t understand, it’s a different predatory salivation than to greet, salute,
acknowledge only sweet curves of a perfect ass salvation, lips, youth
and I want to flip them all the bird, all those young boy wolf packs and the older coyotes lurking
before they feebly appear for the implicit hunt
limp, picked its shunt
they siphon off, ciphers pause in—
coherence
sucking me dry, my hydration – lifeless, timeless, hollow starlet
you feature big

Outtake: alternatives are a mainstream
Siphon off, meaning F-ed off anyways to safer places, meet,
awaken, giving freely, something else wise shook and taking
warm gush of love and like
is it really given
to sputtering, stews
over it
what goes up topwise must come down
under-studies, stuttered floods the talk,
spouts and sewers, stock rises
on a tear
seams differ
Enters twilight over while it
seems different erstwhile, lover
Water sometimes falls.
It takes something from me.
High duration, I transform states by happenstance, from saturation to
Trickling down into
Nothing, a doll

The Steamie

by Jack Dunnett

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Sam Kaspar was born in Canada, and lives in the U.S. as a retired physician. He enjoys rowing, hiking, writing, travel, Oxford commas, and especially family. He’s had over fifty publications (poetry and short prose) and has been a finalist in several writing contests. Facebook readings: Sam Kaspar the writer @MightySamster.

Jack Dunnett is a mixed media painter who grew up in the Highlands of Scotland. He obtained his Bachelor of Arts in Painting from Gray’s School of Art in 2017. He currently lives and works in Glasgow.