The Chamber of Errors

February 13, 2016


It never gets as crowded as Tussaud’s,
But every day we draw the curious few
Who’ve seen our sticker on the underground,
Our card in a phone box, and felt
That somehow, it was printed just for them.
Of course, it was. Step in and look around.
You haven’t come for Marilyn or Elvis.
Like you, I loathe that taxidermal bathos.
We use the faces left in photobooths
By rushed commuters. Their eyes already closed,
We only have to make them look like wax.

Now look you on the unfamiliar dead.
More than the pancaked meat in satin caskets,
More than the unforgiving memories,
These are your unforgiven. But be warned,
Like faces glimpsed in fever on the curtains,
These will never truly go away.
look round, and after, should you need to rest,
And many do, there is a chesterfield.
But please, please, this is important,

Don’t touch. I spend my life repairing details.
See where I’ve pressed the hairs in one by one?
And here? See where I’ve whorled the fingerpads?
I can’t think what possesses people. Christ,
Sometimes, at night, I find the faces gouged.

Michael Donaghy


February 13, 2016

Serena Malyon

Cultivating people can be arduous,
With results as uncertain as weather.
Try oysters, meerkats, turnips, mice.
My mouse field was a triumph of
Cultivation—pink noses poking
Through quilts of loam, scampering
In the furrows—until the falling
Dwarves (it was that time of year)
Began landing on my field. Fear for
Its harvest had me down on hands
And knees muttering, “Not here,”
My nails clawed at tangles of fat
Dwarves crushing mouse families.
Then, unbelievably, it was over.

By morning every dwarf, maddened
By nibbling mice, had fled the field.
Now, as before, each day, dozens
Of perfect mice leave for the city.
There, they have made many friends
Among computers, and with them
Are developing skills inconceivable
To their forebears. Already, these
Cultivated mice and their computers
Penetrate guilty secrets. Soon they will
Prevail over the turmoil that defines
This darkest of ages. And they will
Find me, asleep in my cave.

Dorothea Tanning

This might be true…

February 13, 2016


belong to a monster…

February 13, 2016


Finally I find it, the book, but as I’m pulling it out of the stack I hear a noise coming from my toy room. It sounds like scratching or scraping maybe and my mind instantly goes to the possibility that maybe it’s a monster or a dragon or something else with claws. My hand shakes a little as I stand up and turn back toward the room. When I step into it, I feel the wind hit my cheeks. I shine the light around and notice one of the windows is open. I don’t understand why. I didn’t open it and I don’t think it was open when I came down here. What if it was a monster?

I sweep the flashlight around the room at all my toys as I start back toward the corner. Then the light lands on something tall… I hear voices. Ones that don’t sound like they belong to a monster, but just people. But that’s what they end up being.

Terrible, horrible monsters.

Jessica Sorensen
The Destiny of Violet & Luke

threat of extinction…

February 13, 2016


A widespread taste for pornography means that nature is alerting us to some threat of extinction.

J G Ballard
News From the Sun

crocodile Valentine


Saturday Sexploitation

February 13, 2016


This will hurt when it goes up you...

This will hurt when it goes up you…

Up it goes...

Up it goes…

You thrust a little to hard, ja...

You thrust a little to hard, ja…

Take that, bitch...

Take that, bitch…

These can go for certain...

These can go for certain…