Posts Tagged ‘Seán O’Donnell’

I hope my cousin Barney never will read this. I write that half in jest — not because I have many cousins, none bearing the name Barney, but because my cousin Barney cannot read. However, my fears are not subdued, and I resolve to burn this page (or these pages, as it is early in the text) when I am finished. That will remove any possibility that Barney’s sister, Alice, will read him these words. Phew, writing has become easier. That writing this is easier because I am actually dictating is hogswallop.

Anyway, you (the reader, or listener in Barney’s hypothetical case) may be wondering why I resolved to burn this/these page(s) upon its/their completion. After all, poor, illiterate Barney does not even exist. However, despite Barney’s lack of existence, his sister, Alice, does exist, and therefore she could read these words to him.

Ah, the burning is moot — I’ve lost my matches.

Despite the disappearance of my matches, consternation compels me to continue writing, damning the wind and spitting into the torpedoes. That takes some guts, some might say; some might not say that. Regardless of the lack of a unified position on the gastrology of the matter, I press on. Perhaps I can dupe Barney into bringing me a book of matches. Yes, that is what must be done. Barney will be the instrumental tool in the destruction of these very words that I hope he does not read. Now, the waiting.

I have made the call. Despite Alice’s irate attempts to fool me into believing that she does not have a brother — much less one named Barney — and that she is my fourth-grade baby-sitter — not my cousin — I made it clear that I expect to have the matches ASAP. To which she incredulously replied, “You’re a sap.” Silly bitch.


Read Full Post »

Any Moor Will Do

A sidestep into a wisecrack
that will break your mother’s heart,
no takebacks on the fast track,
no reprieve, no slack.

Anymore, a part of me is you;
the part of me I knew
seems new,
I know.
No how, no why.
Apart from you I thrive
until I shrivel, wrinkle and die.

Read Full Post »

— Seán O’Donnell

Send your submissions for BGotF to submissions[at}opheliastreet.com.

Read Full Post »

Images splattered in mumbled subtextiles and busy prints in typewriter narration. Ding, click, slide, and resume and cover letter, and voila!, violin and cello promenade eventfully, wiping tearsheets from their eyes. Mailman leaves femalewoman’s bed, and next stop


Read Full Post »

Editors’ note: Readers are encouraged to post comments supplying their own guesses.

Driving to work this morning, I was cut off by a cream PT Cruiser. Though annoyed at first, I became perplexed by the car’s vanity plate.
It read: “IM PBS.”

Read Full Post »

Dinner and a Show

Will you sit in silence
as I contemplate the gravy?
Will you hold that against me,
silently, like when I chew
with my mouth open,
with my lips smacking,
with rye seeds sputtering across the table
onto your lumpy mashed potatoes?

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: