the INLAID EAR

“Pinstriped skin? You want pinstriped skin?” So, needlessly, you repeat it. “Okay, okay. The Pinstripe Kid.” He’s old. He fetches his needles and a jar of powdered black ink. “Take a couple months. At least weeks, you know.” Yes, you know. The man slakes the ink from a cracking teapot. Though chilly, you take off your slacks. “So what’s up?” he asks. “You pissed off at your mother?” But when he asks, it’s at the back wall, an aside. So you don’t say anything.   “Fuck,” he barks, laughs or coughs.  What?   “Hell. Stripes. You know? Never mind. You ready?” You are. Each etching stroke feels like bursting across a finish line. More Andrew Goldfarb awesomeness including art, music and performance at The Slow Poisoner www.theslowpoisoner.com  and www.ognerstump.com

Here's some nice news: Wild Age Press gave me an honorable mention in their "Anything Goes" poem contest. They put up a photo and bio of me (which, perhaps, you were looking at just before clicking over here to read my honorably mentioned poems).  Editor Kelly Lynn Thomas says these poems earned the mention "for their innovative form, strong imagery, and fascinating subject matter." They are queron, a 17-line poetry form of my own devising. I hope you will enjoy. Smiley face.   * * * "Serious Ink" “Pinstriped skin? You want pinstriped skin?” So, needlessly, you repeat it. “Okay, okay. The Pinstripe Kid.” He’s old. He fetches his needles and a jar of powdered black ink. “Take a couple months. At least weeks, you know.” Yes, you know. The man slakes the ink from a cracking teapot. Though chilly, you take off your slacks. “So what’s up?” he asks. “You pissed off at your mo...