How to let go

“¿No quieres saber por qué?” dijo Teodoro.

“Lo que digas,” dijo Stringer mientras se enderesaba el pelo spiky con una peinilla cubierta en aciete de oliva y ajo. Cerro el baul de su Camaro. “Sera mil por cada cachete. En efectivo.”

“Es que a veces puede ser tan cabeziduro.”

“¡Gran mierda!” dijo Stringer.

“No se suelta por días y cuando por fin suelta, sale como una pelota de futbol hecha de piedra. El papel de inodoro todo cubierto en sangre.”

“Usa suavizante de heces y Preparation-H,” dijo Stringer.

“Es la diarrea que me coje.”

“No importa.”

“La causa es la diarrea, ¿sabes?” Los ojos de Teodoro se llenaban de lagrimas. “Me cagó los pantalones una vez. Lo hizo en el estadio, durante el juego de los Browns de Celveland.”

“Deja de llorar. Son tus ojos que tienen diarrea. Tus ojos y tu boca.”

“Cuentalo,” dijo Teodoro soltando el rollo de billetes sobre la mesa.

“Esto ni me cubre los boletos para ver a Bon Jovi.” Stringer saco un derringer, un arma pequeña, de la cangurera color camuflaje abrochado bajo su panza.

“Esa pistola se ve toda vieja y pequeña,” dijo Teodoro.

“¿Qué es lo que quieres que haga primero?” dijo Stringer.

“Asesina a mi culo.”

“Esta bien. Volteate.”

Teodoro le dio la espalda a Stringer. “Porfavor, degolla la yugular de mi culo. Acuchillalo, con una estaca por el corazon.”

“No,” dijo Stringer.

El cañon de el arma estaba puesto entre las nalgas de Teodoro, su sonido apagado por los khakis marones que Teodoro llevava puesto.

Pa!, pa!, pa!, pa!

Teodoro cayo al piso aullando, gritando y agarrando sus nalgas. “¿Eran de plata?”

“Me ire cuando termines de desangrar,” dijo Stringer. “Cuando estes muerto, tu culo estará muerto.”

- Translated by Andy Riverbed with proofs by Maria Linares



"You don't want to know why?" said Theodore.

"Whatever," said Stringer as he straightened the spikes on his hair with a comb dipped in olive oil and garlic and locked the trunk of his Camaro.

"That'll be a thousand for each cheek," said Stringer, "cash."

"It's because sometimes he is so stubborn."

"Big whoop!" said Stringer.

"He won't let it out for days and when he does, it passes like a stone football, toilet paper comes out soaked in blood."

"Use some stool softener and Preparation-H."

"It's the diarrhea that gets you though."

"I don't give a fuck."

"It's the diarrhea, that's what really did it, you know?" Tears filled Theodore's eyes. "He shit my pants one time. He did it at the stadium, at the Cleveland Browns game."

"Stop crying, it's your eyes have the diarrhea now. Your eyes and your mouth."

"Count it," said Theodore as he dropped the roll of bills on the table.

"This won't even cover my Bon Jovi tickets."

Stringer pulled a small derringer from the camouflage fanny back strapped under his gut.

"That gun looks all old and small," said Theodore.

"What did you want me to do again?" asked Stringer.

"Kill my butt."

"This is fine. Turn around."

Theodore faced away from Stringer. "Please, slit my butt's throat, stick a stake through my butt's heart."

"No."

The barrel of the gun was stuck squarely between Theodore's butt cheeks, muffled by his brown khaki Dockers.

Bang!, bang!, bang!, bang!

Theodore fell to the floor howling and screaming and clutching his asshole. "Were those silver?"

Stringer answered the question by pulling up a beach chair and taking out his copy of Blacktel.

"I'll leave when you bleed to death," said Stringer. "When you're dead, your butt's dead."

- Jeff Kane



Punk Rock & Hip Hop Shows the 19thth & 20th

November 19 @ The Wayward Council

la cara oculta (g-ville punk rock)
pericles (dominican republic punk rock)
onepointzero (g-ville hip-hop)
the shreds (o-town punk rock)

November 20 @ The Wayward Council

scum of the earth (g-ville hip-hop)
st.dad (g-ville punk rock)
ngozi (g-ville hip hop)
big kitty (chattanooga punk rock)
heavy flow (jaxville hip hop)


Kane

Jeff T. Kane, an ex-lover of mine whom I try and try to cut out of my life again and again but he just keeps on reeling me, has a novel in progress HERE.


Poems

New poem, “Carving Names for the Sky,” published at The Fine Print’s blog. Check that out HERE.

Other than “Carving…” and another poem that hasn’t been put up, I decided I will only publish my poems on my Tumblr. I don’t know how long this “thing” I’m doing will last. Read: “Still hungry,” “A turkey stuffed with wooden chandeliers,” “Achievement for the underdog,” and “air condition.”

According to somebody my latest poetry collection on ReadSomeWords, “Missed Connections & Casual Encounters” was hailed as “ddddddddddddddddddamn." Check that out HERE.

I have said about me: “youngin’, with an awesome future….one of the best imaginations I’ve ever seen…” HERE.

A profile does me with a very accurate picture HERE.


Submissions wanted

Looking for submissions of English or Spanish poetry or flash-fiction to translate from English to Spanish or Spanish to English.

Feel free to submit at andy.riverbed (at) yahoo.com


New Translation

Sobre Bailey’s

Sobre Bailey’s (original, aunque conozco
que prefieres el del sabor a menta) me preguntastes
con quien había compartido
mas orgasmos y con quien había compartido
las mejores. Algunos nombres
fueron dejado caer y luego me quede silencioso
mirando al almohada y pensando en la taxidermia.
Luego aprovechastes el tiempo
y indicastes
que no me importaba
escuchar de las cosas
que una vez habían goteados desde tu boca.
Para verme al natural, acorde, pero
no era que no me importaba.
Mi problema se encontraba en la gravilla
y anualmente rodeaba
el universo.
Me sentía aborreciblemente grosero.
Para esta discusión
necesitaremos mas Bailey’s y
mañana reemplazare
la botella de tu familia, obviamente a condición
de que gane suficiente
en propinas.

- Translated by Andy Riverbed


Over Bailey’s

Over Bailey's (original, though I know
you prefer peppermint) you asked
with whom I shared
the most orgasms and with whom I shared
the best. Some names
were dropped and then I was silent
looking
at a pillow and thinking of taxidermy.
Then you took the time
to point out
that I didn't care
to hear about anything
that once dripped from your mouth.
To appear natural I agreed but
it wasn't that I didn't care.
My problem lay in the gravel
and circled the universe
on a yearly basis.
I felt abhorrently rude.
For this kind of discussion,
we will need more Bailey's and
tomorrow I'll replace
your family's bottle, provided of course,
that I make enough
in tips.

- Joseph Goosey