wieldy

Good Advice

by Michael Internicola



bob said, "i can't believe you only read half

my short story."-i told him get used to it.

he also told me not to leave it around. didn't

want anyone to steal the title. miami somethin'

somethin' he called it. he did a treatment for a

pilot but didn't even write the first show. said

he had three meetings with hbo and everything.

he had an idea about a bellman in a new york

hotel. actors trying to make it. at least five words

on the front page i never saw before in my life.

couldn't understand the meaning. he works the

door at a joint i hang out at three times a week. my

roommates behind the bar so i got it covered. i

never pay a cent. last night when i was leaving

with the fat girls he asked me, "so what you think,

mike?"-i stopped, lit up a cigarette and stood there

tapping him on the shoulder, "write what you know,

bobby."-i said, "and don't ever fucking write what

you don't."

Sixteen Things You Should Know

by Amy King



By the time I hide my middle name, 

you'll claim the first truth:  

I live across the street from Citgo in Brooklyn.  

Dead wood turns to curbside furniture;

legally-muscled butcher fingers 

kosher flanks; bottled-water swaps 

condensation for summer heat.

They found a capsized girl from Georgia 

holding court on red clay ensconced 

by her amber ego beneath my turban bonnet.

Since then, I will not make love 

until I am in it. 

I cage the dog's bark in caffeinated lightning

as I lip-sync my first name when asked.  

History never finds me nor finds me out

the same. You, in turn, might sing 

along with an exacting world 

and its inner tin-heart difference.