What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…



Mister, mister, have you seen my sister, have you been the boy that kissed her, how could I have ever missed her, mister, twist her, twister, pistol-whipper, whip and blister bones with bluster, muster mustard moaning faster, fast and pass the cast list master, mass the passing stash of cats or drag the blasting blasted flag disaster, sass the lipper and outlast her, tip the crass elastic plaster, planter man the pan-dead can, stand the band up sideways midways, ride the byway’s high ways trying to keep crying without drying, piss out sighing sordid lying, sorted thighs now outside frying, laying mites with light sprightly steps, kept sprite inside the eyeball cup supped and soon swooning for spoon tunes, mooning goons, and going boonie duning, glooming sooner horn balloons, scorning runes to shine for other mothers than mine, brother, brother, have you seen my sister, risk the duster busting rusty gutters, butter bunting, batter bunning, bunny boring, sunny coring, mooring the doors to the telescopes, hoping the dope slope is not too steep, too sleepy seeping beaks, steeping bags to bleed the sagging sage, magic plague raging against the maraschino, Bean, oh, Bean, have you seen my sister, this her last teen year, steered and speared, tearing fears fiercely fleeing stares, fleeting tears and sparing spores for supper supplement stints, complement  the dinner plates, compliment the sinner states, rate the aggravated date on time and rhyming style signage, mine age or thine grave staged for the brave depraved poor, taking four for granted, waving tann-ed fans from off the top sun shelf stop, sopping selves sorely misplayed, displaced and splayed, grace given orders, living borders bodied up, the toddlers, ladies, are teething, engraving seething mavens into day, pay precious crested lettuce, letting fetish find the former farmer blind, kind and kindling, sending lemmings peddling, spindling spun meddles, dead-rung bundles belting, ding dung sting her sadly, have you seen my sister, daddy, daughter, padding lines and links this long, add a spine and call it song, wrong gong the eight-prong zinger, king the wingmate, the meat hate eater, meet the waste pleader, pleasing peasant meter readers, miser deems the wizened steamer, incise the seam or bite the sizer, disguised flies and fleas seizing trees for free, spree the shopper chopped and molting, volts revolting, bolting past her, crash the pasture, stature steady, ready feinting fists and hit the highest hand at last, flash the flush and sleave the shifting screamer, Pastor, oh, and have you seen my sister?
I wanna see it, when you find out what comets, stars, and moons are all about…

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What Direction Now? Life at the intersection…

About Andrew.

Andrew Cartwright grew up in Indianapolis, IN, but has lived over the years in such places as Denver, CO; Fairfax, VA; and Rivne, Ukraine. He is a former nonfiction editor for both Indiana Review and phoebe; he has also worked for the intersectional feminist journal, So To Speak, and the national literary magazine, Electric Literature. His work has appeared in The Normal School Online, Copper Nickel, Esquire Ukraine, Literary Hub, and Word Riot.

For more information about me and links to other writing, visit my author page at cartwriter.com





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