Greg Purcell
From PORNOGRAPHY SERIES: Soft Core
Note: These have all previously appeared in
The Chicago Reader's personal ad section.
BABY-BLUE SLEEPER, I watched you on the Northbound red. All silence. The walls rung down across the bell of the light. Is it brilliant? Not yet. It made sparks and the train shook. One scratched hand on your belly, one tally for the ribbon of nuisance. Is it beautiful? Not yet.
HANDSOME, 26 Y.O. Possessed of the most distinct hearing; sits up listening to stars beat confessions out of the night. Relatively minute but possessed of Tatlinesque love. Eats iron, breathes perfume. Seeks young revolutionary willing to cut out a few hearts; knows "sinews and muscles are surer than prayers."
PLEASE WARM UP, little raconteur, and describe three conflicts: a title in bold, three black gongs, an impression in snow. Fact: you were making bombs. Fact: you were blonde. But what were you whispering to yourself, hands drawn carefully through the wires? It's difficult, I know. Victims are so unromantic.
Also by Greg Purcell Cold -->
Greg Purcell lives in Chicago, where he is a regular art reviewer for The
New Art Examiner and for Cakewalk Magazine. Greg Purcell has dared jungle animals to code the HTML for his website. If you dare, see it happen here. He stands 5'11" and weighs roughly 200 pounds. Eyes brown. Hair brown. "I won't give you my social security number."
Email Greg Purcell at gregpurcell@gumballpoetry.com.
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