ShortcArt by Igor Baskin
ShortcArt: 'Poetry of Shortcuts and Headlines'
project by Igor Baskin
Central bank reports on ruble
Friday, August 31, 2018
George Onsy writes and draws
FROM A RAPE VICTIM TO HER BODY
O
my poor body
Torn
apart,
Have
you paid already
The
highest bill
For
the femaleness
You’ve
been supposed
To
hold with dignity?
O
my poor body,
Crying
in vain
To
an earless justice
That
only condemns
The
white-weapon killers
Yet,
is blind still
To
the filthy dagger
That
has stabbed deep
Those
prohibited
Sacred
depths
Of
your soft fragile
Life-giving
cellar.
O
my poor body,
Incurably
wounded.
To
live till that gloomy day
When
you are to be
Smashed
Like
a helpless rose
That’s
always been desired,
I
really wish
You
wouldn’t have been born.
But,
what a pity!
Why
didn’t o Merciful God
Protect
that femininity rose
With
a deadly thorn?
Jeremy Seligson writes
C
O
L
D
R
O
C
K
T
E
M
P
L
E
Water
fog
stone
bridge
wooden
gate
gate
Shoes
on
worn~
out
steps
A
gnarled
pine
Sounds
of
fish
chimes
Lotus
has
gone
~ Iris
and
Lily
Only
Goldy
waits
below
You
ask
the
gold
fish,
“Where
has
Froggie
gone?’
Goldy
shivers
under
your
shoes
You
ask,
“Where
has
Buddha
gone?”
Ice
on
lotus
pots
~ there
goes
a
cold
carp
“What’s
this
feeling …?”
“Lonely”
“You’re
drowning
in
a
lotus
pot
...”
x
x X x
old
silver
beard
golden
scales
x x x
x x
X
X
x
Blue
lotus
cup ~
from
bottom
a
bubble
spills
over
side
L o t u s
f
r a y s
u n d e r~
w a t e r
“It’s
how
a
good
monk
dies”
Silly
nun
basket
in
hand
for
scraps
~
No
wonder
cats
black
and
white
calico
and
a
gray
kitten
follow
down
lane
“Once
I
only
fed
my~
self,”
she
chuckles
“Now,
it’s
every
cat!”
Young
monks
grip
straw
hats
Old
One
sits
down
As
you
bow,
each
monk
bows
(O’
so
cordially)
to
the
Buddha
inside
Through
rain~
bow
lattices,
you
spy
G o l d
B u d d h a’s
m
o u s t a c h e
Under
a
jade
roof
Gold
Buddha
smiles
from
his
lotus
chair
Alone,
a
cave
Buddha’s
3rd
Eye
Slow
around
Buddha’s
Hall
old
hunch~
back
snuffs
out
each
candle’s
light
Our
fat
baby
snores
in
“the
Hall
of
10,000
Buddhas”
Old
monk
pats
your
hand
hugs
your
baby
daughter
accepts
your
wife’s
gift
of
plum
vinegar
~ following
day,
dies
Choco
leaf,
bug~
eaten
beauty
“Thank
you,
sire,
for
falling
in
my
hand”
Leaf
b u s t s
to
b
i t s
of
b
u g s
~
your
life
was
With
a
zillion
leaves
~ the
hole
sinking
into
Grab
stick ~
pole
on
through
the
Sea
of
Leaves
Climb
up
to
the
moon
~
sit
in
Buddha’s
Paradise
Up
high
Mother
calls
us,
“Tea …!”
By
the
temple
bell,
a
boy
kneels
offers
you
leaves
counts
the
drum~
beats
of
your
heart
Forty~
nine
days ~
a
snowy
white
beard ~
wife,
children,
grand~
kids,
too
Old
monks
chant
kazoos
blare
cymbals
clang
drums
bang
Young
nuns
crane
dance
by
the
stream
100 years
~ the
mourning
of
a
single
day
Daughter
shouts, oh
so
gladly ~
“Daddy’s
done!!!”
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