ARTHUR MAGAZINE ARCHIVE

I want to thank all the wonderful poets who allowed us to post their poetry on Arthur while I was the Poetics Editor. I had a wonderful time reading the work and comments and helping bring a poetic flavor to the content posted here. Many people asked me how I was chosen for this position and I tell them it was my resume. When asked to provide more color I refer them to my resume which I’ve posted here.

Thanks to everyone for a great ride into the world of Arthur poetry.

Travis Catsull

My Resume

Objective

To use my skills for an aware and growing company and inspire my co-workers with strong work ethic and friendly attitude.

Experience

Lawn Service: Just like every kid I went around to different houses asking if I could mow their lawn for a few bucks.

Auction Ring: I’d deliver food and drinks to cowboys for tips while they worked cattle in the hot pens all day. Once I was on the catwalk and tossed a can of soda to one of the men, but I didn’t throw it far enough and it bounced off a steel bar and hit the man in the face. Blood gushed from his eye and it started swelling. He insisted it was okay, but didn’t tip me.

Door to Door Salesman: Sold greeting cards and cans of cookies from a catalogue in my neighborhood, but forgot to write down who’d ordered what and my grandmother had to go to every house with me and explain what happened.

Lone Star BBQ: While my boss was teaching me the correct way to cut brisket he told me he shot his father to death.

David’s Grocery: My friend, Jordan, used to get blow-jobs from the check-out girls behind pallets of soda while I restocked shelves.

Lakeside Advertising: Sold ad space to various businesses, but forgot to turn in the checks one day, lost them and never went back to work.

Construction: Wired houses with this old man until he started hitting on my mom.

Champions Putt-putt and Batting Cages: Was fired because I was the only one on duty and was in the batting cages when a bunch of my friends broke into the office and stole $80 in video tokens. My boss showed up, drunk, as this was happening and fired me on the spot.

Firewood Supplier: Cut down trees with a chainsaw, split wood and went with the boss to different BBQ joints in Houston to sell the wood, unload it and stack it in the back.

Movie theatre: After 4 months they changed management and I didn’t like the new people and was tired of working at a movie theatre, so I stole a 5 gallon bucket of movie trailers and left.

Lifeguard: My friend’s mother managed a country club and even though I had no idea about CPR or how to save anyone I worked two days a week until they replaced me with a trained person.

China Buffet: Was a waiter at this buffet place until Sung, the owner, cheated me out of $50. It was a great joke that every week on the work schedule he spelled Wednesday “Weeday”.

Merrill Lynch: Was PBX operator and was responsible for every incoming call going to 400 employees. I lasted a week.

Farm Hand: With a hand hook I’d toss square bales of hay onto the back of a moving truck in the sun for 10 hours a day at .10 cents a bail.

Subway Sandwiches: Was a “sandwich artist” until the boss found out after I’d close up me and a bunch of friends would play hockey in the parking lot, make outrageous sandwiches, drink beer and fill “free sandwich” cards with those yellow stamps.

M.A.R.C: Was an award winning telemarketer and donated plasma for extra cash after my shift since the blood bank was next door.

Flying Tomato: Was fired after cutting through the customer’s lawn on the way to their home to deliver a stuffed pizza. I was also on acid.

Data One: Listened to headphones while entering thousands and thousands of warranty documents from Honda. I lasted a month.

Drug Dealer: Sold acid for college book money after I spent my Pell grant on an electric guitar and a new stereo. Most of my customers were on the football team.

Mechanic’s Assistant: Changed oil in cars, swept the garage, sorted nuts and bolts and put away tools while the mechanics stood around and drank Keystone.

AMC Theatre: My manager was a lesbian nazi woman who when I didn’t hang the marquee letters just right she yelled at me so I quit.

Dr Pepper/7Up Corp.: Was administrative assistant to the Sr. VP of Marketing and did nothing except read and write stories about how shitty corporations were.

Farm Hand: Planted potatoes, cut trees for fence posts and repainted a tractor all in the name of Krishna and the chance to study a different religion.

Blue Cross/ Blue Shield: Transcribed medical charts on patients with every disease or injury known to man. Mostly colonoscopies.

Snow shovel technician: Cleared sidewalks and dug out people’s cars or mopeds until I got the flu and started drinking heavily.

American Pawn: After the boss showed me where all the “defense pistols” were hidden and seeing so many shitty and broken down people, I quit.

Machine Shop: Dipped 10 lb. metal blocks headed to the pentagon in large tubs of terrible acid. Almost killed a co-worker with a 6 inch drill bit.

Speedway Copy: Worked a copy shop where I had to wear a tie. We dubbed our boss “The Nigerian Nightmare” because he treated us so poorly and berated us every day. All of us felt like white slaves to this horrible Nigerian man.

Marriott Hotel: Got hired for the night shift at this hotel because my girlfriend worked there, but when I showed up the boss said I wasn’t dressed properly and I should go home and change into something more professional. I left and never went back.

Icicle Inc.: Cut the heads off salmon as they came down a conveyor belt while tejano music blared. My boss would stand behind me with a stopwatch to see how many heads I’d cut in a minute. Sometimes I’d get to saw the fins off 110 lb. halibut.

Creative Writing Teacher: At a teen center in the Northwest I sat around in the park writing poetry and stories with a bunch of neglected teens. They were imaginative despite their problems.

Construction: Picked up trash, bricks, wood, nails and anything else at a construction site that had finished the job. I found a good coffee thermos one day.

Driver: At a car auction I would drive cars through the auction ring so dealers could bid on them and then I’d park them again.

AAA House Painting: Was the bookkeeper for this mom and pop business until the clueless owner started asking me for business advice. I told him all this stuff, about how they needed more professional shirts and he should hire another team so they could do more houses and that I needed my own office. Mostly I would show up late and listen to my girlfriend’s radio show and eventually he fired me. He gave me a professional looking shirt as a parting gift and asked me if I wanted to buy his motorcycle for $15,000.

Seasonal Worker: Sold Christmas trees, carried them to people’s cars and tied their tree on the roof or crammed it in trunk.

Comerica Bank: Was the assistant to a wheelchair ridden investment broker. I got his files, opened his mail and drove us to lunch in his special van. Usually to Souper Salad. I was really just company in an otherwise boring office.

House Sitter: I lived in this rich Canadian’s house in Costa Rica until we got in an argument one day and he demanded I leave immediately and pay him $20 dollars for the 2 months I’d been there. He was so furious he threatened to sick his dog on me and my girlfriend, but we’d already become friends with the dog.

Bookstore worker: Stood around and sold books until I was moved to the receiving department. I hated receiving so much I simply walked out one day.

Farm Hand: Built and painted fence on a ranch in Wyoming and gutted a 1978 Cadillac to get it ready for a destruction derby contest.

Nissan: Was the production assistant for 4 execs until one of my co-workers kept messing with me, saying I’d be working there for the rest of my life and to show him up I walked out and never returned. A year later, to the day, I called him up to say hello. I knew he’d still be there and he was.

Party Promoter: Threw raves and rock shows in an old Masonic temple until I realized it wasn’t worth the money since the cops and fire inspectors were coming down on me pretty hard. My best security guy getting thrown back in prison had something to do with it too.

Nut Picker: Me and a bunch of people went to a macadamia nut farm because we heard they’d give you $2.50 for every sack of nuts you’d pick, but when we got there all the nuts had been picked and most of us didn’t even get a bag full. We made around $10 between the 5 of us and bought a 12 pack.

Tilt Video Arcade: After I beat every character 3 times in a row on Virtual Fighter 2 there was really no point in my working at this place any longer.

Old Navy: I thought it’d be a great idea to drive 20 miles to work in a clothing store. After 3 days of being late they let me go. It wasn’t “the Old Navy way”.

Guitar Promotions: I stood in Cost Co. and played guitar in front of a pallet of guitars. I was told to convince customers they should buy a great guitar at a wholesale price. Mostly, I watched a Cuba Gooding, Jr. movie about dog sledding about 100 times on the television nearby.

Maintenance Man: Worked on the softball field at Texas Women’s University until I fell asleep in the backroom while it rained and the boss caught me.

Waiter: At a small Italian restaurant I waited on rich people with expensive taste in wine until I saw the chef drooling, from lack of sleep, into the croutons. The best thing was that we’d drink nice wines in the cellar the whole time we worked.

Magazine Peddler: Tried to peddle 3 different underground poetry magazines at the weekly farmer’s market in LA and made absolutely no money.

Hatchet Resort: Was a housekeeper and did ground maintenance at this mountain resort until 3 girls came through and asked me if I wanted to go the Rainbow Gathering in Idaho so I took the $40 dollars I had and never looked back.

Short Order Cook: By the time I could handle all the incoming orders it became impossible to stand the way the owner verbally abused his wife, so I quit.

Coffee Shop: Made espresso, Italian sodas, etc. and worked the cash register until the place went out of business.

Dolly Madison Driver: At 4:30 in the morning some guy was showing me how to drive the delivery truck and happened to slip and say they require you to work 60-70 hours a week. I told him I needed some coffee and got in my car and left.

Security Guard at a Concert: Was fired after someone saw me letting people in for money after the concert had sold out.

Quality Windows and Siding: Convinced people walking through Sam’s Club they should consider windows and aluminum siding because the shit was space-age and never needed painting. I eventually became manager, hired my friends and worked 2 hours a week, but told the boss I was working 25. This lasted a few months until he started catching on and I quit.

Counter top and sink wholesaler: I told this place I was an accountant so they hired me as one. I was okay at it, but they were doing lots of illegal stuff that made it difficult. One day the boss called me to his office and told me I smelled bad so I quit.

*References upon request.

This is from Travis Catsull’s latest book, “Death of An Image and Other Poems” that can be purchase here.

The poetry continues @ Haggard and Halloo Publications.

Drunk on Bacon
by Dan Raphael

sitting in a claustrophobic, slat-sided shed for several days
in a world of clotted smoke
where meat falls like rain
no one dies    no one inhales     no one churns
to love is to have whenever the appetite

pigs are born small
trees are smaller than grass but singularly thicker
from sun to fire
        fire retards time
when the sun goes out our clocks will surrender to gravity
my wrist is a video portal
since i am so many places its always breakfast somewhere,
always the first drink of the day

when i smell myself approaching, swallowing lit matches, stealing firewood
my flame will never stop
every night a new tree falls, three more sprout
when stars turn green they’re moving sideways

Another 2-d Christmas
by Smokey Farris

Fiesta frisbee legs running a gun.
Raspberry look a little giggle and a little tongue pulling in the sweet
fruit.
Jungle gym girl, jungle jim standing up on the bars, jungle gym chasing
Rocko’s gang,
hey baby you remember this one.

It was a spiral of metal mathematical bars,
must have been our kid attraction,
the dome
pentagon top,
triangle sides,
reaching off the great earth and the huge playground,
with sparse attractions.
Most of the space was vacant and earth.
Jumping high above the scotch 79 soccer field
with up turned mesh chest shirts behind the head.
Blake Edwards.
Blake red and white windbreaker,
Dreamed of christmas UFO nights with blue parades of blue snowmen
glowing
and nearly two-d christmas lights
and the magic was fading from the evil yard.
It was disney land alight but it was alien,
it was prismatic.

It was on my street,
and before on the white and yellow pink day on the driveway crest
I saw a gold governing movement,
a great glittering gold tray or sleigh craft, a flat disk,
with an unforeseeable army,
There he was, the burger king,
with his scepter and crown,
blank fiberglass stare,
and all the spirit of a cartoon god.

Trickle-Down Theory of Technology
by Dirk Michener

Rich people get the newest in technology
Poor people get the oldest
Then later, Rich people also get the oldest
Poor people get the not quite as old
Then later, Poor people get the almost newest
But not the Most New
Only Rich people get that
Also the very oldest
Only Rich people get that too
Poor people get shuffled around
Rich people get everything
Then later, Poor people get everything
But it’s shuffled around
So they forget that they have everything
But Rich people always remember
They have everything
Poor people forget
Poor kids and Rich kids
Like watching Betamax
Rich kids like watching poor kid movies
Poor kid like richie rich movies
Rich kid like lars von treier
Poor kid like jeff Foxworthy
Jeff Foxworthy had everything
But didn’t know it
Jeff Foxworthy had a Betamax player in his basement
But didn’t know it
Lars Von Treier had a Betamax in his guest bedroom
And he would sneak up there at night,
After his wife would fall asleep
And watch “The Prince and the Pauper”
Until the scene where they were found out
Then later, “The Parent Trap”
The original version
Not the remake version
Poor people movies made by Rich people
Everyone loves those best
Nobody likes John Waters
It’s where I first found out what “Emasculation” meant
John Waters Betamax tapes go for a lot of money
A Dike got her post-op sex-change penis emasculated
By her weirdo Mortville lover
In Mortville everything is backwards
Externally

The Satellites Sway
by Shon Zee

the satellites slowly drive past my attention
which is locked in the static key of the tiny ravines
that criss-cross blisters on palm sunday
as i crawl towards another beer
for repentence

old pieces of laundry turn up at a magic show
and fly away as doves
afterwards
backstage
i tackle the moustache in the tophat and steal his sleeves
but all i find is a few ochre coins and a dead pigeon
no socks

so i mow myself under a fog of manspray
and collide with the field of twinkle twinkle and

the stain on the satellite
looks like texas
but no one has the eyesight to tell for sure
so no one believes

long measures of breath
shy of the water bowl
where grapes drift on their backs
pretending to feel sad about the raisins
as they graze the stars for something ancient
to turn into

but the third gate is rusted shut
and armies of ants swell to defend it
from the wrinkle in the poets knuckle

i’ve been building fists out of sleepy pills
shoving them into the mouths of story book statues
who complain of gigantism
yet can’t lift higher than a pig’s knee
(napolean’s knee being an exception)

a dazzle of splintered jolt
strangles my ankles in shoots of static function
stumble stairs
crumble step and
drop into the seed well
where I’ll sleep
under the occasional shade of the beanstalk
that sways over the open cavity

Corner
by Misti Rainwater-Lites

Sticky with summer mosquito swarm and candy apple sweat I stood on the corner in a town you can’t pronounce selling my wares. One dry frigid cunt for rent. Ten toes to suck. Two abnormally enormous nipples to chew. My mouth sucks like a greedy maw but that like most things is a big fat lie. The only thing I am greedy for is McDonald’s money. I like the coffee and hot apple pie. I don’t think about the hands, the hands that have touched my pie and put it in a bag. I also have plastic petunias for sale for people who are too afraid of Jesus to dilly dally in my murky waters.

Early Sunday Morning
by Edward Hirsch

I used to mock my father and his chums
for getting up early on Sunday morning
and drinking coffee at a local spot,
but now I’m one of those chumps.

No one cares about my old humiliations,
but they go on dragging through my sleep
like a string of empty tin cans rattling
behind an abandoned car.

It’s like this: just when you think
you have forgotten that red-haired girl
who left you stranded in a parking lot
forty years ago, you wake up

early enough to see her disappearing
around the corner of your dream
on someone else’s motorcycle,
roaring onto the highway at sunrise.

And so now I’m sitting in a dimly lit
café full of early- morning risers,
where the windows are covered with soot
and the coffee is warm and bitter.

Tonight the Neighbors Spell JESUS on Their Lawn in Christmas Lights
by Carrie Fountain

Walking by tonight, we’re reminded
there must’ve been a first time
for everything–one green shoot, a drop
of bluish water, a few red cells.
The letters wink at us as if they know
what they’re for, and we go by, saying
“Oh God, look at that,” as if we did, too.

Mornings, the lights are left on
to call very palely to the large,
uninterested sky. “We are all alone,”
they cry. And the sky answers back
by not moving an inch.

-From her latest book, Burn Lake

Emphysema
by Alexandra Batson

I was nine
when I watched my mother cough until she couldn’t breath;
I never thought that would be me.
Now sixty-three,
my lungs collapse and my heart is worn out; a flower fighting to survive slow murderous frost.

I long for just one more cigarette -
I sit on the white bench stained with rust on the back porch and imagine the ember
blazing against the last cold bite of April air.
I would die to feed on the filtered tip, to feel the darkness tingle my tongue.

Instead oxygen is fed to me through a tank
like a mother feeds a child.

Husbands? Who needs ‘em? I had a few, I’d be lying if I said they didn’t mean anything.
I have all I need now – an oxygen tank, and a daughter who lives in my house, and brings me vodka.

I look up at my soon-to-be garden through an empty glass, vision distorted,
the glass used to be filled with a vodka tonic
this garden used to be filled with growth my
body used to be filled with life.

In a month, “Will I make it another month?” I ask out loud, to make sure I’m still alive. Tina and I will shop for flowers to fill the space the winter cold has taken hostage: Widow’s Tears, Bleeding Hearts, German Irises, Panseys

The world lives to see another spring, everything comes back to life.
Curtis, the little black boy from down the street will ride his bike to come chat
with me on the back porch.
Rebirth and youth come together while emphysema picks another victim to meet Death.
What about the grandchildren? I promised the oldest, when she was the only,
that I would live forever. She will remember this while she sits at my side…

Will anyone tell Curtis where I went?

Cradle Song
by Janine Pommy Vega

I lower my bones in you
Adriatic Sea
through the porthole
lapping on my ceiling
all night long

I surrender my joints and knuckles
the watery lining of my lungs
the passageways of breath
and brain wave
rock me

Mother of the apron pocket
crook of the arm
susurrous lullaby O
rock me in your cradle
all night long

The Death Of Santa Claus
by Charles Harper Webb

He’s had the chest pains for weeks,
but doctors don’t make house
calls to the North Pole,

he’s let his Blue Cross lapse,
blood tests make him faint,
hospital gown always flap

open, waiting rooms upset
his stomach, and it’s only
indigestion anyway, he thinks,

until, feeding the reindeer,
he feels as if a monster fist
has grabbed his heart and won’t

stop squeezing. He can’t
breathe, and the beautiful white
world he loves goes black,

and he drops on his jelly belly
in the snow and Mrs. Claus
tears out of the toy factory

wailing, and the elves wring
their little hands, and Rudolph’s
nose blinks like a sad ambulance

light, and in a tract house
in Houston, Texas, I’m 8,
telling my mom that stupid

kids at school say Santa’s a big
fake, and she sits with me
on our purple-flowered couch,

and takes my hand, tears
in her throat, the terrible
news rising in her eyes.

We Try Harder
by Hal Sirowitz

While I was getting a drink at the bar
a half hour ago I saw you deciding,
she said, whether you should talk to me,
I tried making your decision easier
by smiling at you, but you started
talking to someone else. I’m
your second choice. Just like
Avis has to try harder than Hertz,
I have to try to outshine the other women.
Knowing you picked her over me
makes me want to tell you
to just go back to square one.