A.D.Hitchin is a poetry and prose writer and has been published extensively in small press and independent journals including ‘Counterexample Poetics‘, ‘ditch,’, ’Dogmatika’ and ‘3AM’. His ’The Holy Hermaphrodite’ chapbook has just been released by Shadow Archer Press. You can catch newly updated experiments at: www.myspace.com/antonyhitchin and http://antonyhitchin.blogspot.com/
My name is Mr Clean and I am a fixer, he said. The images within the manila envelope swelled against my leg. The child danced air, smile undimmed by the spring shower. I used to know all my neighbours, now the houses are full of strangers. The scent of her sweat clung to the Cuban‘s girth. Catching glimpses of shadows I stitch them together as a consecutive shadow picture. Now, tell me the story of your day Mother said. Mr Clean lined the women up before me with the expectation that I would pick only one. I sleep alone with her garter under my pillow. Polite society is merely a parade. Despite her decorum I am forever able to see through to the animal. The contents of the manila envelope dribbled my leg.
If you wish to imprison a man promise him total freedom. Linguistic devices do not necessarily correspond to reality. The map is not the territory, the territory is not a … map. Anyone wearing a shirt and carrying a clipboard looks official. We are socially conditioned to respond to uniforms. He gained access to her back passage by virtue of his truncheon and helmet - there he committed the most hideous crime. I could detect her animalistic scent from across the room; I put down my china cup and asked her to dominate me … ,
for the rest of the day we crawled naked on all fours.
onion skin peels ultra violet layers
prism cast triggers evolution sequence of meat body biologic containers - fetid filthy fabric flesh suits!
Ikhnaton three-eyed invaders flame infra-red, film past perishes
with dawns empty shopping bags floating untiring brutality, wind sown with childhoods broken up in
streets toothless laughter
dogon star-system Sirius claws pincer occluded blind spot transforming beyond homo-sapiens …
covered in withered shadow chain of words
air conditioned brand clothes,
malls multi-level structures throw
disproportionate shadows identical
supermarket begging attention, facsimile winding
endless franchise bars, logo kids duplicate
takeaways, witty anecdotes, strip lights
streets bustling identi-kit
not quite within them.
screen digits, the periodic giant community hard disk drive index hums rumbles - snake oil priest reciting old sermon for the stylus
numbered interspersed Mayan codices wrist polar posts of knowledge - sonic brink of sleep pastoral composure cultures - arts marble giants - cyclic mausoleum spectral music - her mothers invention of psychic ills, luminous doctors and
empty rooms worm subculture
enact transgressive marginality reclamation
jizz flick no surrogate