Sally Forth

Hey, remember The Fourth of July, 2003? We don't, but found this in our archives:

Fourth of July Fourthiness.

Independence is on the march, patriots.

& Recently . . .

Kurt Cobain's Ghost with an Invitation to a Fourth of July Picnic and Fireworks by Angela Genusa

"B.L.T.": A Review by Will Layman

Ten Tiny Poems by Brian Beatty

Angry Words from a Gnome Who to This Day Continues to Think the Human Genome Project Was Actually The Human Gnome Project by David Ng

Key Party, N.Y.C., Circa Always by William K. Burnette

A Day on the Phone with Mythological Norse Firewarrior, Bringer of Storms by Aaron Belz

Polish Fact

Geographic Coördinates:
52 00 N, 20 00 E

Learn a Foreign Tongue!

Habla Español!
Los talentos de Andy Richter se pierden totalmente en "Quintuplets."
Andy Richter's talents are completely wasted on "Quintuplets."

Y.P.aRt Gallery

Syndicate! RSD | RSS I | RSS II | Atøm
Large Print | Spanish Bea! Add to your Kinja digest Creative Commons License
This journal is licensed under a Creative Commons License and powered by Movable Typo 3.15.
© MMV, Y.P.R. & Co.
Thursday, March 4, 2004   |    Non-Fiction

Some Replies to “Where’d Ya Get That Shiner?”

by Kim Bosch

I’m tired of telling the story.
Nothing happened.
It’s just a little bruised.
A couple stitches.
I fainted in my bathroom over the weekend.
I slipped on the ice cleaning off my car.
My scarf tripped me into a garbage bin.
My nephew threw a rock at me.
I tried to climb into the boat without using the ladder.
I was making a bow to go with my arrows.
It was the airbag.
CDs have sharp corners.
Belts are not for swinging around your head like a lasso.
An icicle fell from the roof while I was on my smoke break.
I cut in line at the pizza place.
My mother caught me in bed with my stepfather.
I told my roommate she looked fat.
My horse kicked me.
I touched one of the strippers.
My partner failed to hold the branch back while we walked through the woods.
I was drunk and dancing the twist at a wedding.
I punched myself to get a part in a play.
It was a baseball,
a puck,
a squash racquet,
a Frisbee,
a horseshoe.
Stop looking at me!
It’s fine.
What black eye?

Kim Bosch is the sole heiress to the Bosch Power Tool fortune, but right now she has no money (so don't ask her for any). She makes little cash selling her poetry outside the movie complex on Saturdays until the man with the Britney Spears mike kicks over her change cup and threatens to call the cops. She writes a lot of her stuff at night when she's a werewolf. You can find some of it at, Really Small Talk, and McSweeney's. She lives in various places in Ontario.