cold wash cycle

cold wash cycle

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thank youfor all who submitted.

for all who listened to me ramble on about this one blog I’m starting.

for parents, pre-school teachers, writers who write about whales, mexican restaurants, the men who bottle milk, and carnies.

for failed relationships because they make things more interesting.

for the readers who will read all of the great words inside.

thank you for reading this mixture of darks & lights in a cold wash cycle. Inside are true stories and true stories posing as fiction. Hope they don’t bleed together and then shrink.

your editor,pashmina

cold wash cyclecontributors

bethany v. price. a poet with the daring a testos-terone-rich orc envies. currently working on a poetry manuscript with beautiful caligraphy and illustrations. a spirited young woman.

parker winship. co-au-thor of the blog worldwidedirt.com. a poet and fiction writer. currently working on a screenplay that will tear your socks right off. he makes a good joke and an even better bowl of mac and cheese.

cold wash cyclecontributors

kristin peterson. a poet & photographer. cooks jambalaya like gumbo and is okay with twitter now. never refuses a hug; takes naps in between classes. currently writing a novel that might turn into a screenplay.

mary shippee. a world traveler and a keeper-upper of the interesting whatsits in this world. she will never quit smok-ing if she continues to watch film noirs. a poet, a friend, a fighter. she carbonates the world.

cold wash cycle cold wash cycle

1.

A soldier in Iraq called with two weeks noticeto tell his wife he was nowa virtual hailstorm of chaos and uninterrupted text,and that the old men finally got him -he’s a certified Isle,with granny square afghans to match.on the phone, she was a nervous inebriation ofgolden poppies and pornographic eyebrows -she knew he tended towards the experimental,but this well worn territoryPrefixed with media barragealloted her vanilla boyfriendsand grand portico canopies.“the world is changing”she realized -and after glows on the far ridges of Americawould not be employed in her meat hacking slaughter.so, her laughter, entirely undue to vagueness/confusion,fell in with the lonely left over thumbsof Hebrew hospitality.Her husband’s penis, waving like an anemone,would miss her fattening walls.

-Bethany Price

my first cut out poem

cold wash cycle

2.

he, the innocent one,fumbled my thumbsgrown home from beyorn-jambed limbs getting stubbed

their sex was in between my legsa pelvis or two folding at my thighstwo pansies yipping together, a kosher mealtoppled jewelry box and its jacks stabbingat my red haired pygmy friend in the back who chantsa little gregorian while he unsheathes andthen sighs, sighs, sighs

and I see I am still payingfor falling off the monogamy wagonwith every time we are all within a foot of that roomwhere we forced warmed beers down his throatand laughed at how much more wild we arethan them--at least I learned how to lie

hope she remains happy to bemy grazing, musing scapegoat

never ford the river


3.

because she sure does it wellwe should have learned from all those rainy-day re-cessessitting at those macintoshs, playing game after gameof Oregon Trail (we were all there at age 9, in the same room)that you never should ford the river

and the rest of us, well,we aim to forget.

-Kristin Peterson

cold wash cycle

4.

I am a Buddhist (and that makes me cooler than you)I am a BuddhistAnd that makes me cooler than you.I don’t worry about my hairbecause I get emptiness, and I’mtoo busy meditating and pretendingmy legs aren’t cramped fromzen lotus positionI don’t care about moneybecause I am too busy readingSuzuki Roshi contemplating my good karma I get fromfilling space with philosophicaldharma talk for your benefit.I get all that dharma i’ve readbut it’s too profound for youDon’t worry though. Even thoughI dwell in elevated realms, I can descendfrom the bhumis to enlighten you. My pleasure.

-Mary Shippee

I am a Buddhist


5.

he was in a car crash and for months afterward when-ever he drove on the interstate he imagined losing control again, the car flying out from underneath him, swaying into the centripetal force until the impact jams you out of it. he drove to winsor and on the way it became night and on a long stretch between cities a new radio station caught on the receiver that played jazz under a hiss of interference. the road was brand new and the white lines were perfect rectangles. ev-ery overhead light was on. there were sound barrier walls on either side of the road and beyond that, noth-ing. “woh,” he said. it was entirely detached, like in a utopian sci-fi movie, like a ribbon unfurled in space (which is also a little like an ejaculation), like mario kart rainbow road. he turned into a bend in the road, felt the gravity pull on him, sipped from a bottle of coca-cola. two lanes over, a semi sighed. coupled run-ning lights pressed down the length of the road, stretch-ing it further. he accelerated. the wheel hummed in his palms. shooooooooooooo

-Parker Winship

rainbow road

cold wash cycle

6.

perhaps elastic plastic remembrances future politi-cal tense mummified heirlooms upon rustic nostalgia hand-holding house-cats; handy-man & a homecooked meal time manner, many are mingling, coexhibition-ing in & out of their tipped glasses, mingling nostalgic tears with buttery honey, muttering money promises, a panderer using dander to squander upfaced plams with beautified begging, too bad outside is nothing but snakes in sand--sandy snakes. Why wander into damned dams when one can inquire whether time will grow fatter “a horse, a horse. My kingdom for a house.”

Of course.

-Bethany Price, Kristin Peterson, & Travis Thorp

april fools’ night


7.

skin peels, luggage of bones.violins wilt inside pianos -what it sounds like when we weep (you, silently).the smallest inky drop of sadembedded in my cheek, embryonic.

we keep returning to the past, a bad habit,memory a lungfish sucking on our ears.

my fingers breathe old sweatharm the varnish on my brain.these hands keep creating the same veined figure;

clones. we live in a room of them,make our beds in their shit.

- Bethany Victoria Price

failed new years resolutions

cold wash cycle

8.

my lists are pure summer folly and I miss the freedom

maybe, maybe, baby. Maybe.And nothing is worse than “it’s too late.”you see I give charity to none and I love only someclever karats capture curious cats, can’t concedeHe’s always chiming like a ring-tone.yonder a tree grows dim along with lengthy inner twilightyou’re nothing like her; she was a bag of nervesleft-overs are ok. especially with meI reminisce, I reminisce to the corner store on 9th street, laying chocolaterapidly whispering, “I want you.”Don’t just stand there, build something!a tangerine rabbit chasing tail, laughing, reelingmeasure all you want, it is best to wait.Wouldn’t it be nice if we were homeless? Then we wouldn’t have to pay the bills.and no it sounds foreign for your mouth to say sorrymaybe across the streetI was told, “it it tastes good, spit it out.”

and so it goes


9.

a forehead here blinded by time’s comical fingertips No, not maybe. But, always, “baby.”And so it goes.

-Bethany Price, Kristin Peterson, & Travis Thorp

cold wash cycle

cold wash cycle is a blog and now a literary journal that aims to cleanse ourselves of the thoughts that track in mud. we share what we see as true and what we aren’t sure is true at all.

all are welcome to submit pieces to cold wash cycle. visit coldwashcycle.blogspot.com and sift through the posts. most are fiction pieces but we all know they are just poorly hidden true stories.

some write poems about how they kissed their best friend’s brother in the seventh grade.

some write about the photograph they airbrushed to make them look thinner for their ok cupid account.

some send in photos of their trips to the everglades.

some write about regets.

some write about triumphs.

thank you for reading through this piece. if you want to get involved please e-mail [email protected] and an overly friendly response will come back your way.

may 2011coldwashcycle.blogspot.com

cold wash cycle

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