ISSN 1551-8086
return to home search for a contributing writer

seach for poems by title

archive of previous issues submissions information mailing list online store links to other interesting sites contact us  
  November 2016
volume 13 number 2
-table of contents-
 
  home  
 
  featured poets
  Jonathan Beale
  J de Salvo
  Darren C Demaree
  Amélie Frank
  Jerry Garcia
  Terry McCarty
  Akor Emmanuel Oche
  Greg Patrick
  Alison Ross
  Cody Rukasin
  Viola Weinberg
  Kelley White
 
  home
  poets
  poems
  archive
  submissions
  mailing list
  store
  links
  contact
 
Alison Ross November 2016
   

 

bio


photo by marie c lecrivain

    Clockwise Cat publisher and editor Alison Ross has been published here, there, elsewhere and nowhere. She experienced rave-levels of ecstasy when she found out she was shortlisted for the 2014 Erbacce Prize among 20 others, down from 5,000 entries. She was also giddily bemused when was nominated for the Best of the Net a few years back, though she lost out to savvier scribes. Alison also writes book and music reviews, and is a staff book reviewer for Five 2 One Magazine. Alison's chapbook, Clockwise Cats, released by the venerable Fowlpox Press, will subvert your dissonant dystopia into a euphonious utopia of Zen-Surrealist bliss.

   

 

Dante’s Disco Inferno

In Dante’s Disco Inferno, they are rollerskating backwards down the
nine levels of the devil’s den.

In Dante’s Disco Inferno, Satan is wearing satin as he twirls through
Saturday night with a fever for the seven deadly sins.

In Dante’s Disco Inferno, disco is not dead, but the souls are filled with
dread, as Virgil guides the tour of the Studio 54 of the underworld.

In Dante’s Disco Inferno, everyone is talkin’ jive, but nobody is stayin’
alive.

Burn, baby, burn.

copyright 2016 Alison Ross

   

 

Fear of A Cat Planet

(With profuse apologies to Chuck D and Public Enemy)

Ain’t nuttin’ but a feline thing.

Cats everywhere, climbing Escher stairs and melting like Dali clocks on landscapes of couches in a desert of ten thousand suns. Cats chasing spiders into David Bowie’s eardrum all the way to Mars. Cats zigging when they should be zagging.

Cats weaving in and out of Emily Dickinson poems, knocking over dashes and smashing cryptic symbolism under foot.

Cats chewing the film reel strips of a David Lynch movie. Cats hurling up piles of psychedelic puke, which tell a complex story that no one understands but that everyone loves. Cats winning Academy Awards. Cats clawing their way to the top, and hissing at the pseudo-stars.

Cats on top of refrigerators. Cats inside refrigerators, eating all the lettuce. Cats morphing into refrigerators. Cats whirring and purring and freezing ice cubes inside their rib cages. Cats coming Straight Outta Compton with a crazy motherfucker named Ice Cube. Cats censoring rap lyrics.

Cats inside tornadoes. Cats predicting a 90% chance of thunderstorms. Cats inhaling rain-filled clouds and heaving up hurricanes.

Cats bouncing off the walls of asylums. Cats converting to Islam. Cats reading the Koran. Cats worshipping the original Isis. Cats embracing polytheism.

Cats everywhere. Cats in the fireplace, huddling together to form furry flames. Cats warming up the house for winter.

Cats laughing all the way to the bank. Cats campaigning to be on the $50 bill. Cats painting themselves onto butterfly wings. Cats soaring through the skies. Cats crashing into skyscrapers. Cats calling 911.

Cats everywhere, including my hair. Cats teasing it into a 80’s-style nest to attract Hitchcock birds. Cats making me go bald.

Cats nowhere. Cats killed by cat haters. Cats ascending to the heavens. Cats becoming gods and goddesses. Cats zapping the haters with Zeusian thunderbolts. Cats cackling wickedly.

Cats reincarnating into more cats, and multiplying again and again and again.

copyright 2016 Alison Ross