KLIPSPRINGER

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Steiner on Silence

"Possessed of speech, possessed by it, the word having chosen the grossness and infirmity of man's condition for its own compelling life, the human person has broken free from the great silence of matter. Or, to use Ibsen's image: struck with the hammer, the insensate ore has begun to sing.

...If speaking man has made of the animal his mute servant or enemy—the beasts of the field and forest no longer understand our words when we cry for help—man's control of the word has also hammered at the door of the gods."

- George Steiner, Language & Silence

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"Established in 1950, Kettle of Fish is a neighborhood bar in Greenwich Village that welcomes all, from Beat poets to Packer fans."

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loot

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Catch Up

Natalia Guled

  Jordan says the money. I say the money what. Jordan says the money can't be for ketchup. I say what can the money be for. Jordan says for the mustard. He laughs. The mustard he says. I look away because I don't see the the ketchup or the mustard or the money. Jordan said I have different eyes. He is right. I have two eyes and each one isn't the other but they're two.

  I say Jordan how you gonna make the red sauce if you don't know how. Jordan says forget the ketchup I'll make mustard. I say but then what's the money for. Jordan says Oh Shauna.

  Jordan I say Jordan. Oh Shauna.

  Jordan I say Jordan you don't know what to make. Jordan says you don't know what you make. Jordan I say Jordan the ketchup and mustard are two and each one isn't the other but they're two.

Oh Shauna. Jordan says my name. I say let me see your recipe. No Shauna. Jordan says my name. I say can we play. Can we play with the red sauce. Jordan says the tomatoes are fruit and he doesn’t want to melt them into red sauce anymore. He doesn't want to play. I say Jordan what's the money for. Jordan says the money is for fruit. I say can we buy red grapes. I can step on them and make juice with my two feet. I can make wine but we have to wait. Jordan doesn't want to play. Jordan's hand hits the stove. The hands hit the pot and the pot hits the floor and the red hits the white and black and my eyes can't see because now there is three.

  Jordan I say Jordan. There's three? No Shauna. She left.

  I know there is three but Jordan can't see. Jordan can't see anything but the red. Jordan says her bad word. Her name. I cry and say Jordan but I say it loud. Jordan says she went to the store but she didn't come back and she never went and now there is no ketchup.

  Jordan I say Jordan. Yes Shauna.

  Did you know that ketchup is bad for your tummy and then your heart and then your body. Because did you know that sugar is bad for your tummy and then your heart and then your body. Ketchup has a lot of sugar in it. Did you put sugar in the recipe. Jordan says he never realized ketchup was sweet but it is and so is fruit.

  Jordan I say Jordan. Yes Shauna.

    Tomatoes aren't sweet.

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third issue of an excellent young journal that gave a great reading in Brooklyn last night, feat. Chelsea Hodson, Cori Winrock, Emily Toder, & LaTasha Diggs. thanks!

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"I believe in inspiration, which in creative writing discussions often gets short shrifted vis-à-vis ideas of hard, daily effort. But something uninspired will never recover from that original condition, no matter how much labor one pours into it."

  Oldie/goodie status.

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KLIPSPRINGER FLASH FICTION GUIDELINES

Klipspringer's Tumblr is open to flash fiction and prose poetry! Here's the deal:

  - 750wds max

- specify "tumblr submission" in the subject line

- that's it

  Submit!

[email protected]

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unabridged is the new v-neck

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Does This Make Me Look Cool

Molly Bradley

  What if I misspelled your name on purpose? What if I called you the wrong name (and neglected to make clear whether or not it was on purpose)? What if I turned to you, in a moment when you were being perfectly composed and completely normal, and told you to calm down? What if I laughed at you when you told me where your parents lived? What if I said absolutely nothing about it and changed the subject? What if I stared at you until you made eye contact with me and then promptly looked away? You’re right, that’s too weird. That would seem like I thought you looked cool.

  What if I never allowed anyone to take a picture of me facing the camera, smiling, posing in any way, and instead only allowed photographs of me in older musty clothing with a kind of ugh do you smell that I think the sink is clogged mouth thing going on through a cracked lens in places people don’t really go to hang out except if they’re having pictures taken of them – shallow stagnant lakes and ugly sparse woods and diners that aren’t diners in order to be diners, with neon lights refurbished and menu items available gluten-free, but actual diners where people need to go because they can’t necessarily afford to go anywhere else? What if I acted like I couldn’t afford to go anywhere else? What if I collected those photographs so that I’d have something ready when I am a famous author/painter/scholar/subway performance artist? No, I don’t think I’d want to perform in the subway, I’d get too sweaty. What if I were strategically sweaty?

  What if we dated for a long time and the whole time I acted like it wasn’t that serious? What if we dated and I made fun of you in public? What if I told you I was kidding, but kept doing it? What if I got bored? What if I broke your heart and gave you no other reason for it other than that I was bored? What if I broke my own heart? What if I told everyone about it? What if I didn’t tell anyone about it?

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klip's new (york) digs

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Not Writing

Jessica Widner

  Two hours later they are still seated, still drinking, his hand on her forearm, just lightly. He has not yet asked her how her writing is going. She gives him a slight compliment on his prolificacy.

  “You’ve seen my latest play?”

  “God, no.” Laughter. A social cue. He leans forward and asks her, seriously, as if his question was one of gravity, would she like to get out of here?

Why not. She’ll do this; she’ll do that.

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a lack of letters is  o excuse  ot to write

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ISSUE 4: CIRCULARITY

Klipspringer is now open to submissions for its fourth issue. The theme is "circularity." Send us all things fine and fearsome by August 10th.

We look forward to reading your work!