The Art of Tetman Callis

racing bike, front wheel—pavement discrepancy—welts,bruises, spitting teeth. (Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 9, No. 37, Sep. 14-20, 2000. Copyright 2000, 2023 by Tetman Callis.)

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If I could paintthe most necessary paintinga portrait settingthe Dutch Masters to shame it would be you If I could have my fingers playin perfect rhythms and changes acrossthe strings and fretsa pure and balanced melody it would be you If I could make myfeet to moveand carry me across the floorwith grace and sureness […]

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You:Sitting in the sun,smoking, doingthe crossword puzzleon your lap. Me:Stumbling by,unwashed and hungover,passing rancid gas. Luckily, downwind. (Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 8, No. 6, Feb. 11-17, 1999. Copyright 1999, 2023 by Tetman Callis.)

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She said, “You’re cuteand everything,but save your crystals and auras— You want to talkmagicwith me, lover-boy, give me yourfractal componentsof the self-replicatinginflationary universe, or give me youromnidirectional time-lineof subatomic particles,or give me your imaginary numberin the tachyon formula— or fuck it, just shut upand give me your tongue.” (Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 8, No. […]

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Children in a trench, crouchingwith faces upturned—England during the war. One girl, oldest of the lotsomewhere in her teensopen-collared shirt, sweaterwith a hole, dark hairpulled back from her browcovering ears; dark eyeshopeful and anxiousin a face of timeless beauty—a face made for falling foracross an oceanacross time. She would be olderthan my motherif she’s evenstill […]

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do something to me. tell mehow happy you are tosee me. see melooking at you lookingaround the room to seewhoever else you may knowwho may be here. smile. do something to me. tell mehow well you’ve been doing—it’s been a long time.you lookgreat (your hat is cute). your hairis so much longer now; straighter,too. it […]

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pants down around my legs,shirt unbuttoned—the stink of my sweat—i walk with small steps,shoes untied. the sun is coming up. (Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 7, No. 6, Feb. 11-17, 1998. Copyright 1998, 2023 by Tetman Callis.)

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Snapshotsreturned from the drugstore today—Come see!My angel,Italian with a moustache and passion enoughfor two—for ten! The whole town!Her hand on my leg, my handon hers, then; Pink Baltic Hand,meet Brown Adriatic Hand—shake. Here, she sits at picnic tableand eats—a pieceof her chocolate birthday cake.“Is it my chocolate birthday, then?” Seehow she holds the white plasticfork […]

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hey—you like poetry? wellsometimes it’s all i can doto keep from killing myself rhyme that (Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 5, No. 5, Feb. 7-13, 1996. Copyright 1996, 2023 by Tetman Callis.)

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come back to me now as I knew you then (Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 5, No. 5, Feb. 7-13, 1996. Copyright 1996, 2023 by Tetman Callis.)

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Valentine and SpiderFucking on the couch—Spider works his mandibles,Valentine cries, “Ouch!” Book-lung’s punk inside her,Sowing next year’s crop—When he lets his poison flow,Valentine grunts, “Stop!” Our arachnid rides her,Thinking “Stop!” means “Go!”—His Valentine’s a girl known forConfusing “Suck” with “Blow.” Done, old eight-legs hides herUnderneath the stair—He says, “My wife, she doesn’t likeFish; it fugs […]

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light from the next roomone loose strand of her long hairher hand, mine, her touch (Published in Weekly Alibi, Vol. 5, No. 5, Feb. 7-13, 1996. Copyright 1996, 2023 by Tetman Callis.)

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Coming up next, anyone could, then, in a working real-life family,believe women could not have children. What are we, a beer? Ah, thanks. Thinking myname behind it, the right side changing direction, I’ve beenworking all summer just to try and learn a holler,as well as the first word: Stingrays don’t attack humans. You are home […]

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snails make the most disgusting soundwhen they’re crunching underfoot it’s a wet, fleshy crunch,light on the crackle component somewhat exotic and french,in that regard still, one wouldn’t want to walkabout in the grassbarefooted after it rains,when there are scores of snails in the yardmany of them up by the houseright in front of the doors […]

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chicago’s the dumpy onenobody ever asks her out and nobody’s ever going toexcept maybe that guythe one who works for the plumbershe doesn’t have anything to wearit’s like trying to dress a potato her sister new york’s the one who got all the looksnice figure too and lots of stylelots of tastealways well dressed and […]

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after work todayi sat in a chair on the balconyand read a book a drying blue flowerfell out of the skyand landed at my feet (Copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)

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this is the bbc news, the real thing,coming at the top of the hourimmediately after a broadcast of the can-candedicated to an old guy for his birthday (he turns 86) okay, here it is, here goes couple robbed and murdered on their honeymoon opposition politicians circle for the kill scores of people killed in a […]

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yesterday was my daughter’s thirty-fourth birthday.my eldest child, born while i was still in high school. at the start of our dinner yesterday evening, my third wife and iraised our wine glasses and drank a toast to this daughter.while we ate we watched a movie on the magic talking box,a movie about a businessman and […]

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if there’s nothing new under the sun,should our searchings be confined to the shadows? in the shaded places would we have any hope to findcrystals that might in the open reflect and refractcolors we could never name? our world is old and dying. our words echo down empty wells. something scurries in the darkness. we […]

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you reach a certain age, you think aboutdeath all the time. not that it’s an obsession.it’s a companion, with you while you walkalong the sidewalk, cars speeding past youdown the street, inches away (inchesaway). with you when you cross the street(jaywalking? against the light?). with you whileyou ride your ten-speed bike (not fast enough,your bike, […]

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you think it’s romanticyou thinkit’s romantic that too drunk to getoff the couchswilling beer whiskey cheap winemornings afternoons you thinkit’s romantic that too drunk to getoff the floor in front of the t.v.the baby’s crying his diaper soppingwet so romantic so poetic wellyou go live ityou go live ityou tell me how romanticyou go live […]

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yard full of dogsbarking two houses downany and all hours of the night one dozen local cats (give or take)fighting spitting yowlingscreeching spats in syncopationwith the yard of dogs snoring wifeshe subvocalizes toosometimes even calls outwords she never hears middle-aged bladderparked atop my piss-pipedemanding attentive relief in the dark this has gone on for monthssecret […]

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i had the desert, it was minewhen the plates were flying across the kitchen to smash against the wallsi had the desertit was mine to escape to and to wander inits vast empty skyhot sun burning my pale pink skinwhirling dust devilstall khaki columns against the clear blue skydusty sand of quartz and limestoneround black […]

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not at all (for he does exude a regal air).pick a name: pie eye, a stock name for drab mob. areopagite, receive time, foe.bitten, i’m odd.date, name, i said.did you attempt it?weakling, not an artificer, is at tollhouse,is yearning not to yearn (alibi). law, house, and towndone gone and hit the riser.dew-daddy said, she, son, […]

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you rot.i retch. date, try to scream. i covet,got cot, and my hug flits wit, rends seam.(is nine; is late;say, oh, good evening, maw.) foist ads. hi ho,ha ha—lax game, yo mo-fo (hi ho). of old, my child, new egg,gut ohio, rust veal,later reign. nude, you saw salomé lie down, for by your love—no. i/you […]

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no stint.you lose elation, stench. sure, et al. is a moot clearing of throats. sit at tidynear dark. tut, tut—stay—lay—i’ll put on airs, sow a wave. to vid okay—kiss. (oh, toy! right!)rented door on this vaj, he dial you first.secure you die, exclaim, oh! lewd is rancid.(weak me, first nodding man.damn, be a capulet, capitulate […]

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pestilence, pustules you cause—nah. (sit tight, rap sill.)oh, i wedded it, lode caring hotly if i rob—or, by harm done, nettled steed swears slanders,coward to the dead. tuneful cadger, exhaling, exhuming,he starts it tough. oh, stay new. hot racingpushes my rate. i—i kid—i kiddle little loser(loser, right, yet the deed). on royal purple pus should […]

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mmmmmm . . . some folks like to glue shards back into pots.sometimes eros phones up, he says, it’s time to hammer. you pluck slag by laughing.do sigh, it suits a dream sadder than victory(i ate my cheerful hi!). i ought to grub for an enigmatic nod, humdrum, run detail, lose i.d. and cough. i […]

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if i be a whore for doing,seize not the cessation of day.see it (see it),hey it, nay it—or, sir, it’s a ninny’s to-do. even to nod to sin as it raps down heat (a pox potboils—excise it.), oh, hard by sad bed.enough of hi, my friend. cupped hands dial phone at ten(i might fear and […]

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ta . . .ta ta ta. i see your dripping distillations(i see your bait dangle).it’s half a tao, this tao. yuck. sat a bit, some sissy fuss, lynn eating.enough, aye, here. the rear rug cranium jig gives agony—so, have eight.have eye dew. you are a he-nine. are! i scream,i am your retro-nine! for riches’ fee […]

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