Tag Archives: When I Die Someone Just Fuck My Body Please

Our Most-Viewed Pieces of 2017 Were…

Eyes – Nuri Iyem, 1979

Before we set our sights completely on 2018, let’s look at the pieces from 2017 that attracted the most eyeballs to our site…

10. “When I Die Someone Just Fuck My Body Please,” Ian Kappos’ punker-than-hell poem from our Summer 2017 issue.

9. “Picnic” A. E. Weisgerber’s potent & evocative flash fiction which served as the opening piece of our killer & cinematic Spring 2017 issue.

8. “Drought,” Kim Coleman Foote’s eerily surreal & fable-like flash prose which kicked off our Fall 2017 issue.

7. “Summer Water,” one of two witty & intoxicating poems by Sarah Bridgins in our Summer 2017 issue.

6. “Mission Concept,” Pete H.Z. Hsu’s trippy & unearthly (and Best of the Net-nominated) flash fiction that launched our Summer 2017 issue.

5. “Caulking the Wagon,” Devin Kelly’s poetic meditation on suffering & classic computer games, from our Summer 2017 issue.

4. “Love Song of a Femme Fatale on Scholarship,” Maria Pinto’s frisky & infatuating flash fiction from our Winter 2017 issue.

3. “Torture Game”, Ryan Bradford’s fiendish short fiction about a dark night at the drive-in, from our Spring 2017 issue.

2. “Left Behind,” Kaj Tanaka’s brief yet profoundly haunting flash fiction, and the grand finale of our Summer 2017 issue.

1. “The Cake,” Jonathan Wlodarski’s deliciously disturbing (and Pushcart Prize-nominated) short fiction from our Winter 2017 issue.

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“When I Die Someone Just Fuck My Body Please” – Poetry by Ian Kappos

Mannequin de Salvador Dali – Raoul Ubac

“When I Die Someone Just Fuck My Body Please” is Ian Kappos‘ punker-than-hell poem from our Summer 2017 issue.

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NO CHECKERED FLAG FOR ME as carsick I       cross the divide the
closest there is       on this side of town to a demilitarized
zone between the living       & the dead         I       watch an obese
woman lean over a gravestone drawing thru straw unmarked cup stomach
turns     liver face up       kidneys & jelly knees I’m       not sure if we’re
even related       in the chapel outrageously symmetrical floors a big brave
fuck you to disorder take   that death/ now I need to learn real fast how
to hug a man you know the type     strong concrete beer-gut good humor
lives at the race track fresh oil change eyes
bends             left in grief       we’re all of us staring at the body burping up
lies how beautiful the blouse is & happy but she looks
terrible I mean what sick roughshod     imitation of life is this/  well, case:
roadblock anatomy weird ditches around lips those teeth
pushing eager like I did my time let me out Dali
clock ears & nose in eternal flux of smelling obscene
smell (that’s formaldehyde baby & it’s gonna
cost you)          it just doesn’t       add up, face erasure the glasses
for everyone else’s sake &     you’d be kidding
yourself to think otherwise/ old man
shoulders quivering now saying      how he
fell asleep           by the casket       & dreamt I thought she & I’d just
hop right up &                    get out of here.             & it hits me then
the flowers       shitty carpets canned          flute music CD & pickled
grief repeating       void whistling          closed inside the straw why even
pretend/ I’m no iron       stomach is the woman at
the gravestone dead yet am I a fucking mannequin how       will
death animate me       fuck all the post-haste posthumous let’s just
go for a            joyride you & me/       get younger while the time is ripe

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IAN KAPPOS was born and raised in Northern California. To date, over thirty of his works of short fiction, nonfiction and poetry have been published online and in print. He plays in the hardcore punk band Cross Class and co-edits Milkfist, and is an MFA candidate in the School of Critical Studies at California Institute of the Arts. He maintains a website at www.iankappos.net.