BRILLIANT SHIT

Vacation

2009-08-19T13:06:00.003-04:00

Sharon took a slow deep breath of the foreign air and a faint smile rose her cheeks heavenward. White clouds sailed on a blue canvas and the sun flickered on and off.
A light wind blew her skirt a little and she pressed her arms against her legs. She walked towards the water and knelt down stretching her palm flat on the ground. "The grass here is so green and beautiful!". Matthew was standing behind her and his shadow shaded her small figure. "Honey, I don't think that's grass."

By Timothy Poovey

Convalescence

2009-07-28T22:21:00.001-04:00

KISS KISS KISS

Convalescence

2009-07-28T21:44:00.001-04:00

LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN

Crystal Clear

2009-07-28T16:41:00.008-04:00

On Monday he went on a walk in the woods.
He left the path, and walked where the briars were thick.
Pushing his body through a doorway of thorns,
he discovered something unusual.

77 feet tall at the tip of it's delicate spire,
turning only as the breeze seemed to permit;
a carousel made of blown glass enshrined
in the root structure of the oak and pine trees
that made a ballroom of the forest.

There was only one animal on the carousel,
and it was a panther posed in a gentle prowl.

He knew not to touch it, the glass was very thin.
He left the woods intending to keep it only as a memory.

***

Weeks went by and he drank with his friends.
They had fun and talked each about the events of their own lives.
His intentions of forgetting faded, and he thought of it every day.
It became all he could talk about, and he wanted to show them.
His best friend came with him first into the woods.
He remembered every step of the way.

In what was left of the evening sun they came into the ballroom,
the last light glinting on the top of it's tallest part.
He let out a deep breath and smiled.
His friend could not see it at all.

One by one he brought all of his friends to this place
which at this point, he was visiting daily.
None of them could see it,
but they were good friends, so they would drink and listen
to him describe that with which he was so enamored.

****

Months went by and his friends grew tired of the same adventure.
They told him it was a fantasy
and did not want to go with him any more.

On Sunday, the boy disappeared into the woods.
Sitting alone in front of it, waiting for the breeze to make it spin.
He and it belonged to, and were a part of each other.
Weeks went by and he often thought of walking closer, even touching it.

His friends were worried and came looking for him.
They knew where to go.
They left him food and water.
The boy had become as intangible and ghostly as his fantasy.

In the morning he walked over to it.
Though he was nervous of disrupting it's balance
He forced his hand towards it.
Centimeters away however, he felt as though
he were betraying his relationship with this beautiful object
and stopped himself.

After weeks of sitting near it, eating what his friends brought him
he began to hate it, but couldn't look away.

***

It was the middle of the night.
The moon was reflecting in the eyes of the panther.
A bright sensation rushed over the boy's body and
leaping to his feet, he ran towards the carousel.

The moon was behind the clouds.
The crashing was invisible in the darkness.
He spent the next 3 nights
bleeding in the dirt.
The ballroom was vacant and ordinary.

His friends found him a few days later,
laying by the stream that wound
through the woods.

They could see the cuts, but not the glass.
They stitched him up and in the next days
made him healthy.

For a while he kept some of the invisible pieces
on the mantle above his fire place:
the panther's paw, and the whiskers that were removed from his side.
He kept them right next to a fish he had caught,
it was bigger than you and me.

by justin hantz

Guyku #1

2009-07-22T15:34:00.001-04:00

My bedroom is hot
Beads of sweat roll down your cheek
And land in my lap

By Timothy Poovey

Blake Butler

2009-07-22T15:26:00.001-04:00

Their Little Secret

2009-07-21T14:44:00.003-04:00

Each pumpkin that glowed bright orange on the porches streamed up and down the street and made Charlie think of his neighborhood as one big Christmas tree as he sped along on his bike. The clicks of the playing card he had stuck in his spokes came to a halt at the old abandoned mansion that towered in front of him. It's rotten foundation and broken windows looked like an old mean face. The rustling leaves were the soundtrack and somewhere a gate was opening and closing. Mary parked her bike beside him and they gazed silently at the haunted house. They were a very cute ghost couple there in the night. Charlie took Mary's hand and they walked in the front door timidly. It was dark and empty except for old furniture and grandfather clocks covered in silver cobwebs. Mary whispered through her sheet "I think I heard something upstairs." They climbed the creaky steps carefully. Charlie pushed open the door to the master bedroom and tip toed over to the dresser. There was a small picture frame on it that contained an old photograph of Mr.Driftwood. This had once been his home. Charlie and Mary stared at his face through the dust it had collected. He removed his satchel and placed the small frame inside. Charlie thought "Now we have proof." They looked at each other through their eyeholes and knew the other was smiling too. They left the mansion and mounted their bikes. Mary said "Lets go smash some pumpkins!" and they rode off in the brisk Halloween night laughing and shouting. Later on when they were married they would tell their children this story every Halloween as a tradition. They left out the part about smashing pumpkins though. That was their little secret.

By Timothy Poovey

Eggs benedict

2009-06-06T13:55:00.002-04:00

A little runny but overall not bad.

By Timothy Poovey

Old Turkey was not an elegant bird.

2009-05-27T17:04:00.007-04:00

Walking like he just woke up, Old Turkey came down the mountain.

Dumb and violent, scratching the dirt road with his feet.

His eyes, yellow and as always bloodshot.

I thought I remembered him being smaller.

He stared at my window

taking interest, walking toward it.

I thought he saw me but Im not sure

He pecked at my window

His fingernails yellowed from tobacco.

I moved away and his gaze didn't follow me.

Too old and blind.

Like an elaborately delusional bully,

he was fighting his own reflection.

I ran at the window to scare him off.

My face and his reflection merged.

He grew and spread his useless wings

beating their feathers against my window,

in what was an attempt to make a failed escape

look like an attack.

I cant believe I am involved with him

enough to laugh at his failure.

It's maybe more out of relief

that I had flinched at something stupid.

maybe it's pity or something else,

regardless, I'm laughing.

Whatever. Ill get him some bread.

He was pacing around in the rain,

yelling unintelligible things from

his pink dinosaur throat.

He actually saw me this time.

menacingly he paced toward me.

lower to the ground

like I couldn't see him hunting.

I broke the bread and gave him some.

He looked up. Mouth Open

the bread fell and his posture didn't change.

Hypnotized, he had never considered

where the rain came from.

It wasnt the epiphany that killed him,

He choked to death on the weather.

His huge wet frustrated body, dead in my yard.

Dont things smell less in the rain?

I thought I remembered him being smaller.

Old Turkey was not an elegant bird.

by justin hantz

A story for Gus

2009-03-09T19:05:00.004-04:00

It was somewhere in the midwest, I dont remember where.

somewhere flat, I dont remember when. Around 1900.

It was a monday. Late afternoon.

She walked down the same dirt road she walked down to get to the market

only this time she was going to see the fair. She was dressed for a summer fair,

hair pulled back, polkadot dress. about 14. Her mother said it was okay.

As it got dark the fair described it's place with lights and music in the distance.

When she got there it was magic, everybody in town was there. Alot of people

Alot of rides and alot of salesmen.

They sold everything from bicycles to goldfish in a bowl. They sold apple pies and

baseballs. America and the new way of life.

One Salesman caught her attention with his pitch.

He promised to sell her something she had never seen before. Something

she had never dreamed of. Oh but maybe this wasn't for her, she didn't look like a dreamer.

What would she do with it anyway?

She insisted otherwise and walked into the tent where he uncovered a cage

full of tiny zoo animals. Monkeys, Lions, and of course Giraffes all that could

fit in the palm of her hand.

"Nice right? modern science, go ahead, hold one"

she picked up a giraffe and put it in her palm.

the giraffe screamed from the pressure.

"I didn't know giraffes made sounds"

"In nature, nothing picks them up by their heads. please be careful."

"sorry"

she put the animal back on the table and started out the door

"Not interested?"

"not really, my dad takes me to the zoo upstate and the ones there are more impressive"

"but these fit in your hand, it's a miracle really"

"who cares about miracles?"

" you're a spoiled little girl"

"well, you're a drunk."

She stormed out of the tent and walked all the way home

a little zebra followed her and when she got home

she put it in a cage next to her goldfish,

and neither one knew what to think of the other.

by justin Hantz

Now Im Ted

2009-03-09T18:32:00.003-04:00

by Justin Hantz

Catcher's Mitt

2009-03-09T18:11:00.002-04:00

a hundred years ago young men did as they were told

I was told to go over the hills to Matney to work for Mr. Carver

It was a long trek and I never made it.

I spent five days wandering in the woods

drinking from the creek and eating fruit from the trees.

It wasnt quite autumn and the leaves were just starting to turn

I whistled aimlessly and caught a few crawfish under a rock

funny little lobsters, I wondered how they made it this far

I got bit by a horse fly, he wouldnt let go of my body

I jumped in the water and drowned him

One day late in the evening a stranger passed by me

he was old and had a face like a catchers mitt.

I dont know if he was lost too, he didnt say anything

we were whistling the same song.

by Justin Hantz

TOLDYOUSO

2009-03-09T17:51:00.001-04:00

by Justin Hantz

McKibbin

2009-02-28T22:46:00.005-05:00

Living in you

was like living

in a hero's tear

that fell 4000 feet

and landed in

the oldest landfill

because he couldn't

save the world

By Timothy Poovey

Johns Dog

2009-02-22T19:47:00.006-05:00

He will sit with us patiently

until we are ready

to leave

We are proud of ourselves

when we teach him

to shake

He is grateful that we love him

but who couldn't love such

a good dog?

Golden fur like the hair

of one hundred

new babies

A loyalty as beautiful as any

woman could be

it is pure

Sleeping for the day to disappear

until John is home

to be happy

One bark says everything

he needs to say

to us

What his eyes don't know

does not matter

shouldn't

There is a place for him

in the ground when

he dies

By Timothy Poovey

Valentines Day

2009-02-14T17:33:00.004-05:00

I was at bar alone.

Getting drunk.

When in walks the love of my life.

I wished.

By Timothy Poovey

Animals In The Night

2009-02-13T16:49:00.006-05:00

I lived in a haunted house once.

But the ghost there was nice.

He liked to sing.

At night, especially when it was stormy out, I would see him float around.

And hear him.

Once, I tried to talk to him.

I crept into the living room, where he always was.

He looked at me as if I was the ghost.

I asked him "Are you scared of me?".

He said "No.

But You should be scared of me.".

"Why?"

"Because I am a ghost."

"I'm not though." I said.

Then I felt the need to add "You seem nice is all."

I think this was disappointing to him

He kept looking at me for a moment.

Then he slowly lowered his eyes to the floor.

Very quietly, he began to sing again.

His voice sounded like animals in the night.

"What are you singing?" I asked.

He looked back up at me and said "It's a sad song."

By Timothy Poovey

She Is A Dreamer

2009-02-07T16:58:00.005-05:00

Over there in the grass

you are asleep on your side

the sun is shining on your black hair

I walked towards the tree in the field

It is a very big tree

When I climbed it's branches

I could see for miles

I could see the house that we walked from

and it's blue paint that turned green from the sunlight

I sat on a branch for while and thought

this is what the world looks like to birds

You must have been very tired

because you slept very long

When I got down from the tree

I went back to you

I sat down and surveyed the large field

The wind was blowing your dress

and it revealed your knees

that glowed

You looked so safe

and I wondered

what you were dreaming about

My hand

slid down your pink cheek

and you awoke

You

looked into my eyes

and said with a calm smile

"I love you"

by Timothy Poovey

Paper Sailboat

2009-02-04T17:36:00.004-05:00

There is a pretty girl

standing in the street

her tongue is sticking out

as she catches snowflakes upon it

from my apartment above her

I am singing a song

it travels into her ears

and our eyes meet

she begins to walk away

and I yell at her to stay

she smiles, but does not

I shut my window

In the street there is silence

I listen but hear nothing

her footprints are etched in snow

I place my foot carefully in each one

they lead off into woods

the darkness makes them hard to follow

the last one is on a river bank

where did she go?

There is a paper sailboat

drifting on the water

It left a childs hand

who wanted to see it sail

by Timothy Poovey

First and for most

2009-01-25T01:03:00.002-05:00

Brilliant Shit is a collaborative effort between Justin Hantz and Timothy Poovey using the medium of blogging as a means to share creative output. Songs, Short Stories, Poems, Films, Essays and General Critique make up most of the material that will be submitted. Exercise is an important part of any kind of artistic endeavor, that is to say, practice. A story will be posted, critiqued and a corrected or "influenced" version will be uploaded. Alot of the time we agree on certain aesthetic decisions, but not all of the time, so this will be a way to help each other and ourselves. This is where you, the reader come in. Through our sacrifice, that is to say admission of having several versions or bad ideas or good ideas etc.. you too will learn the virtues of both practice and shamelessness. We will deal largely with the objective of sharing with an audience an uncensored, sometimes even unfinished, ideation. Input is encouraged. For without the reader writing would simply be a subjective experience in which there are no subjects. This will ultimately serve also as a recorded history of development in craft. Words are groups of symbols which are imbued with power to relate everything about the human experience to another human. Why then do we have so many words for some things, and in turn lack a single word for others? Why is it that two words grouped together can illustrate something to which neither applies? The word Brilliant dates back to 1696 and is defined as very bright and distinguished by unusual mental alertness. The word Shit comes from the early fourteenth century and simply means an act of defecation.