Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 07/26/21

The Church of Transient Anuses

I met a guy in the park
who claimed to have a transient anus.
I said what’s that?
He said I can form an anus
on any part of my body,
wherever I choose, whenever I want.
In fact, I can form multiple anuses at once.
All over.
So, to be clear, I said,
you don’t just have one transient anus.
You have the potential for many
transient anuses, depending upon
your needs and desires.
Correct, he said.
Bullshit, I said.
I’ll show you, he said.
He rolled up his sleeve,
and an anus appeared on his arm.
He made a fist, stretched out his arm,
and fertilized the flowers along the path.
Oh, my god, I said.
That’s nothing, he said.
He bowed forward.
A huge anus appeared on his forehead
and took a gigantic dump on my shoe.
Words failed me.
He offered me a bag from a device on his belt
to place the shit in, and a wet-wipe for my shoe.
He wiped his forehead and told me a story.
The earth, he began, has an infinite capacity
to produce transient anuses.
With these anuses, she spreads food and wisdom
to all her creatures.
Wisdom, I said. How do anuses spread wisdom?
Join me, and I’ll show you, he said.
Who are you? I said.
I, good sir, am a priest of the Church of Transient Anuses.
The Earth speaks to her children through the flatulence
and defecation of ministers such as myself
and you, should you choose to join me.
He held out a brochure. I declined, as politely as I could.
As I walked away, the man called out to me,
Have a shitty day, my friend! I considered, a moment,
before responding appropriately:
Same to you, you walking asshole!

©2021 Damian Ward Hey All rights reserved.

Damian Ward Hey

Damian Ward Hey has had poetry published in several places, including Poetry Pacific, Truck, and Cricket Online Review. More recently, his work has appeared in Madness Muse Press, and will appear in the upcoming anthology, Poets with Masks On. He lives on Long Island and is a professor of literature and theory at Molloy College.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 05/19/21

Last Will and Testament

Fuck a funeral!

Use the money you’d spend on mine

to celebrate the only proper way:

with drugs and alcohol.

You don’t even have to celebrate me,

just fuckin’ celebrate!

Or give the money to a good cause.

Just don’t give it to something boring,

like a church, please.

There’s enough reason in the world to be sad,

the inevitable shouldn’t be made worse by a

public display of platonic-necrophilia and tears.

No one should have to dress up and be miserable,

especially on my behalf.

I don’t wanna be buried,

cremate me!

Gimme to science!

Whatever!

I won’t give a fuck, I’ll be dead!

As my grandfather used to say,

“Shove a bone in my ass and have

the dogs drag me away.”

Well I got two assholes,

so I’ll need a shit ton of dogs.

Let graverobbers steal my body,

before it’s given over to the dirt,

like they did Lincoln’s,

and have a manhunt across the nation!

We’ll save them a step and a stop at

Home Depot for a shovel.

Don’t waste valuable land on wastes of space.

Build a hospital or a school.

Fuck it, I’d rather people frack or

build yuppie townhouses!

On a second thought,

I have one request,

please don’t fuck my corpse.

I don’t find it disrespectful,

just weird.

©2021 Joe Szalinski All rights reserved.

Joe Szalinski

Joe Szalinski is a writer & performer from Pittsburgh, PA. He attended Slippery Rock University for his undergrad in writing & literature. Since returning to his native Pittsburgh, he’s been busy performing comedy, acting, making music, and writing. His writing, both creative and academic, has appeared in Defenestration, The Howling Press, The Short Humour, PS It’s Poetry (an anthology), and RockScissorsPaper.