High Coup Journal - March 2011 Issue

(Photo by Ann Wright, Plymouth, IN)

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IN THIS ISSUE:

Dominique Allen (Terre Haute, IN)

William Cullen (Brooklyn, NY)

Christopher Dolle (Terre Haute, IN)

Bat-Ami Gordon (Antelope Valley, CA)

Amy Harris (West Lafayette, IN)

David Hollander (Bloomington, IN)

Chris Loft (Adelaide, Australia)

Jamie Lushbaugh (Terre Haute, IN)

Darcy McMurtery (Seattle, WA)

E. Joyce Moore (Indianapolis, IN)

Aaron Owens (Terre Haute, IN)

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Editor's Note:

Well folks, this issue
will be just a little weird...
please read why below:

I didn't set out to make High Coup Journal a political journal, but in the recent Twitter-storm of #libya and #egypt tags, I couldn't help but notice that some of them were in haiku form.  One might suggest that haiku isn't the most efficient way to share information about important breaking events, but one also might suggest that it is the best way to pack the most emotion into the fewest characters.  So we've tried to share some of those haiku in this issue along with preserving the merry whimsical madness we pride ourselves on here at the journal.

To those of you in North Africa: let us know if there's anything we can do to help.

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William Cullen

her yellow panties

on the tequila bottle

today's mardi gras

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David Hollander

let us hope for peace
as our Arab cousins pay
freedom's bloody price


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Jamie Lushbaugh


I blush at his touch,
which is awkward when married.
I still feel sixteen.


Daddy ignored you?
Live up to his standards, be
An asshole magnet.


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E. Joyce Moore

Possibilities
Dashed upon the shore of life
Riptide's waves its fate.


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Darcy McMurtery

The mirror speaks truth
and I reach for my eye cream.
Outside the crow laughs.


Lady Friends

When Grandpa started
banging floozies we didn’t
know what to call them.


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Amy Harris

Xenophobia
good fences make good neighbors
on the Rio Grande


Insomnia calls
every night, 2 a. m.
when the moon is bright


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Aaron Owens

Tso Very Tasty

Oh, General Tso!
Your noodles cut through my gut
Like a katana


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Dominique Allen

My future is writ
Upon quick-drying cement
Where's my jack hammer?


White frozen crystals
cake my car in icy sheets
Fuck you, troposphere.


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Chris Loft

Just one step away -
his supporters fade like dust -
wind blows in the sand


Rulers come and go - 
but in the markets and squares - 
people shall be free 


That man must go now - 
if he says he has no shoes - 
then he can have mine 


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Bat-Ami Gordon

this revolution
inspirational model
scares authorities


contagious revolution
contaminated regime
immunization


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March 2011 AWESOME SAUCE: Christopher Dolle

Snowflakes fuck and grow

Outside apartment windows,

While we lay in bed.

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Lion or a lamb?

Hell if we know.  Send in your

poems regardless.

highcoupjournal {at} gmail.com

High Coup Journal - July 2010 Issue

(Photo by Ann Wright, Plymouth, IN)

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IN THIS ISSUE:

Rosemary Foster (Bloomington, IN)

Marti Fuerst (Rapid City, SD)

Quinn Gilbert (Shelburne, VT)

Jacob Glenn

Aaron Owens (Terre Haute, IN)

Eli Van Sickel (Terre Haute, IN)

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Editor’s Note:

A time for new things,
like picking a new ice cream
or dropping the soap.

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Jacob Glenn

Feb. 23

balloon removal
can i borrow your blow gun?
goodbye helium

Feb. 23

oh my sweet coffee
make me a jitterbug pro
my blood is creamy

Jan. 19

I sip my coffee
say goodbye constipation
my bowels are moved

Jan. 19

such a peaceful rain
I do value your effort
but my grass is dead

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Aaron Owens

Tryst

Debbie can’t find out.
Long. Firm. White cream fills my mouth.
Gotta love Twinkies.

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Marti Fuerst

Mucus advances
seizing nasal passageways.
I wave white Kleenex.

Dog barks at darkness.
Alarm must be on the fritz.
Cyborg-vet needed.

Take solace in that
when the zombies rise to feed
these dopes will die first.

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Eli Van Sickel

Submitting this work
For your consideration
Please show me some love

Dog shit and flowers:
Two things that smell different
-ly to me at night.

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Quinn Gilbert

Signal from a Shattered Earth

Last vestige of us:
You the plumber?...Yeah babe, I'm
Here to lay some pipe.

Life

This is my treatise
on life, and it’s pretty deep:
Alarm clock rings…Fuck.

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Rosemary Foster

Hearing you have sex
Makes me want to fucking puke
So please mom shut up

OMG goth kids
Scary ass mother fuckers
Done up like corpses

Public swimming pool
Chemical filled oasis
Bikini clad whores

I know it says to
taste the rainbow but could you
stop licking my shirt?

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July 2010 AWESOME SAUCE: Aaron Owens

The Little Boy’s Nightmare

Surrounded by balls

A dozen sweaty bodies

Trapped in the “Ball Pit”

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Send in your haiku!

August won't just write itself

(unless I'm on crack)!

highcoupjournal {at} gmail.com