Dr. Hurley’s Digest, Vol. III, Issue 11

Some great poetry this week. If you missed it, check out the goodies below.

 

Wednesday – Poetry

  • Plop by Holly Painter

Friday – Poetry

 

More coming this week, including some Smithsonian work from editor EEJ.

Advertisements

Something Something

“Something something,”
says my niece when the power of her brain sparks
too bright for words—
expressions, idioms, understandings, you name it.
She works the somethings into conversation—
a meme for me now
to which I stack up my bests,
thankful for my matter.

Something something
happened once and now
I’d rather talk about
anything else.
There’s something
like a hope curve, says science—
a burst of cure between the lines,
the thin white space of unknown,
something something.

* * * * *

Marcella Hammer is a writer and an entrepreneur. She lives in San Francisco and enjoys mountain biking, running and good German beer. Follow her on Twitter @marhammer. Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Dr. Hurley’s Digest, Vol. III, Issue 9

Some great photography and poetry kept us entertained this week, from Nika Ostby and Marcella Hammer. You should read and look at them, if you didn’t have a chance already!


Monday – Photography

Wednesday – Poetry

We have some fiction by a Snake-Oil veteran, Jude Joseph Lovell, as well as poetry from John Grey and photos from Nicolas Bruno next week!

The Immortals

The world ends in fire and all remaining Immortals
drift out from the wreckage, like a Saturday on a lazy river.
“Ride it, like a wave. Like you have an epic hangover,”
says Kali to a stunned coyote that drifts past
as the universe bounces us back out again.
We all cross paths, sometimes—
each shouting a message—
and listen sharp to every glorious hint of sound.
“Patience was wasted on the mortals,”
says Cerberus—I think it was him,
and Venus sang a pretty song.

Eventually,
it stops.
Some of us problem solve the next part—
find each other again,
wrecks and other junk from—

Time is just there, sometimes,
a stink you can’t get out of.
“Why did Death get so thin?”
I ask one of the sun gods whose name I can’t remember—
they all look the same to me.
We stand on the beach and watch as everyone arrives—
only it’s more a cliff overlooking nothing at all.
Stars and clouds of new matter lap at our ankles and swirl past.
He nods his heads and pretends to hear me over the sound,
which is not sound so much as—

There’s always an adjustment period.
I decide to find Venus.
She didn’t look half bad, considering,
and there’s a certain joy to be had by forgetting.

* * * * *

Marcella Hammer is a writer and an entrepreneur. She lives in San Francisco and enjoys mountain biking, running and good German beer. Follow her on Twitter @marhammer. Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Santa Rosa

Can’t find a man
who will love me right
and there’s no train
to Santa Rosa.

The sun sets the same
with the same gold light
every night and
I pray we’re not over.

He will not leave
and I will not stay—
and the sunsets alone
are distracting.

But I chose a river
while he, on the rails,
in the spin of the landscape
forgot me.

* * * * *

Marcella Hammer is a writer and an entrepreneur. She lives in San Francisco and enjoys mountain biking, running and good German beer. Follow her on Twitter @marhammer. Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Let it Go

Don’t listen to the ones
telling you how
to live your life—
just listen to how
they lived.

The dead stay dead—
though, I too watch
those late night shows where
ghosts are hunted with
gadgets and handheldometers.

At the end, a good set
of directions are nice—
but I say float like dust
or a bug into the heavens—
avoiding planes and birds.

* * * * *

Marcella Hammer is a writer and an entrepreneur. She lives in San Francisco and enjoys mountain biking, running and good German beer. Follow her on Twitter @marhammer. Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Regeneration

No one
has seen my body
without scars.

You see,
one night some men
followed me home
and they had a knife,
a sharp one.

To watch a wound heal
is to look God in the eye—
but really,
glance slyly at His face
as you grow, grow, grow.

The last tingles of life
slip and give way
to the dull hum
of what the starfish
must feel when
a ghost arm again
becomes an arm!

* * * * *

Marcella Hammer is a writer and an entrepreneur. She lives in San Francisco and enjoys mountain biking, running and good German beer. Follow her on Twitter @marhammer. Her other contributions to Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Dr. Hurley’s Digest, Week 19

  • This week was a SCORCHER at Dr. Hurley HQ and also on the blog itself!  What fantastic content!  But before we get to that, a couple of Announcements!

Announcement № 01: 100 Word Story Winners!

It’s woefully overdue, but Congratulations to the winners of our 100 word story contest!

Readers’ Choice:

Editors’ Choices:

Each of you will be receiving a beautiful hand-letterpressed print of Dr. Hurley’s anti-tedium manifesto, suitable for framing and feeling proud of yourself!


Announcement № 02: Another Contest!

As you may know, the Dr. Hurley crew is bundling off to Ireland to dig up some more information about Dr. Hurley’s roots, his spa, and his eventual departure for America (by way of the Orient, we’re learning).  While in Ireland, we’ve always been greatly amused by the names of places we come across.  Some funny, some over-long, some downright bizarre, they all set our imaginations going.

What we want from you: A 100 word fictional etymology or brief history of an Irish place with an odd or otherwise interesting name.  Suggested names are below, but feel free to pull out an atlas of Ireland and find your own!  Also, we’ve put the Anglicized names here, but feel free to use the actual Irish names, if you like!

Winners will be chosen again, and you will be receiving a stunning prize as well!  (Guess what!)  And remember, linguistic/historical research will not be rewarded as much as imagination!

Deadline: NOON on Saturday, July 23, but earlier would be better.

Irish place names, to get you started:

    • Belgooly
    • Carrickfergus
    • Bloody Foreland
    • Derrynasaggart
    • Knockmealdown
    • Ballybunnion
    • Mullaghareirk
    • Dingle
    • Knockboy
    • Ballinskellig
    • Aughty
    • Slieve
    • Coolgreen
    • Rascalstreet
    • Turnaspidogy
    • Ringarogy Island
    • Glandore

And now, here’s what you missed this week:

Words

Pictures

100 Words: The Travelers

.
om is strong enough to walk for weeks after her trips. She remembers her parents, old loves, the smell of pineapple fields at noon. “Money can’t buy time, but it can buy time travel,” she says. “And it’s my money.”

The Travelers follow up with house visits. “They’re like Gandhi,” she says, even when people start coming back wrong, phantom limbs then whole bodies gone missing. The Travelers promise, smile, shake her hands. She travels on Tuesday to June, 1967, Savannah. She won’t say why. “Leave me. I’ll miss you,” she says, and the Travelers have a contract ready.

by Marcella Hammer

Dear John

While waiting for you
to grease a neglected chain,
I chipped my front tooth
on the hard plastic lip of a water bottle.
Oh, then I hated you.
I spit the shard of my enamel
onto the driveway
and kept my mouth shut.

I was born with the potential
for that tooth!—
back in the silent times
before signs took root
before the world held
nothing, nothing, nothing.
I could weave straw
into baskets or gold
and either would be a better use
for what is now on your driveway.

We test each other,
man and woman—
and I could never love
a man whose bike
needs a kickstand.