LESBIAN SEAGULL? FAGGOT DINOSAUR?

WATCH THIS VIDEO, THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS FOR ENGLEBERT HUMPERDINK, AND THEN I NEED TO HAVE A WORD WITH YOU.

TO ALL MY LGBTQ & HETERONORMATIVE  ALLY SEAGULLS–I HAVE A TASK FOR YOU!  IF WE CAN HAVE A LESBIAN SEAGULL, CAN’T WE HAVE A FAGGOT DINOSAUR?  I’M OFF TO TAKE COLD MEDICINE NOW AND THEN TO OUR SHOW IN SAN JOSE TONIGHT!

Deadline APRIL 15th, 2011

email all submissions to Ali Liebegott at friendofducks@hotmail.com

please put FAGGOT DINOSAUR SUBMISSION IN THE SUBJECT LINE

Fellow writers & visual artists (or both!) I’m writing to you because I’m compiling the first in what I hope is a series of chapbooks/zines I’m calling ARTISTS AMONG ARTISTS. ISSUE 1 is entitled Faggot Dinosaur. Basically, I wrote a poem called Faggot Dinosaur and sent it to a poet friend to read and he wrote me back an email and to my surprise he said, “I wrote a faggot dinosaur poem inspired by your faggot dinosaur poem.” My impetus for this zine/series is to have writers communing together in an instantaneous non-hierarchal creative way without worry about publishing industry stuff, etc. That is why the deadline submission is such a quick turnaround time. I would also like submissions from visual artists. Please submit a jpeg of a drawing you’ve done inspired by the title Faggot Dinosaur. Color artwork is fine. Make sure jpegs are at least 300 dpi. The only stipulation for these submissions are that all poems and artwork are entitled Faggot Dinosaur, & of course, that you’re not a crazy homophobic person taking the name faggot in vain. I’ve attached my own poem below so you can have an example. Please pass on to anyone you would think would be interested. Excited to see your work and thank you for being in the world! xo Ali

Faggot Dinosaur–Ali Liebegott

It’s hard to believe there’s anything left to find

on this karate-chopped, wrung-out planet

and just as I say this, beachcombing lovers

pick up shards of china from a sunken ship

and a father lays down his metal detector

on the 50 yard line of a high school football field,

to dig up a nickel so old it’s now worth a dime.

In a dinosaur park in Maryland, after only five minutes

a seven year old discovers the humble jawbone

of the sweetest, dinosaur that ever lived.

The dinosaur was a meat-eating juvenile

but I pretend he was a cardigan-wearing painter—

the effeminate friend I never found in my own youth—

and that I lived with him in a time where dinosaurs could be faggots

and faggots, missing links

in a warmer era when people weren’t assholes

because there weren’t any people.

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