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Tom Whalen Dolls want to call up another world. They want to be Japanese. They want to tell your mother and father what you did to them last night, the little things, the secret things, in your dreams. They want the moon to take your eyes, the earth your heart. They want you to lose yourself in some dark alley, to call out for their help which they cannot give even if they wanted to, which they don’t. They want you to tease them with your little doll lies, to strip and display them, memorize and mark them. “O look at my little dollie. Isn’t she pretty? Isn’t she mean?” They want you to burn them. They want you to blow on them. Because they love you, they want your indifference, your disdain. Whatever you can’t give, that most of all they want. |
Caketrain is a literary journal and press based in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Our interest is in bringing you, reader, the very best in contemporary creative writing, full stop. Our goals are for each issue of our journal to submerge you in a birthing tank for gelatinous language monsters, young masses of tentacular foci undulating as directed (in all, at once) by our eclectic stable of contributors; for each new book we publish to seduce and ensnare you, sometimes intangibly, always undeniably; and for you, reader, to be able to draw at least one passage from our banks that prods your mind with such precision and power that it feels as if it was written for your eyes alone. To wit and to whet, here is a snippet, a slight nip of our delicious lit mix: Loving
5 AM Mourning
Copyright 2003-2006 Caketrain Journal and Press. Rights to literature revert to their respective authors. How's Our Driving? Powered by Blogger 
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