Order this iTunes track: from the Chaotic Collection ...Or order the entire 5 CD set from iTunes: CD: |
Order this iTunes track from the poetry audio CD Hope Chest In The Attic 13 Years of Poetry & Prose ...Or order the entire CD set from iTunes: |
Watch the YouTube video (2:58) live 4/14/09 at the Café |
Listen to the DMJ Art Connection |
Watch this Youtube video of Janet Kuypers reading this prose “Scars” in Nashville TN 5/18/13 after her Tag Team feature reading |
Watch this Youtube video of Janet Kuypers reading “Scars” and “Children, Churches and Daddies” in Nashville TN 5/18/13 after the Tag Team feature reading |
See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her Scars 2015 medley (based on parts of the prose poem Scars and the poems Scars 1997 and Scars 2000 10/6/15 at Quenchers open mic in Chicago (Cfs) |
See YouTube video of Janet Kuypers reading her Scars 2015 medley (based on parts of the prose poem Scars and the poems Scars 1997 and Scars 2000 10/6/15 at Quenchers open mic in Chicago (Cps) |
See YouTube video (Cfs) of Janet Kuypers reading 5 poems: Once Wanted You as my Friend, Escaping Every Cage, and a Scars medley (based on parts of the prose poem Scars and the poems Scars 1997 and Scars 2000, then Too Far and Children, Churches and Daddies 10/6/15 at Quenchers open mic in Chicago |
See YouTube video (Cps) of Janet Kuypers reading 5 poems: Once Wanted You as my Friend, Escaping Every Cage, and a Scars medley (based on parts of the prose poem Scars and the poems Scars 1997 and Scars 2000, then Too Far and Children, Churches and Daddies 10/6/15 at Quenchers open mic in Chicago |
ScarsLike when the Grossman’s German shepherd bit the inside of my knee. I was baby sitting two girls and a dog named “Rosco.” I remember being pushed to the floor by the dog, I was on my back, kicking, as this dog was gnawing on my leg, and I remember thinking, “I can’t believe a dog named Rosco is attacking me.” And I was thinking that I had to be strong for those two little girls, who were watching it all. I couldn’t cry. Or when I stepped off Scott’s motorcycle at 2:00 a.m. and burned my calf on the exhaust pipe. I was drunk when he was driving and I was careless when I swung my leg over the back. It didn’t even hurt when I did it, but the next day it blistered and peeled; it looked inhuman. I had to bandage it for weeks. It hurt like hell. When I was little, roller skating in my driveway, and I fell. My parents yelled at me, “Did you crack the sidewalk?” When I was kissing someone, and I scraped my right knee against the wall. Or maybe it was the carpet. When someone asks me what that scar is from, I tell them I fell. Or when I was riding my bicycle and I fell when my front wheel skidded in the gravel. I had to walk home. Blood was dripping from my elbow to my wrist; I remember thinking that the blood looked thick, but that nothing hurt. I sat on the toilet seat cover while my sister cleaned me up. It was a small bathroom. I felt like the walls could have fallen in on me at any time. Years later, and I can still see the dirt under my skin on my elbows. Or when I was five years old and my dad called me an ass-hole because I made a mess in the living room. I didn’t. Like when I scratched my chin when I had the chicken pox.
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