sequences of stripped comics in disabled worlds


he was an ugly fellow– felty hair, nose red
from drinking– with long & cratered tongue
he caught endless trails of yellow running snot
with the surprising elegance of ballerinas–

nimbly as a weasel he rolled cigarettes, sipped
amber colored liquid & told me with deep voice
he was a seaman once,

needless to say i– was in awe

he sat in the park all day, same bench,
drawing tiny figures on a tattered note pad,
and i– hovered next to him,
my wheelchair pulled as close as possible
so i could see, holding my breath– and not
because he stank (of course he did but honestly,
it mattered little)– there

were worlds, developing before my eyes–
spiked with magic, heroes, mysteries, with action
and tight rescues, worlds– where i’d love to live

& he asked me what to draw– together
we would give them faces, texture, character–
painting them brave or fast or furiously funny,

and i always knew i’d meet them in a minute
‘round the corner, in the streets, in school and
in my dreams and wished i were just swift enough
to speed with them–

“one day you gonna fly” he said
and looked serious, so serious–
i didn’t laugh and then–

he took another sip of rum
and scribbled on with horny hands.

until the morning the old bench was empty–
in the gravel, almost buried under dirt &
cigarette stumps, i saw his note pad, with

two sticks, sweat pearls on my forehead
(how i HATE this prison seat–), fishing in the dirt,
bent dangerously wide into a crash, at last i
salvaged it and felt– a stinging pain between
my shoulders, muted first, then– terrifying

& i screamed, breathing heavily and sunk
into my wheelchair, i kept staring at the tiny figure
in my trembling hands–

jeans, the Batman shirt my mom bought yesterday– how
did he know?

and then i saw them– elegant and smooth like
those of swans and strong like dragon sails and–
i felt dizzy, not with pain of my split open back,
sore and– it would heal– with
tear-wet hands i felt them bud and grooowW, my
body crooked & crunchING under birth pains, the
new t-shirt tearing open (oh my– what would
mama say..?), they–
were soft & wet with amniotic fluid when i first stretched, with
quivering hands touched tender, spread and–

this is how it started


it’s my pleasure to serve behind the dVerse poetics bar tonight where we will meet some pretty well-known fellows.. and for the first time have a fire burning where we’ll brew some magic potion for you…(old german recipe..smiles) just be careful and don’t fall into the kettle… gates open 3pm EST… 

40 responses to “sequences of stripped comics in disabled worlds

  1. This is very fun–it took a really unanticipated direction for me–didn’t quite expect the amniotic to flow (or the mucus)! (Ha.) But really enjoyed it. K.

  2. Sometimes talents can be found in people most of society ignores, but often it is unlikely encounters that help a person give birth to dreams. Beautifully written, Claudia.

  3. smiles. beautiful story of becoming…the characters are quirky, the booger eating artist and the handicapped kid…the man that sees more in him than he does…the loss of him but also his new birth…this is a story that i can find myself in easy…great stuff claudia…

  4. Wow didn’t expect you to go in that direction, wonderful ending. Although catching snot at the start really sent my ocd into overload..haha

  5. I’m smiling, Claudia–I love your narrative here, and I think you do go right to the heart of what all those super-heroes and people in outrageous costumes are symbolizing–our own lost freedom and our own smallness and powerlessness transcended.

  6. I enjoy this story…the gift of hope and finally learning to live your dream. But this is the beauty of sharing your talents and words to those who need it ~

    An exciting prompt I say ~

  7. Brings to mind the real superheroes I’ve been privileged to know and work with…people who struggled to overcome disabilities and transcend limitations whether physical, emotional, mental or spiritual. The will to overcome weakness is amazing. Very powerfully written.

  8. Geez, Dear Claudia, you really are one of the greatest poets of ALL time, not just of our time.

    Where are you from, anyway?? I mean Germany, yes, of course. But before that? Ocean spray swept you onto a Caribbean, Australian or Iceland shore? From where your wheelchair hitched rides on clouds up Batman’s castle in the sky? Then you stowed away in the luggage room on a steamer ship that sailed to all our blogs?

    I think I need to go for a long walk after this poem. But that will have to wait for later, as I do love to catch up with my favorite bloggers from this fast library computer.

    So onwards to the next poet goes I now. With the freshness of the woods to wonder in late today!


  9. Of course, I meant empathetically. Your compassion and that of the drunk who makes the drawing and then the intense birthing of wings. You’ve laid your hands on so much sensory detail here. xxxj

  10. Goregeous! You had me from beginning to end. What a wonderful poetic tale you’ve woven with this one. My heart suggests you keep and treasure the poem. Someday it shall come to life.

  11. Wow. Beautiful story. I know some strange and unsavory characters had a hand in helping me grow some wings as a child. Really enjoyed seeing that happen through your eyes.

  12. A grand adventure into comic dramedy
    and graphic poetics, Claudia. I love this
    piece, it keeps us riveted to a parallel
    park bench cheering for the disabled child,
    who later became Frank Frazetta by day,
    and Hawkman by night. I cannot get the
    vision of a cigarette smoking weasel out of
    my head though. Liked the line: /strong like
    dragon sails/ Your allegory it touching, and
    your heart has swelled up to the size of a
    musk melon as you whelped this adolescent
    who shall be……

  13. Excellent piece, all around. Really like a bit of the surreal merging with the real-what could be real. Just a wonderful piece, all from a comic book prompt- Truly amazing. Thanks

  14. more, please! more!!!

    fascinating, captivating, exciting and exhilirating! the best any comic can offer!

    amazing, claudia! ♥

  15. This was such a wonderful narrative! It drew me right in with the vivid characters and kept me spellbound with the creative story. I also didn’t know what to expect at the end, but it was beautiful! A bit of the cycle of life.

  16. awesome stuff, Claudia…The description of the man at the beginning had me pretty grossed out, but I started to like him a bit as the story went on. and loved the little handicapped one’s character!…this was vivid! Loved it 🙂