Jeffrey Zable

by Horror Sleaze Trash on May 4, 2013

Horror Sleaze Trash photo of Jeffrey Zable

Jeffrey Zable has published poetry and prose in a few hundred magazines including New York Quarterly, Mudfish, Wormwood Review, Fox Cry, Krax, Contemporary American Satire, etc. Have published five chapbooks, including Zable’s Fables with an introduction by the late great Beat poet Harold Norse.




we played checkers

while my mother

waited outside

she’s ask about

my father’s penis

had I ever seen it

did I ever think

mine was bigger

no I should have said

but watch this:






Reading Comprehension


Mary walked through the door, knocked her lover to the floor, and began sucking his dick. “I want you to be my slave. . . again!” she said. “You must always be available for me and never look at another woman although I will certainly give blowjobs and Greek style fuckings to every Tom, Rick, and Irving who comes my way.” And when her lover tried to raise himself– she not knowing that all he wanted to do was go to the bathroom– she pulled out a derringer from her stocking and fired the single bullet into his skull. The body was found along with the others, but still Mary is at large some six months later.


1. This story is mainly about


O  a woman named Mary.

O  a man named Irving who has

a Ph.D from Harvard University.

O  a man identified as “lover”

who has bladder problems.


2. Mary is the kind of woman who is


O  kind and sympathetic

O  a social climber

O  horny and egoistic


3. In the story the word “available” means


O  incarcerated

O  lovelorn

O  handy


4. The best title for this story would be


O  Mary and Her Lover’s Adventure

O  Sabotage, A Sign of the Times

O  When Love Comes Knocking





You heard him most clearly when he was having a fight

with his girlfriend over the telephone. He’d start with

expressions like no, no, no, no, no!  that would escalate

to, God damn it you’re not listening to me; you never

listen to me!  And finally, how can you do this to me,

you bitch!  And by this point he’d be crying and storming

around the room.


Then after she’d hung up on him he’d slam down the

receiver. You knew this happened because a minute later

you’d hear him scream, how dare you hang up on me!

I’ve given you seven years of my God damned life; how

can you be so cruel!  And finally he’d end with, I’ll see you

at the airport at four; please, please, don’t be late!


Sometimes these bouts would go on for almost an hour;

most interesting given that his roommate, who’s a friend

of mine, told me that this maniac actually spent five years

living and meditating in some Buddhist colony in Tibet.


Just goes to show you how the most enlightened of us

get caught when a woman is at stake.





After I got my Ph.D. in Surrealistic Thinking I got a job

in a corporation.

The very first day I put piranhas in the water cooler

and bearshit in the microwave.

I wrote my first report from ending to beginning and

and gave it to my boss with the following signature:

“From Dali with love.”

Then I barged into a board meeting screaming that

the toilet paper had lipstick all over it, and if the woman

wasn’t fired I’d wipe my ass with her face.

As no one responded, I started to fire off a list of demands,

the first of which called for hiring a dwarf secretary with

48 inch breasts and three-tone hair streaming down her ass.

Still no response, I pulled out some pliers and grabbed

the chairman by his prick.

“I’ll keep on squeezing until you bring me a nose plug

with a salamander sandwich!” I said to the others.

They knew I meant business. . .





Sex whenever you want it

with beautiful Southern California blonds

with sparkling blue eyes and bronze skin.


Smoke and drink to your heart’s content

without any repercussions.


Entertainment by Tito Puente, Mongo Santamaria,

Ray Barretto, Willie Colon, and Cal Tjader,

all in their prime.


Eat steaks, ribs, ice cream, and chocolate

and never gain a pound.


Always be accepted for whoever you are,

no matter how obnoxious you become.


Choose your favorite age and stay that way.


This is the party that’s 24/7. . .

and lasts an eternity.





Reading your poetry makes me want to eat and sleep

in a henhouse. Each poem is its own world where

bubble boys hang upside down and sing marching

songs that no body has thought of since the 20’s–

not since the troops returned with cases of clap

that were treated by cutting off the prick at the root.

You could be on your way to fame and a job outdoors

posting up billboards that read,  “My poetry is for

anyone who would lick a porcupine’s ass and fornicate

with a mannequin.” You have something that hasn’t

been felt in a long, long time. . .





She was one of those people who had

done everything and been everywhere.

I listened to her stories of living in

Afghanistan, India, Turkey, Burma and

Thailand: Smuggling drugs and precious

jewels, living the high life as the wealthy

man’s playmate.

It’s all a part of the Buddhist philosophy,

she said with a smile— live for the moment

and accept where you are.

Feeling humble in her presence, I thanked

her for a good time and wished her the best.

She was worth every dollar.


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