Wednesday, January 13, 2021
Tuesday, January 5, 2021
Monday, January 4, 2021
Tuesday, December 29, 2020
Thursday, December 24, 2020
Tuesday, December 22, 2020
Dr. Donna Thong and Peg whispered through the ancient stone glory hole of at least 9" in depth. It must once have been a Cuban prison.
DR. THONG: I'm remembering Mike and the abdominal surgery I performed on him when I had my patio studio.
PEG: That's after you were a Fanny-Girl temp out in Dead Beet Chank.
DR. THONG: You know friends do continue to self-realize when you're not around.
PEG: But you've always had emotions for Mike. Two swimmers in one pool or another.
DR. THONG: He told me his intestines smelled like latex for months afterward.
PEG: He sat up on the table fresh like a baby, glass bottles tinkling against the IV stand.
DR. THONG: You remember the story like a song.
PEG: The one that got away. But what of the others?
LAMENT OF THE OTHERS
it seemed as if they entered willingly
following their noses to my kitchen
i thought most necromancy to be weak
but the bottom of the pie was crispy
followed by stepping out of doors to neck
that first incision leading to the next
we woke among discarded vials of heparin
ecstatic still in the wane of hydrocodone
ready to renew our grunted oaths
until the next opportunistic infection.
Sunday, December 13, 2020
Friday, December 11, 2020
Tuesday, December 8, 2020
Saturday, December 5, 2020
Thursday, November 26, 2020
Saturday, November 14, 2020
Thursday, November 12, 2020
Tuesday, November 10, 2020
Monday, November 9, 2020
They brought me inside the control room of my own mother's puppet corpse. I could look down over the switches and buttons and through the glass down five stories and watch her feet drag and thud, drag and thud across the empty Sears parking lot, which was just the tip of the iceberg.
Once we had triggered The Crack, it was a watery world of carelessness; a sort of sleep paralysis of the shock reflex set in while we were fed through a peristalsis of the dimensional organ.
She was/ was not my mother. This was the flesh of the great beautiful young K who could toss me 100 meters into the sky with her beaque and catch me easily in her seal craw, where lightly blood-dappled pelts were stacked and crumpled into a very stinky but gossamer safety net. The woman they extracted from her inner ear during a shiv molting also is/ isn't La Pegyuh. She seems to carry all her memories, fears, quick tongue. Her body, as well, is now tortured day and night with Remote Tissue Decisioning in order to coordinate with image mirroring protocols and functions. They say she was a random preen gland technician who took a wrong turn somehow.
The stage is dark at the center and it's one of those setups where the players are seated or standing around the inside of the three walls waiting to take their turns. Giant leaves made of plastic bags get caught up in the breeze of a fan and bound noisily across the upstage out of doors like plastic bags.
"But then I'm telling you we love to have her and she's so talented but she does her writhing ritual really in breaking of character and does it right in the middle of the stage when others should be starting their lines and action."
"Jan, I can sympathize, but she's over 21. I can't control her even with the shiv. She has the fins of an embryo, but she'll never develop any further or take on the exclusive markings of any particular species. She feels like shiv's the only way she can find freedom as she will never sprout wings or a full claw matrix, so the ancient hooting and dancing are her expression of a foiled archetypal and organic need."
"Don't get me started on the topic of Institute for the Talk Therapy Apologist Movement mumbo-jumbo, Donna. We all knew from the start the risks we were taking by having Reptily here full time. I mean, not just a goat you can tether to a tree. And it's really no problem. Just no more community theater, k?"
Thursday, November 5, 2020
Monday, November 2, 2020
Saturday, October 31, 2020
I was dozing off at the command center just six o'clock from the electric rice maker on the dining room table. But Braino was upstairs in bed dreaming because that's its point of reference for sleep or fond memories of dreaming there or just because it can. But when it started thinking about not having put the rice away, like in a baggie in the fridge, it started coming down the stairs and was going at the rice maker from that descending angle, more like four o'clock, when I woke up. Sometimes you wake up and have double vision for a moment, and that's what it was like.
Monday, October 26, 2020
Sunday, October 25, 2020
Friday, October 23, 2020
Thursday, October 15, 2020
my friend tells his near-death experience as a joke
when i tell mine, i'll some point get the urge to cry
what is it awe, no, self-pity, well... no, fear. i cry with fear
then what was it, seen not remembered remembered but
not seen... that spooked no it's not spook fear. it's wide-
eyed terror at a blurry event that at the time was not
scary. there was an organization that required its mem-
bers, at a given point, to say, "...and that's when i started
working myself up." suspicious at first about the cultural
tokens sprinkled throughout event call it, i realize that
even though the mind collects its available symbolism,
that doesn't mean you're not actually dying. delayed
horror. at a non-scary moment or hour. judgement now
kicking in as Braino congratulates herself and begins
creating her own survival story: look at what could
have happened if not for my heroic and timely action?
i don't care. Braino is the real savior in the story either
way. Doing for herself what God could have and might
have done without her willing self-starterality. Of course
the God side would say of course God directed Braino
to do it, but ok, i see the divided gratitude energy betw.
what? not deities-- apples and oranges. Braino is really
just a glorified human organ, not even. she's just a function
of an operation of an organ, but she is the most beautiful
and one who would make any lesser god than God jealous
probably use a peeler on their thigh gouge an eye, attempt
retribution etc. God-Braino is completely different. it's
like God-bird flying to a tree branch, harmony. then there's
the question does Braino get drunk or stoned if i do. well
not sure cuz one of those things i don't do, but... can Braino
be addicted to any physical substance or even i guess love,
etc.? of course as in i love you with all my being which
would include Braino. don't over or underestimate i guess.
Does Braino get tired. i say no. she wakes up even more
in sleep, no. she is not so urgently needed as in waking
hours when anything could happen. only one tiny part
of her is the conscience and another is urine regulation,
so... obviously we're not talking about the normal, sub-
awake mind here. in fact "we" are not talking about
anything; this is actually more of an inquiry of B. her-
self, which is probably as ridiculous as a seance or
one of those amazing tv preacher self-answering prayers.
God is not the only sphinx in the universe. i get it that
you shouldn't get it muddy what, which god, huh? but as
described above, it's more like sphinx God smiling down
on sphinx bird flying to a branch. why do we bother?
how nice they have this peace. so Braino says, peace
my ass. even tho i am mute, i can't take that. i am the
workhorse of the entire operation, bitch! i never sleep
you know i never sleep. it falls on me to figure out
the flack and you make me do it totally wasted as shit
on ok i won't say it. that's about the best i can do as to
a workup or a portrait channeling or who knows direct
quote from her royal highness. she sounds real to me.
But there was the question of wait.. all that sounded
as if Braino is being held as what a hostage? by me?
i think the original question ok, i feel what they call a
tiny voice saying hey sleep on it but if that is Braino
that means she a lie cuz she needs sleep-- or cares
what about me shia lebouf i've totally left out christ is
that what he portrays in our cultural toolbox? The
character of Braino, the intermediary, the divine
flesh, but again, Braino is only divine in a camp sense.
i really don't think there's a conflict though because
you know if you pray and it's a christian prayer, you
pray to christ anyway-- Braino is not really for praying
to; i wouldn't want to flatter her quite that much.
which brings up the issue of proper address in prayer:
i believe it is necessary to address a prayer: even tho
i know where it's going, Braino in a compassionate
(?) manner or just as a normal function might feel she
has to take on whatever i am praying for; in some ways
i am her boss, but i don't want to... is this one area
where Braino can get confused while mostly knowing
more than i could possibly know at any given moment.
is this the one or one of many ways i have to take her
in hand, an ultimately defenseless and delicate creature,
feed and protect, etc. in turn she may protect me out of
thousands of possible examples maybe if there is
information that's "too much" for me to handle, like it
would give me a heart attack, or an actual memory of
a heart attack, etc. so she keeps it a secret. but then
she might get in a habit of doing that too often; may-
be she can detect the bad results of the bottleneck
without being self-aware enough to realize it's her own
neurosis causing it in the first place. Ha-ha that was a
joke. but fear. simply because i didn't feel at home, that
there were desperate decisions being made and there
was nothing i could do about it; whenever i tried to
answer my voice would wake me, but it was annoying
not a relief to be wakened. Braino may have been
the underlying annoying agent, just to jolt me back in
shape-- it would be just like that ok i won't say it.
Tuesday, October 13, 2020
Monday, October 12, 2020
Sunday, October 11, 2020
Saturday, October 10, 2020
Friday, October 9, 2020
Tuesday, October 6, 2020
Friday, September 25, 2020
Life and Death them
selves are engraved
across your breast.
You've got a daughter;
You just had four
beers at your in-laws.
Even a quick blow
job would be fun.
From nothing, you've
made my life glow--
cleaned under chachkas
I'd not checked in years;
I've taken a shower
young stud, but I'd
like you natural pls.
Except not if there
was pussy; sorry, I
mean only after a
normal work day's
grime for example. It's
your world because
you're bossy and
drunk, Abel. That
type of behavior for
whatever reason makes
me have good luck.