Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Most people are in a ridiculous situation.
The closer you look, nothing matches up.
They betray and contradict themselves
and one another. But there are missing
parts that fit in other places in the best of
worlds and so are right where they belong.
Zoom out and take a look at the mosaic
that appears when all the parts are found
accounted for and understood as a path-
ologist would in following an infection.
Where my part is now the one that fol-
lows you around is where your art is.
for Edgar Cayce
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
I could have put my arm around you or threw up
my hands on the way down; you could have
clamped onto my arm for a safety, girly feeling,
but the ride is currently sliding into denouement.
Maybe there's no need for action when the place
and what's going on all around are plenty enter-
taining, but then the whole thing closes down.
There's no earned talent over time for pairing off.
You see an infusion of cash and you wonder will
there be the fulfillment of a fantasy of together
or the sudden chance to turn an innocent regret
into Tomorrow of the Self, a triumphant pillage?
"I'm reaching into space to get you back, Phyl."
by cap'm at 12:02 AM
Friday, July 17, 2015
Tittie-clamp chain now a roach clip,
And sometimes it swings alarmingly.
Two rubber nubs from the one wicked-
Tight alligator jaw are long vacuumed.
The coiled old links weigh in a palm.
The roads-to-Rome breeze of a central
Air filtration system pulls away odors
Yet also beckons towards the outdoors.
by cap'm at 10:55 PM
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
OMG isn't anyone allowed to have a personality anymore? Not allowed in the workplace unless you are a vocal-frying, nasal talking, Lexapro-taking cyber-prosthetic clone of some fat, de-gendered hipster? Where are the bigger-than-life smokers and drinkers of the Earth's last earnest millennium?
The only reason some men pull back at all on their missions to inseminate is that they can't keep moving the penis forward ad infinitum, and despite the design of the organ, there's no more pleasure in retreat than in breaking a perfectly good line, a straight-on ray, into pathetically iterative fragments.
Monday, July 13, 2015
I was staring out a window eating potato salad, and suddenly
we were prepping for a 'nade, securing hallway doors, and
on second glance, there were in fact no storm cells everywhere
instead I nursed a burn from the roaster rack on my bird finger
having stepped into the rain for a fistful of fennel and stuffed it,
sinews of intimacy had grown too tight, thus my careless touch.
the way this one bubbled against nature, bled medical waste
the butchered organism suffers indignity of fate
when with what it is embalmed is the same as what it ate
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Friday, July 10, 2015
But then she had to startle awake and remind herself no even tho she's backed up into a safe stone corner, and she's a real K now, she can die.
So she may fight for a while and back on into the mountainside crease, too tired to climb into the sky, the only way to Cliffe Suites.
But they're coming at her! She must get out this could be the end. It was the middle of the day, plenty of time for them to send new recruits.
by cap'm at 6:16 PM