Auspicious Battery

Sated but still licking at shivplate from a round, girlish stone after the fact, horizontal poolside in a white rubber chaise, it's easy to call: Fool's Blessing, Chump's Paradise. After a 16-ladder climb up to the corner shade cave, it better be good, and it better be bad. I had to apologize to the valet-wench when the tip of my hard Italian duffel chipped the "bronze" trunk of a sentinel gomphotherium, stuck obnoxiously there in eternal trumpeting siege too near the beads like a high-security hole sniffer. Then appeared the living creatures.

It hadn't been three steps after checking in when I spotted it across the water, between doric plaster columns among a copse of senatorial nudists with towels, hunched over its tray of ashes. The chest was sunken, and the face was drawn of limits that all spelled bitterness and spite. It could have been so posed at a maiden's breast on a canopy bed, having sucked all the life with her breath, yet still wheezing for truth and light and sympathy. Its toenails bit into the cement. It watched me.

Later that night, I stepped out of my room for a jacuzzi. There was something glowing blue at its lip. Some bodies pose naked because they cook with religion, and he was a doctor of carnal gospel. To take the waters and behold him was to sit in bubbles of pornographic faerie children. His blue light and severed heads, caught in their fright and wonderment, dangled from every nipple, hypnotized all moral superiority. His youth and self-regard, krishna art and wicca, made that night the start of my final auspicious shakedown and battery.

Chang K. Chang Chank Tank Chain Gang Grain Bank

On behalf of da Chang K. Chang Chank Tank Chain Gang Grain Bank, we grant you passage through R Bowel. U have bled yor Ked's in da bed for some bread and accepted a towelette, Jim. Now it's time to liven up to yor debt an swim.

Chang K. Chang Chank Tank Chain Gang Grain Bank [the MP3]

Horror of Peggy

im really sinking
im really sinking in spirit sitting here.
im really sinking in despair, all-knowing yet
not knowing if you are there. We all used to meet up
for a Coconut Rush at Sears after school and then freak-
ishly, you grew up, but not before i flew the coop.

ante-capture, with thumb-like flippers, the spinal cord was my tail,
and i had to whip it 'round a lot to get through water,
so that's why i like saying "no" emphatic'ly shaking my head:
it reminds me of being free. If I busted through my skull, a lengthie ten-
dril would come out along behind me. That's how you'll know I was successful.

Mom

Something Stimulatory

Sorry, honey but it's rubber. It's gonna slide when you sweat. Some bitches like that-- feels like swimming. Smells like a den of foxes.

The nip buzzers will not shock you even if yor wet because they are state-of-the-art. There is a navel-to-tailbone zipper in case yor into rimming or doing the splits.

You are totally missing the point if you think most of this stuff is good beyond a one-time use. It's flying. Make it last.

We've incorporated constant titillation except where it might cause a rash. In some cases, you'll find it impossible to assume certain positions.

Standing freely would be one of them. Becoming erect in any way would be breaking the rules. That'll happen when we say.

manolo y lesley

Yr mind fkn finds ways ok?
If da Pharmsupply go south
an Tedsda only one witta jo-
b, you come here you stay,
hey, who-dat inna poo? Wa-
i, dat ol manolo n lesley an d
-ey jus fabulous chall! u brin
-g yr sleeping bag, cuz we th
-ink you fabulous too cuzzin!

Mikes's Swimming Blog, Day 90-bouts

Tonight I only waded. I could be a tranny, depending on your definition.

Nothing can Fill my Hole

I come home to my fabulous faux-renaissance palace and hover over my persian carpets in the opium den listening to my favorite ragas. My four fabulous akitausies file in, strutting their glammy beauty and leaving a genuine fur-rug trail behind wherever they step, smiling their adoration. I glide out to my multi-tiered pool with fountains, really more like a water park. Here I bob as a rubber duckling in the falls and whirls. Later, for dinner: all the delicacies that the local ShivMart can provide. My mother? Although living here on plant and does cramp my style, adoring and willing to commit crimes to retain my favor. Then why... why the hole? It's a hole and it's the size o' Texas, right here... [Chamatilly indicated a large oval area between her groin and sternum by drawing an invisible egg shape with the tip of her finger. The hole came all the way up under her breasts]. It seems that nothing, nothing can fill my hole. This hole, priusnear the size o' Texas, is all up inside of me.

ratty charm bracelet

tho the lunar light is at 2/3
looking in the water, it is
the clearest night: circles in
a pool become nervous lie
detector/ earthquake met-
er/ voice graph checkerbo-
ard, the bottom being solid
bright with these lines: for
today we dragged a hangar
loop across the top after a
wind and collected a hum-
mer nest of dog hair and
cobweb, a witchy pod with
triangular black seeds, wa-
sps and bees, human oils
and peel, the clear wrapp-
er off a tongue depressor,
and leaves, bracts of bou-
ganvilla rotted clear into
skeleton and transparency.

Mike's Swimming Blog, Day 66: I am Keeping this House Alive

try locking your ankles together in the deep end;
see what you naturally do to survive. dancing yor
way out of a situation can save your life if it is sw-
imming. notice also that as you merman yor way
to safety, you swim like a fish, but flap yor arms
like a bony bird-reptile. preservation society helic-
opters could mistake you for a flying reptilian bird
entering our space from a watery third dimension.

Mike's Swimming Blog, Day 7: Disaster Hits Smalltown America

I imagine that I have to swim across a river a few times a week; it keeps me fit, for it's all I do with my body, to grievingly admit.

There are floating varieties of orchid and snapdragon caps
I shimmy across the surface or arc deep, but my sinus
in those instances could be affected.

I pass back and forth with the virility of water
and I pump this life to the bone.

I imagine I am something like the boatman
on the Styx river: a conning Jim or Heather
who can no longer get a loan.

Mike's Swimming Blog, Day 16: It Evens Out

When it's very late trying not to
disturb the neighbors much, and
when it's more than 110 degrees
one tends to just stand in the
water. Algae can take hold and
the robot slides down the sides;
Hoolie, life must get our reac-
tion. Life must not persist in
these salted waters. Life is bar-
red except for one main life.

But when it was hoary tonight
I had the reaction; it seemed
to feel at home in the suspend-
ed life-bloated filth and teem-
ing nutrients, bursting possib-
ilities for sustainability of an
eco-system. My abdomen
grows green and purple scales
like a beautiful crustacean. It
propels me like a strong fish.

Mike's Swimming Blog, Day 12:

Swimming is a battle for life, first of all. You fight to maintain a vital corporal function. You are swimming literally on a line between life and death, especially if you don't swim really well and try to do ballet and modern in the water and think it will automatically make you float.

Thinking about trying it during an outbreak.

Mike's Swimming Blog, Day 11: Aquagesturals

If you make movements that are not normally thought to be water movements, you can go as fast or faster than you can with regular water movements, and with a priusload of energy savings, chile.

For example, dog movements way beyond the dog paddle can propel a human through liquid whereas with a canine it could fail. If you make a movement as if you are wagging your tail in still pool water, you will propel.

If you are on your back and act like a young pussycat theater stud and sort of pump the surface tension, you will propel, and quickly. This tongue-like motion allows you to "lap" with all the same goodie health points as a linear lap, except for that everyone else is hermaphroditic in comparison to your bonus "green" aquagesturals.

Seven Over

Sylvia felt almost the same whether she was in her car or on foot. It was just a difference between pedal pushing and weight shifting, really using one foot or two. Shells of cloth, leather, metal. Her spring lifts gave her the same buoyancy as the shock absorbers in her hooptie. She dreamed of bouncing all the way to San Diego along the Hard Trampoline Highway. She soared upward, seven yards over the limit. There was Ted hitting climax at about the same time, the Valley stretching out beneath them like a Dirty White Vinyl Bible. They shared weightlessness for just a sec. They continued as such until splashdown in the Pacific. They bobbed alongside steamers and pleasure craft, were dwarfed by the wreck of the USS Ronald Reagan, sipped Seven and Sevens from straws in tall, frosty stones.

He Reaches Out by Reaching In

When the arm of the phonograph reached its trigger point, it lifted itself and re-cradled. The speakers went dead.

Donna and Mike each took a moment to gather their breath and have a few thoughts. Mike's receiver, in fact, was under the dining room table while he rinsed his face with cold water at the kitchen sink.

When he got back to the phone, Dr. Thong had already begun to cautiously pursue a preliminary and furtive line of questioning.

"...if this was the first time you have had an experience such as the one that we, that you... um."

"Doctor I'm sorry I'm back. I was..."

"It's Mike, isn't it?"

"Dr. Thong, I don't know how to tell you, but I hope that maybe now you may already know."

"I like music, and it did actually... carry me away."

"Of course since we're on the phone you can't really see for yourself what's been happening on my end." Mike glanced down at his shimmering abdomen. "I don't know yet, but I feel I could really swim."

"Mike," Dr. Thong began, recovering her courage with a new-found, no-nonsense attitude, "are you referring to photodelic re-engenderation?"