meatloaf with cous cous and sliced green olives served with boiled potatoes (not shown)

 2lb 85/15, 1/4 C ea chili sauce and merlot, long dash balsamic vin, celery and cumin seeds, 1 chopped yellow onion, 2 eggs, 3/4 C dry cous-cous, 1/2 C crushed wheat chex, black and white pepper (TOGETHER!). Tomato paste frosting with laurel hieroglyphics, sprinkled parm. 2 dientes gordos de ajo picaditos. aceite de aceituna, aceitunas.

Vikki Madrid

Albino cannonball

Reptily and Peg are walking their dogs downtown on a crimson sun day.

A light rail tour craft and bio-powered "U-Perp It," perpetual machine that runs on a series of human lives, collide. 

REPTILY: valium woulda helped that crash.
PEG: I said hey babe, do you have any valium.
REPTILY: I say hey, sugar. 10 or 20 milligrams wd do.
PEG: do do-do do-do do do-do do.
BOTH GIRLS: Ha ha ha ha ha!
PEG: No, really do you have any?

Reptily draws a leash up through her glove, and for a brief moment a fat little white bitch is hanging and choking over the plaza stones. Then just as quick it's safe and sound against her breastplate, if a tittle out of breath. 

REPTILY: You know I can get into talking to myself like a waitress at Cliff Suites when I finish a 1.5 liter plastic jug of no-label scotch-- "Good job!" or "Wow! I guess you didn't like it, huh?" But I would never-- ever-- carry around a valium jones or have a valium jones monkey on my back if I was gonna be any day the vestal virgin of all the chanklands who is supposed to be the most serene of all the glandular mutations we've seen since the filter came down. And I am. My mama and me are going to rule the sacristy with some protective gloves on. Now if you in the public, I suggest you get up to the temple and watch my slave brother Ilyn go head first into Mthyuh with his red afro burning. They call him the albino cannonball. Believe me, he's had a bad day... he'll be there. Now go. Go. Go on.

Peg swivels luxuriously, a catbird walking her greyhound.

PEG: OK, baybee.

Peg and her prize run stud, Bill Naughdon, slide in ridiculously elegant gate toward the jutting figure of the Mthyuh against a throbbing coronary 6-o-clock summer sky, a peak that makes all the skyscrapers rising up on either side of a woman and her dog look like palm trees on an island with a view of mount fuji or burj khalifa from where diana ross might've seen it.  

REPTILY: OK, it's way better than OK. It's my house, baby. A candy cottage. While we fatten you up behine barz, you can eat the roof and flooring.

Watch 'Even Light Can't Escape' Discovered Black Holes on PBS. See more from PBS NEWSHOUR.

RE-DO: Ceremonial Parka, 1-19-09

Flying F-Suit

Awda prees made her a ceremonial parka called a Flying F-Suit. It mocked the fin-like webbed spines rising from the crown of the K cocks and their awkward, remote-control ability to clear ground despite they priusnear chal weight. The winter version of the garment cast a squirrel-like shadow when she'd pass over the rooftops and center stones in the hives or up against the superchanks and their cave holes at sunset. It was a beloved sight, but sometimes worshipers didn't know if it was the Chama or one of her security mannequins. Every year, a dummy is shot down by flakes or caught in one of Mthyuh's middle fingers of flame.

palm springs trick room II

den mthyuh

they call you a gas guzzlr,
they say yor out, an
awl thye syuddn
yr ina mthyaphukin orbit

yu caynt yet getchr mayl thayr,
all yr stuff is in boxes, and...
an yr hair looks mentally
ill from n-x-s of home cuts

all you can hold onto is a den
of freaked out animals and the
shame of prescription shampoo;
where is the world spinning to?

Bad Paper for Tires

whizzing past Stink Lake on the Bladder Dip
gas baby got restless and bucked at the wheel
you just wait devil pup your turn to burp, flail

mama's got a shimmy needs reducing for free
tho its counter-intuitive, go heavy on the petal
as if to say it's hip to coast in on silent fumes

handbrake of sticky vinyl, stripes that we paid
ahead based on our regional weather patterns
back then, not caring who'd snag us by radar.

debt to bygone eroticism

warts grew over precise chakra points
lily pads on forks of refrigerated depth
ony lectric cd srvive in so cold a tissue

somehow it was pickled saved spiced
even empathy cd B posponed so long
for the energy to come out that strong

and they didn't throw rice or engage in
song, initiation, horny harvest ritual, pie
, because it was only an individual with

a singl eye which no one could disobey
because jumping up and down on him
would only incite the furiousnss n bloat.

bth kinds a peppers, just fr gd measure
BLACK AND WHITE TOGETHER!
Thru your senses, I feel myself a giant.

creature o. habit

in winter there are the vat dyed suede house mocs,
the wide-slatted leatherette deck thongs still warm.

if you take up the rugs you mt as well chnge house
so where you put dn proverbial hat is always fresh.

but thn yr left with living tissue as the only constant,
an dwen it starts answering back you want 2 slap it.

Donna

my needs

without the filter of loathing, there is no insulation;
tons of sentient matter teem in erry precinct, cell.
we can only wonder what 2 do about these units.

how yuv turned out makes of me something swel.
if i engaged you erry morning 2 farm perspiration,
i wouldn't care about my duty to let others down.

yet i'm a system, dependent on a few brittle cogs;
the belt of skulz born of foam from my backswing
bobs in a solid tide of need in2wich we've all cum.

Wayne 

Virusy Hanz

Vikki, can you get me a tomato?
No dahling, ahm too busy dicking arown.
Well you no i cantouch thingz since i got this damned microcosm.
But of curse you can. It's just yr own internalized can't monster wrecking the town.
But Betsy, it's a sudden onslot of a vex you can't begin to fathom.
Together we cn savage any attempts to drown r worse selves.
(this is baby jesus talking) drop yr weapons bitches. come clean.

then as always, a corporate interruption: "Y'no? Merka's faysin some tough challenges right now."

Hanz, no matter whut, we're not afraid of you.
Is that some kind of dig?
Well if it means yor virusy than yes.

Vikki Berlin

It didn't figure

wen we signed r domestic partner papers in the
taco bell attached to the arco thayv boarded up,
an I tipped the chaplain 50 bucks right outa my
wallet, not even in an envelope with a card, we
none of us cd've known that it'd end in disaster.

man show'd up in an open shirt an zipper jacket,
ona break frm workng at the local private prison
like nothing was wrong at all with corporate agre
-ements that married fasfood n' gas plus beer (or
that plus the lottery as 2 rich a gamble not a fear).

some men will linger like terraced smoke plateaus
in your life's venetian blinded rooms and hate you.
when you see them move, it lets you no they need
you, can't feed you, might leave you, may go down
with your ship. His name was Hoolie, as in "Chip."

by Mike

sloth ambulance

sloth ambulance
sweet chariot of the law
am i dead?

why carry me so far
boat of rushes
bowl of sand

rocking tumbler
mountain lion
i hope that you've been fed.

Vikki Dublin

gated punk retirement rock community

he ground his teeth so
much that his skull split

hard banshee dances
dervish rotations

tight urbane stepping
in a crowded square

bad driving tic (bad tic driving)

i can feel i didn't sleep last night
i can feel i was driving through
a toxic d'storm all day

i can feel my neck
ready for a brace
i've got a violent tic

now there are crickets
and a dog yap in porchlight
across the fence

erybody say
just relax is whut
you cn do nau

badrivingtic.mp3

a relaxed paradigm of glass placement

The point is to keep the same kinds together so you know how many you have of everything, and beyond that, the exact positioning of glassware can fluctuate and flow. It gets grouped in the random order with which it is retrieved from the dishwasher and set according to space availability, clan and whimsy.

With this new rinse agent you really relax and feel proud of your barware as if lifting it from its packing tissues for the very first time. Putting it up has been replaced with a perpetual safari for the suitable place, always ready for painting a baby's room blue or pink.

You can't say even harsher chemicals haven't been involved in the soothsaying. This entire machine needed a rutting out with Lime-A-Way. Now it can fulfill its open purposes while working less hard, and with less hard water residue. Minerals may begin to regather.

Jan
"Call me Klink."

ikea

Drop what you're wearing

Because of my pseudonym on a sex site, a whole family called me John.

They called me John calling from the kitchen. They called me John when all the wives and girlfriends were kissing their lovers at the table, but my compudate and me were just sitting in place, even though he had voted Republican and earned the right to make out with the rest of them, they called me John in their minds wishing I would just put out so they could go on with their lipid mixing, noble attempts to found a race.

In time they called me John when I whipped around a corner past them, calling out the windows of their F-150's, slowing down, thinking I could hear them, that I would respond as anyone would to a name. They feared that "John" guy in the small town when I called to complain about the utility, corner shop, hay broker. Everyone seemed to be connected by clan and known by a monicker of Christendom. Why didn't I recognize mine?

On a camping trip all the kids ran past in their boots and down calling out John come and play war.

During cocktails but before wine when we'd go and disappear into compudate's boudoir, he didn't know what to call me, and we didn't care. It was prolly just the two of us there in the entire county with that kind of romantic flair, but no one was counting. What we would wear would be dropping.

by Sylvia

the hag and the sheriff

thing in the ivy

...and because it was crawling up a wall, not a lot of vegetative girth to explore. Still, in these months, you can't quite see all the way through-- whut's a sprinkler head, a totem of bamboo. Her face, green with black highlights, seemed a shade between imagination, voodoo, amphibia, a forced dusk. He could have been a tiny human, tortoisine, a kitty, cobra, otter, fake that the pups were poking and fussing at. I only saw a composite projection of whut Braino was able to slap up based on profiling.

by Sylvia
"Why, Tom?"

Perishable human chip, bottom petal, shrink, dust

Wayne finally decides to be quiet about what's ailing him for fear of being robbed in weakness. Where before the loud complaining mostly served to warn how coming close could be a risk. In that much pain, while strong, he could have snapped a man's wrist merely expressing emphatic politeness about not wanting anything but an ear. It eventually gets bad enough to where you have to be invisible to anyone who might think you've already taken up enough of the available resources. While nourishment can be renewed illimitlessly, yor whut's not sustainable.

Shaker Motel

Just by busting a set of moves from each of the past three decades, we
Were able to reproduce crotch flora thot no longer to egziss in the wall.

Yor date on a night like this might mistake you for a culinary clown if U
Start with a romantic fish tureen up in the Vista de Arcos apt. complex.

But 3 pumpin hitchhikers and a roun-da-whirl jacket shiff cd shayk him;
Baybee juss letchur freak of another natchur come on & sign the registr.

"Hi, I'm Jan?"

Please apply

Please apply to be my only black friend;
Please apply to replace the number of
brothers i found lost along the war trail.

Please apply to be my body's lover.
Apply yr thick black, black black skin.
Come to me as soul that wants another.

Because you seem to be able to believe
almos anybody who could raise the boo
shit lever, i pitch on my knees my cover.

Donna (I'm your)
 

My Horz

I was just thinking how I'm resenting, maybe unfairly, all of my bitches lately. At first I say I'm turning over a new labia: never again will I hang my time out to dry on some lowlife hohoo ain't even turning tricks. Who think she can survive on my jism as a fix. Not so. Cuz that's too rich a treat for dependent mthyuhz cayn even work beyond her lips fer a snack o' some food stamp points fr the lil' baybeez. This is an economy fr double income, high rolling self starterz who can share meat as well as preen, luv. You got to have something equal to give if you gettin the biggest dickhead you ever seen, luv. Adoration don't make the queen, dove. She gotsta have a trade outside a shade an speckin pay in diemunz, mthyuh, cuz my preservation, above all the othyuh, is whut I spen my day lovin, not yo ass-jaded ball inspectrz with meterz on they taints an credit scorz like teen-mom newlywedz...

Ilyn

Officer of the state

I think I'm just doing my duty. If I had a family, it might be different; I'd just want to keep them safe; go ahead and compromise my privacy, trespass a little, okay, cuz if I started complaining about my "rights," I could be taken away and my kids left half parentless. I am just responding to the mechanism that was implanted in me when I myself was a child about standing up for the constitution because that's what makes you not a greasy foreigner, and what else do you have really, especially without having spawned another generation of weasly, selfish little eels.

Tom
"After all, in my capacity as technical college instructor, I am an officer of the state."

fyre 5

fyre 4

fyre 3

fyre 2

fyre 1

When crickets get in

Only one cricket is at least as annoying as a squeaky washer on perpetual spin, especially when it's in the house. The only thing you can do is walk over to where the noise is, and it will stop. At that moment it thinks it's hiding because it's quiet, but really it's hiding because it's so tiny. It doesn't even know that. But it doesn't even matter because it will start again as soon as you walk away, and it can go without good, wholesome food for days.

Jan
"Still rockin'!"

Anything can happen

As you hurdle toward earth,
nothing any longer surprises
until, we can suppose, the fi-
nal jolt, which promises to be
like wow, a moot pt, or both.

How is it we can still love at this speed
and hardly ever crossing trajectories?
When the body responds without even
checking in with the mind, is it truth or
allergy, collegiality, anthropomorphism?

Chamatilly

interface

blank approach

i love you, stop

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhW1JMfAEFE

eye eye-eye

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17lkdqoLt44

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRadA7074wk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5r5OE_u5m0

Post History

They found one of us in a bog, but here I am in the latest possible century, encouraging my pet dogs in the exploitation of grasses. Smoking something like turf in a bowl, I'm sure I wd also be swilling infusions, eating my fellow if that were something that ever caught on culturally in vogue. I've gotten better comforts and what else. Better comforts better be and are after all all. Is my god better. My god is kinder cuz he's mostly gone. Remote slumlording is something you can't take personally. And all the better in case you want to water a little patch of ground, just so the pups can see how it was in the virgin forest. Add it to their digestion, watch them puke away the side effects of modernity/ post history. After history I suppose it could mean there's no more great surprise events. You just figure out nature is this way or another; men are just so, and that's that. Whatever happens you're like yeah right whadid I tell you. That's not history, or even any kind of present to speak of, and it sure the hell ain't the future.

Mike
"Jaded."

Deep end of your back

Twin, we're slipping down opposite sides of the economic divide:
as the wings of a butterfly seabridge, we close down over what
impales our individuality: the thorax of employment opportunity.

And I can see clearly what you can't: how sexy the dimples over
Your butt crack. The way you will always succeed just by being
Who you are. Yes, that's bullshit, but no more than every principle

We live by. You see the deep end of my back; I, flat top or fade
down behind yr skull cap. We are thankful at least that we each
have skin both our own and whatnot to throw on when it's cold.

Put away hope

when you begin to die,
you attribute all your errors to that,
and so you should; how right you are.

Even elections you held while asleep--
they count. No matter how shallow or
profound, you chose the plot, how deep.

But too there must be wild factors that
kill just as creatively, as life-like as you,
as determined, as unsure at what.

Read these last lines anticipatingly,
then put hope away for a moment to honor the
betrayeds, the beytrayeds and humiliateds of it.

Illyn

Parade of the grotesque

Fell out of escrow, still hanging on. The owner is partially invalid, peeking through the blinds in his apt, which is the room closest the office. He has an organ in there, covered in magazines. He is determined to help with the cold breakfast buffet every morning until he can retire, where, into some other all-male gay nude atmosphere.

Deeply stained camouflage seat cover. Haunted luggage cart. Corporate-sponsored parties of the lowest kind. Your eye is it jaundiced, Ken, or cynical wary. How bends a brow, time vexed by sideways-straining inquiry, counter-retaliatory scowls, discomfort of constant x-treme love pleasure to the everyday system.

Finally we couldn't extract the dishwasher. It seemed to have an umbilical cord connected to the Mthyuhphkn trailer. And between those built ins, we couldn't have even hacked it out. It was that snaky galvanized steel tubing and puddling water. We put a warning sign out for any literate and not too rebellious pervert.

Mike

clinging to a log

the battered women's counselor explained how her office had been moved out and then back into the same place again by saying welcome to my old-new office, and it was also the same office I'd gone to visit her in the last time I was battered and a woman.

we talked about how what would be the best case scenario and then very quickly following with how no, that's not going to happen.

later then there was a man and son clinging to a log in a flood. they said their neighborhood is a honey trap for disaster.

escape from country

escaped from country
for a cardio dance party,
queens tryd to gank my
watch in a back alley

A llama grunted and fell against the fence, but we couldn't catch her in our flashlight. Yippy cayotes get a surround noise effect. You, a blonde devil, go after it with all yor teeth and tongue. Appears to be your first and only life. How could you come back and overdo that?

by Mike

Desire to exploit worldly ignorance of the highlanders

This visual presentation, as well, has been shut down by the Mthyuh Preservation Society's moving picture arm. Or is it a fist??

here we are, contents of the mountain:
each of us passionate, hurting inside, disadvantaged in our minds, that we're disadvantaged or put upon or persecuted/ discriminated against personally in some way, and it's all true.

cayotes threaten our dogs/ llamas even though each of those is meant to keep intruders away.
all across the hilltops pets are barking into darkness. Milky way gets the rare honor of being the brightest.
Whut this gives us to see is diamond-hardened positives and negatives but non representational.

How about one night each week down at our place with showers, food, wine, marijuana, children playing
pong on TV, moms working some elaborated crocheted career apparel, dads kissing and feeling each others'
pecs. Laundry room and various Innernet stations are open to you.

Wayne

My alarm, his fate

He goes humming in and out the door now. The screen bouncing on its base makes the sound of industry, another mold being cut. Off and out and onto the porch to get another smoke done before the laundry ends, Roy has apologized for threatening my breath. He has explained it satisfactorily in terms of disrespect, but also mined its more intimate fingers in body chemistry, parentage and temporal insanity. One daren't meet'n the eyes of such a life sluffing off its earnest lies as an impatient foreskin will shed selves. One can't decide if it was much hotter provoking and inviting it that morning, shirtless breast against naked titties, flushing pecs at only seven paces, calling and responding along a most ancient rut, deep into which pleasure gurgles on its storied path of sorrow and shame, to a level of normally phone-only verbally pornographic violence. But as the bottom, I guess, I got to ride defense, still showing a stag horn. Roy had to make the cruel decisions for both my feverish alarm and his fate.

by Mike

On storytelling

One event fills your cavities with helium. Your shell is pliable but so hard; you can float around in its warped global seizure, or try spinning out the thread, courageously banking against walls, furniture as the hiss shoots farther toward actualizing another moment, a backlog of strong postponed beats straining adherence to the microsuede bubble til they succumb to the overwrought notion of a present that resists exhalation.

By Donna
"I busted lactose at the scene of the crime. Ask me how."

Hegemony v. Six Animals

they're here! the outlaw band of cayotes:
I've badgered the locals so, madem give
up their guns, turn to swear me off their
livestock and its wellbeing, even watering;

but what if i appeared with a 22 rifle and
some kind of plan, or just the next morn-
ing smearing the lovely pelts on the road,
complaining of what a crap night it's been?

common folk might assume by the license
the story's end, last laugh for my insightful
knowingness and gentle re-arming of the
more able, better judges of futures limited.

at the moment there are only screams, full
-throated, unstopped, bellicose, thwarted;
at this time, conversely, sentient intelligence
stands stiffly listening in a greasy doorway.

simulation v. reflection

God must have chosen me to be the one to see the beauty of reality:
seven vestal hurricanes, a golden pestilence and a billion hot and hun
-gry begging mouths awaiting in the halls of kingdom fracking come.

The way he makes a give and take is by hanging my tits out the win-
dow and walking by and saying you've a pornographic face, Dolores.
Whenever I'm doing cartwheels across this victory grass o him n his,

be certain to listen while I grunt out the hydrolic parts that drain energy.
Some say there exists a continual mechanism that can be discovered or
invented that would perpetuate the cycles of joy and ascendance, amen.

by Ken

Donna's Release

For a while it was third way or third rail;
we realized der was hel to pay if we fail;
You got a clock to stop you, a watch to
pop you soon as you come close to truth,
but this is the big time, in fac hours are o
-n the spot, effectively in the chair while
their final appeal is imminent and excrem
-ent and all you're waiting on is the phon.

Painmaster

military guys have a detachment from their beauty,
which maybe is regarded as one ant to another ant.

you might run into a buff kid but whose mind is al-
so worked out, elaborated but by horrors, not folios.

He'll love the forest, skimming waters, moto-biking,
easily switchable to emergency alert overload pangs.

This gentleman can never be your friend unless you
never know, try to kiss him, listen, coco-oil massage.

by Mike

Dr. Thong [wasted] @ the Beauty Salon

The masochist's whole thing is, "you might as well
kill me now. And enjoy yourself because there isn't
much else out there fer you'n either.

Sadist whole thing is, "ima go crazy. ima go crazy o
-n you-- less I hear a hoot. Then it's all good. yule le
-t me know what to do.

Then the peace keaper cumin try an say:
OK you two, leave up on yr weapons an
come an try an getta piece of me.

Scat Xmas: A Fart Journal

Psych-Low-Pedia say: "Errybuddy cut priusnear 35 farts a day."
So they are named:

1) I am wickit, yet a boon to you.
2) Another exorcism.
3) Drumroll of slumber.
4) Starting to sound like conscious intervention.
5) Wrong: it's as savage as it is archetypally knocked out, unbeautiful.
6) "Phhphffbbt."
7) Is it? A shy question?
8) Crossed over into fracking.
9) Is this corprate or goverment laxity?
10) Pray it was a one-time event, unrecorded.
11) Electronic woodpecker.
12) Grounded.
13) Butt-intense.
14) Weak and bilious.
15) Not at the table, but moving along the salsa bar.
16) One microwaved jetliner entree: $700USD.
17) Chicken.
18) Painful, unsatisfactory.
19) Red wine or internal bleeding?
20) The basically-digested earnestness of babyhood.
21) Cradle robber.
22) Jolly rude.
23) Hold it...just...try and...omg.
24) Does it count?
25) Heal thy moralistic burst.
26) And your mother.
27) World's most generous.
28) Santa Ana
29) Where does it begin or end?
30) Pushed out.
31) Her stalker.
32) A number of hounds.
33) Rilly dog like.
34) Afterthought.
35) Uplifting.

By Donna

Dr. Fashion Model

witchy things like locks and zippers/ fire
can bring about some situations you desire
but in the end the future is a fraud/ fake

Rough swag

We had just been talking about our days when Peg
showed up at the door with the skull from a goat carcass,
the hair mostly eaten away,
trying to reach with her tongue at what was left of the brains
through some sort of service conduit entrance at the back
at the back of the cranium.
I'd hauled the rest of the frame in two rubber bags to the local market
and convinced them to let me drop it in the pay dumpster just this once.
But the miscellaneous pieces kep poppin up. A forearm and hoof. This head.
Peg, you have a feral glint in yr eye, but you let us love you as a child.
When will you start to take responsibility of yr forays into rough swag?

sand bitches

 

Mamboon

I love these Waterford crystal double old fashions. I love them looking into the facets and think of how a queen would see it, as a royal mamboon, and I am going to hold on to these-- tight-- when I move up to that trailer.

This fire will be all I have to show the natives that I do come from somewhere, else, somewhere where I once thought to go online and order some Waterford crystal with my credit card. Now, when I laugh you can hear a whistle--


Donna

Griddle v. Grid

What is going on at PharmSupply, the Preservation Society?
Why does the Public Oracle Dispenser suck more and more?
Why always worse and worse; is this the future we'd pland 4?

Even the basic things like a keyboard or sound don't work right
Out of the factory. And then begins the process of petitioning
For your life to re-akin. Hackers are so desirable because they

Can decide whether or not you continue on. Fool. Automaton.
Prisoner. Sucker. Valued customer. Reject. It doesn't matter. I
-s it that yr working to fulfill mankind's death wish, as a biker?

No one humanoid can wreak a disaster without accomplices. B-
Utt a machine can reap chaos in your faculties. Remember whe
-n no one cd communicate w/ anyone because of no electricity.

bronze sailboats

On a five-wood deco vanity,
whataya say we nod to roots,
how each of us, equally strung,
experienced a knot of co-occupancy
and why we shouldn't share frankly.

But seeing's how we simultaneously
wiped index knuckles across nuts
watching psychodrama among a
whole pen of our likenesses,
blood kin can't go without staying.

This is where we gather and molt.
A hundred others combine the shame.
While not the godz-favorites, the
anonymity of obscurity has its fame.
We're heavy light triangles on water.

Peg at rest

DOUBLE-LEGGED SPIDER

there were twice as many as in a hair comb or double-lashed beauty.
half a can of botanical killer and its steps just got bogged down. Nex,
even with a fly swatter, it was only enough to cut through the two-ply
webbing. But look: It's left a package: a bi-pedal or two-headed bee.

spider of parietal jungle, parietal nose-centre targeting
tickling through its own creation more like wind in fringes,
a double-legged bomb on our minxes, terrific wall shadow,
please mother of nations stop yr hyperciliac protist worming

freak light

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/30/us/30paint.html?_r=1&scp=3&sq=brown&st=cse

Life was great but at a regular hour each day everything she had ever done was wrong. 
She felt cities were a place for soft music but in her case...
There seemed to be moments you could only get when things relaxed to see how they wound up,
and there seems to be the ecstasy of rounding a time bend and siphoning the horror outta change.

but in her case, still, the planet kept on with its annoying pitching and spinning out of range.
colors previously thought to be unrhymable until today: orange, burnt-orange, sienna;
now it made more sense when you sat that deep into a morning past sign-off stage.
There was a freak light in the meadow made it shake like a curly bulb went split side-ways.

By Reptily

freak light.mp3

Noon End

Boatman to the underworld, we can value yor perspective.
Remember tho you will never speak for the main stream.
You are tubed between over and outer realms, respectively,
So how could you aspire to be seal of the land, our bubble?

Galleon after galleon of crude, unleaded wall walkers,
Middlebrow conformists to venalism, hiders: they're
Your clan, down in the crossing lanes, border surfaces.
They say when universes they touch, it only means bangs.

Your breath, then, is everything even death cannot digest,
Something that will never be compressed and born again.
Yr word is precious in the finer markets they call perverse.
It takes a special kinda stud with a steady punty and blow

To take on what you've got already and just fuckin' row
With no attempt to show us how to buzz about our targets
Or weigh a lamb, a daughter, in some zero-fault vacuum;
Time for souls to find you at the noon end of a pendulum.

to shake and pray

Hyperbole soothes my emotion sickness;
I have behaved as jane fonda in the morning after,
Meryl streep in she devil, alternately
Wracked with laughter and sudden bitter sobs,
Hugging herself, her own elbow bones, against
the illuminated wall hanging of a drink tumbling
down mountain boulders in chiffon-slick streams,
light wheels working a mill house under blue plastic.
What I share with womanhood around the world,
Even in its masculine expressions, is the fortitude
to shake and pray and rock and sing to my babies.

by Donna

this hell, this shithole

We share an elbow and more, sister but for me it's sharp.
Don't know which part of the brain you have and I lack,
But sometimes it seems like you don't get the painfulness.

Yor crap all mixed with my stuff, having to accept a twist.
When you turn your back so, you know it makes me pee.
And because we're different species, I'll have to enter rut

Without your compassion for the tactile static, more guests.
And I have to live in this hell, this shithole, with pets who no
longer trust me to lead them always t'wats safer than whut they could have got alone.


Suddenly conjoined from birth at multiple sites to Peg, Reptily-as-banshee

False Cladistics

While they may wave unwashed radiant flesh in rustic gauzes near yor face,

seem complicit in a nascent taxonomy of intimate-hot proximity,

they only wish to know enough to shake you down.

Even if you own the very sticks that make the chaise lounge or milking stool that supports these assos,

in that epistemic medium, you are an outsider passing through. 

They come from a large line of squatters, only upright and anxious long enough to check out opponents, run a scent, lash out at lunch.

They have blood pride in what's spilt on soil, a mechanism that speaks loin to power, so fertile as to sprout meat once tread upon.


by Wayne
"Call me suspicious."

chicken

a sensitive man can feel the dimming of life giving jam.
as the headlights on the road out get stronger, he plans.
"this means release from an obsession-- maybe I can..."

We used to know a mexican bodybuilder named Vic.
Being in the stick trade he'd show up with a recliner
just because he's horny for me or me and my chicken.

some bitches you come home an they've rearranged the furniture.
Victor may have flipped the dinette set or every last dish for china.
he wanted to demonstrate how anything can change cep his dick.

Donna
"Thinking about how men of color have rocked my kitchen."

pyrus calleryana 'Chanticleer'

It started out as a good dream because even though he was homeless he was sleeping heavily in the loose saffron folds of a muslin sarong on a mattress of moss and hearty dichondra under a bud-laden pyrus calleryana 'Chanticleer,' the ornamental tree that smells like semen, in a lush mediterranean cancer survivors' park. Green bottle flies the size of hummingbirds droned their white noise of optimistic dirges and lullabies, as if to lay paving stones for oblivion to rock along down on its squarish wheels. A grease that acted as courage-in-a-vessel for Nature glugged sloshing through art-ceramic channels to every life in a nirvanic system which bid a deserved nod of its fertile date palm fronds to the stylized irrigation ditches at Al-Qal‘at al-Ḥamrā’.

But next thing you knew he'd found a length of masking tape blown from one of the costume trailers in the sanitation district's haunted village. With a chunk of abandoned picnic charcoal briquette, he wrote in caps with the sticky side imobilized in grass: I WAS A COLLEGE PROFESSOR.

We found him sitting in his own shit, autobiography unbecoming as a headband, speckled with the organic spray of chaff and seed and grit that invisibly sandblasts the open night and all those who may be closed up in it.


by Mike
"having encountered Ilyn in the midst of an expression rarely sensed by humans. Just by luck. On the way home from a medieval-themed piano bar near the run-down shops along the sea wall."

career v. trajectory

 

when you left a heath bar and some toilet paper next to me unobtrusively, i froze into a sacred position and felt the whole world around me, in its dark cacophony.  now in daylight, i see whut i've wrought, these irons.

Mahlabeya

Union "Chapel" 

wailing

gut flora

While renting a uhaul, the
in the process of hiring a truck,
some of the vendor's stomach flora
released and attached to my face.

you could almost see the blooms
of coli as they splashed on your
eyes' moist surfaces and flocked the
uvula. Even five hours later, my

his gut mosses linger in my sinus
chambers and continue to stimulate
synapses reserved for archetypes,
arranged marriages, harsh caprices.



by Tom
"How life can be separated between tomorrow and today, where I've forsaken society by knowing almost no one but the famous. How I've changed home into a structure that had spent a year splayed in three separate but potentially interlocking components, in a meadow, with sticky bee hives seeping throughout it that would start a walkathon movement among any normal gathering of concerned citizens... How in 40 thought-out moves not a one was aimed at something like whatever this is, but something measurably better... But how the plain truth is that, with a fat bitch laying by my side, I can spring forward into the same strange land that you are all trying to navigate, how I can live in horror and sanity somehow, all integrally, where a plan is a map and a map is a planet... Sylvia... come back to me..."

Cuernavaca

Cuernavaca, under key and lock, a
passenger in his own custody for
so many gin-rocks that his massage chair
could have flown to Mexico, but they
wunt be enough air in the city for he
and his ex, who would talk about him.

They'd met at an enchilada party, shared
an edible guac basket. They breathed the
smoky ambient grease in and out and
bobbed in their pelvises to a dvd-rom.
Mouth-rolled cigarette filters littered
themselves freely on small lamp tables.

Who does it make you, a pino with no
woods, Cuernavaca? If spring birds
never seen you then what's yr name?
Are yor lungs still clenched with the
wisp of char that yr breath took away?
Cuernavaca, la enchilada ya no te quiere.

weltschmerz v. theodicy

Where to go when yr hungry and it's too late.
Hikikomori's, where dress is not an issue,
or a table corner at Anomie if yr also wanting

a mantle, something willing to absorb a man's
debris field, show a measurable blossom of
participation vs. enthusiasm, intent to self-

regale. Some claim a life form emits an iodine
that can aid in digestion when it isn't yours
and isn't pale. So relax, your urge is benign.


Tom
"My boss is Wayne."

Theodicy [the Mp3]

Greatest good

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SPu59h8OrL4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ta-F4NAVURs

Hoolie, 16, bursts out in tears while visiting his best friend's family at the Waymore D'Nuttn Homes, Southchank. It's a 19-floor aviary of blacks, with views of 16 more. They rode the potty elevator with a tough 9-yr-old Mom in Pink Tube Top. Everything strong, everything dented: steel door, bricks, dense turf. What if bees banged their tin cups on comb wire. What if no one can't leave anyone alone because he appears to share some blood. Because there are no shops tho, what you have is more valued by neighbors.

"Where I laughed and played is a hole in yor eyes."
"No, there must be love around I'm sure."

Then the boys ducked into the mother's perfumey wardrobe hollow behind a changing table and fellated each other. It was a taste of the greatest good ever, or else they'd never have gotten together.

Less like mayhem

There were survivors, but they experience mood swings (happy, sad; or happy, sad, then quickly happy, then sad for a while; or sad, sadder, somewhat happy, then saddest of all, only to end the day on a light note...).

Too bad their accounts come across so bland, due to meds, as to be unstable. Good thing someone can sweep in and take up where stark reality quits, keep the tracking smooth, even in a temp-est of shite.

My reporter's emotional waveline makes a narrative of these lives just as your finger might follow an aircraft outta jive, spinning a bed spring of smoke behind, which looks a lot less like mayhem when you feel what's in it.


Phyllis
"Freelancing isn't free."

Semenuncle Journey

flipping bacon naked

Meat turn three taiymes

d'mo likely da burnya bb.
mai verge day cn be prr-
deen tinse, th'out no hep
frm th'nvirenmnt. yo be-
ss ment wurds? only mk
me frgitcha waleye focus
own cookin brefuss chall.

She Gotta Bigole Heyud 

Wachit grrls! She gotta bigole heyud.
an she gonna licki. She piss her own
daughter' beyud. Grrowl, piss, licki,
spread, she a bitchona water beyud,
were whichit could git sticky, freyun.

dull leather bell 

yung wombmate, yu must forgive me
for i contact you only once on a manic
mission, once eighty fortnights. when
i come up for air, i scream back thru t
-he ages, and there you are, the same
flowered grrl. sometimes i have not e-
ven grown a year since i saw you ther
-e. only layers of shame and emprison
-ment blanket me from your hair and
flowing skirts and love, which i also h-
ave memories of in nearly half a cent-
ury slogging toward a dull leather bell.

mod child 

mod child, you blame yorself
mod child, yor daisy frowns
mod child, yor invested in color
mod child, what a large belt buckle
mod child, you wear a Sears medallion
mod child, even domestic violence is mod
everything you do mod child
could be on a color tv or in space
you could be reduced to black and white dots
why can't others feel the love that you want
[and freeze]

distruck-shone 

To the mother vol-
cano, there is no hu-
nting; the food kill
itself and jump in
your mouth. Are
you in? Now that we
have centuries of da-
ta we find we're rare-
ly wrong. We want no-
t only to record but al-
so guide the
metamorphosis of yor
distruck-shone.

Vine and Dope 

Hoolie lungs hang on he shoulders deep as a crucifixion, cep he atta bar.
He keep watch there for anything that could go down in the drunk wurl.
Hoolie hold down those years of yore year after year for love, also fear.

What had survival become. Vine and dope, touch surfaces, shake hair,
fabrics like bandages, rocking and staring, truly caring? Him'n Donna, m
-irror balls on sheet of lights with others watching? Tam ended when the

dead stopped living, a long tam ago. Now they had to hold it there for all
of the butt-plug troopers who could no longer, no longer be, and no long-
-er aware. If you could only strap corpses into something stimulatory...