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Kick me out, and keep me out!!

I should have known there would already be a gay Paul Bunyan & Babe the Blue Ox series of X-rated adventures.

The reason I didn't know is that I hate reading gay fiction as a genre which of course also makes it hard to write both since I hate it and also having to reinvent the wheel.

Lesson: Every wheel has already been invented. Playing naive nobody will buy it. That you are so un-read. As to have no idea about it and also arrogant.

Once again I swear it's alright if you want to cancel me do it now, eat me first. I want to take full advantage of the benefits resulting from catastrophe.

Stop me while I'm still sizzling hot, boys. I've grown exponentially more irresistibly rugged (although now i'm reaching the top): Because too many bullies in gladiator camp

I'm a dropout. All my training has been direct and in the field, them or me, and when society was a child. A man's got no choice but to go it alone when he knows that

Any group he joins will have a remarkably similar percentage of bullies looking for a long-term relationship, and they will smell you and they will come to you.

Better taking them as they come on the street or in an office and take them unsparingly, as if your own life means nothing to you, in fact less to you than it obviously does to a bully

Neither those who are infatuated with you nor you yourself are a gift of or to society; we are the necessary triggers that build natural defenses that make pearls from

Grains of discord, hot with hate, covered over by hardening slime, an anti-semen, shadow excretion that enrages men, makes them crazy for about on each other.

And then there is Paul, alone with a super-human animal, which says it all.



by Ilyn
(and Shab, of course)

Metaproject: Project List

I have only three thangs to say:
mm, mm, and mm. Mm-mm-mm.

The download page is infected with
malware.

My instrument will not play. It is
rendered useless without the proprietary software packages.

Momentarily the keys tooted like a "funky organ,"
then nothing, and all other sounds followed

into that electronic drain hole if they were even
being produced at all by that point

all music, no matter the source, was
ravaged

how ravaged was it you might ask?
I would say very ravaged.

To the point where the only sounds were
created by the cooling fans within the console itself.



Dr. Donna Spah-Thong
"Once a doctor, always a doctor."

I am a robot and I will save your life if you turn over all your worldly goods to me

We ask how some of the tenets of houseist theory can be extrapolated.

A houseist might set accessibility, for example, as a special category for cleaning evaluations. Orderliness or what we normally think of as orderliness does not necessarily apply as a best practice here. I know where my phone is because it's in the phone place. The phone place doesn't need a sign or assignment in either physical or digital worlds. I can't keep my phone place on my phone, for example, because it exists in my mind, which is after all a perfectly legitimate place to keep information especially when situations are so fluid as to render hand-drawn signs or even typed file names instantly moot.

Having crap all over the place can make good sense during periods of uncertainty and flux. However, be mindful of how widespread that crap and how big the sides like stress level to maintain it for long periods, especially after the bottom layers become resolved and have achieved waste or archive status, where the norms of "cleaning" kick back into place.



Donna
From "Notes for presentation proposal: Association of the Meta-Cognitive Talk Therapy Apologist Movement National Convention, Tulsa, Oklahoma, 'Hanging Out Matters,' 2020."

they seem delusional

first there was the cutest baby cardinal, big head
hopping in grass cut to his bib

then the warning came out take cover now
went for a walk, fed the dog

south side windows were sunny
in the north clouds were sucking

it's unstable, yet the babies play
we agreed to don masks

but also adding mimicry of foreign accents
and false mustaches

mayor sez bein a K shouldn't be a life sentence
though some think it one

but they've made it so they can put you in a
cage made of human tissue and bones

and you live there letting others love your
life, can't hear your cries

if we could step out of the chicken suit
and just go on a date

but the context baby is previously owned
they might seem delusional

but this is our home, in their sleep. wait
a bit longer till they're gone.



by Peg
(Petty Entry-level Geriatric)

Seeing Red, Except It's Blue

flower child's child's child's child
please don't look backwards
to see the flowers

pricks can create an itch that
you might not even mention
for the pain

even smiling, beware the
words that only sound good
singing




by Reptily
"In retrospect."

apenas, juan

apenas, juan
que olvidara
your sister's name

apenas, y nunca
podria dejarte in
Spain.

por si caso leas
tu esta nota de
botella

no me digas
que no me quieras
mas que ella



por Santorabo

This is the proper way to pronounce your name in my language

We manipulated a web learning object
that had been set up to spell your name
using negative adjectives about people.

each adjective came with a story card
that created a comic strip about you
based on the spelling of your name.

but then we quickly realized we couldn't
play drums and breathe at the same time
for example. We also began to hear spirit

pipes of the ancestors, and when the
spells came, i recognized that i was in
fact dictatorial obtuse nerd nerd awkward.



by Donna

gross roach jar

hypnotic mix of cool and blue-grey weather
i reject each and every part of my life and yours

there's a psychological test to gauge which
board of directors will take charge of your

then you are released, like a product, out onto
the wavy game board. they get a win from you.

everyone with a 401k, a pension, is on your side
those who'd terminate the sick aren't economists

any more than the cure makers are. Who's to
say what creates the widest wellness overall?

a glass jar gets heat from a micro compost heap
the stinking contents swell from months half

baked. every item in the supply chain is reas-
sessed and slated for such a contingency plan

your bottles, your breads and cake, pork fat
render your freedom moot in many scenarios

as i sit here denying your existence i feel peace
the stillness of utter failure and condemnation

but the heart ticks on not for perfection but
rather revenge, karmic verdict, i sit here in

prayer for your punished agency girlish plans
selfishness turned sour every visible feature

of the material word with a sign on it saying
you piece of shit you fucked up fuck you for-

ever. and then, peace. for me. peace in some
relish a hammock of amorality a non-necessity

even to breath to allow the bichos the fauna to
crawl as did the Buddha beneath a dripping tree





Dr. Donna Thong
Temporary Emergency Credential Pending

todays dog walk

my cedar infested with orange-jelly
gall blossom tentacles

change of shades in spring-mown
lawn grass

back at control center swivel chair
coffee-mug warmer

Invisible circuitry, multi-purpose
sprays, death game

The Extended Real Job Experience

• Lil' Baby
• Prop son
• Church singer
• Preacher's organ monkey
• extra
• Gifted schoolboy
• news deliverer
• dreamy root-beer hop
• Rebellious hot-pants wearing meadow runner
• Theater jock
• Woods freak
• People's free meat grocery cashier
• Fur vault hunchback
• Partier
• Precocious beatnik throwback
• Club dancer
• Ho
• Brash critic
• Xerox operator
• club poet
• sideshow
• tutor
• Penitent teacher of children
• Sober beach guy
• Demigod, gym
• Security Guard, parking lot
• Estampificador of deeds
• Daily sub: East LA
• Counselor, the bad boys
• Weekend staff, group home
• Long-term sub, single
• Private teacher, Major European Country, Confidential
• Small groups, companies, individuals, conversation, native, pleasant affect, expensive
• Adjunct, Ancient European University, Confidential
• Internet rodeo rider, supervising
• Universal contender
• Downsizer, deflector of the exploited
• Local community college superstar
• Rhetorical Cage Fighter
• Monster (pariah)
• New Guy is an Old Guy (Meh)
• Turner of It Up a Notch or Two Too Much Higher
• No
• My Bed (that I had made) Recliner
• shiksa
• Sadhu, wandering
• Useful American Pet Uncle for spawn of oil kingdom
• Consumer zealot
• Dealer in Overpriced Antiquities

labor issue

it writhed in the stainless steel basin
that and deep aquamarine rubber
were the first colors ever seen

its core was a vertical windmill
that spun with the vagaries of
gaze regard media touch action

like any wheel, finally redundant
yet carrying on because of physics
yet in control of the money presses

Today's dog walk

I went to an emergency website for dough that doesn't rise
There were a number of interventions
but no admonishment for panic

Apparently there's a sinkhole in the bottom of the gut
n' when it's raw from taking want and glut
it starts to pump its own philosophy

Today's dog walk

A crow fought perhaps with himself
One set of wings and needles of the bough
Bouncing and of course squawking

He looks like the dog who lives there.
Well, he isn't.
He's handsome! Or she is.

Cold sun, a parkway middle of the tulip
stand had exploded sawdust added
perhaps explaining the power outage.

Today's dog walk

Whiter snow than has ever been seen before
brushed on grass that's already deep green, not mowed

Looking up, vultures still enjoying their advantage
above whose house circling, we get closer faster

than just our own click; it's that they too are edging
toward us. Contrast the anxious red swelling waxy

buds on the grey branches against the pale sky
and fifteen or so carnivorous brothers and sisters

Today's dog walk

Was it a crouching child...
then a mini stegosaurus
turned toward a neighbor's
back tree and proceeded
straight up the trunk at pace

Another neighbor's tree
is home to vultures who
seem to feel relevant now
and ignore threats from
us our pets vehicles they

circle and repopulate
beam in on all that's weak
gently bobbing sleep
from the strongest pine
can see who's in pain

Today's dog walk

today's dog walk yielded
neighbors voices set up
chords and sounded edgy
overall, but the words
under my radar, perhaps
not M'Lady's, those are
utterances at focused
determined desperation
within rooms self-talk
moderate to low volume.

and yes sure lower levels
of hostility and or spleen
which one's grateful for
not sustainable and only
the views of hundreds of
millions of elastic tape
cinch it and now you can
every home a vector not
goat tied to a stump for
and they'll keep winning.

Flack

These are real hours of the day
They're not stolen hours
Except that they're stolen from myself

Staying up late as if no one can see
Or imagine my non-participation as
they sleep

I've stolen these hours for safety and
reflection, a safe space for flights of
fancy and abandon

Not like the halogen lamp towering
dark above the settee, alien in a
mid-century nostalgia motif

I can wander the home like Nixon or
Ray Miland, experiencing life as
it is

While you rise early and clean yet
clean again, and tip-toe across the
dark like it's some foreign enemy

It only takes me minutes to say what
I have to say to the day
and a minute tomorrow, sure, for the flack



Jackie Lush

Beautiful thing

It was a beautiful thing to get to know black men, black-as-black men who took me in.
But did I get the reputation, among them, that I was a type of white-and-into-them men.

How can you not love black men when you are standing in their den and they're alright
and relaxed with you there, showing their delight that you're a special theirs-with-them

I receive the red rice and beans, up until the sleeping part of the crib, where there are
coal-red blankets twisted, instead of a proper bed, silky bare mattress, authority, agency

There never was a more generous give-and-take relationship as there in those rooms,
above a business, removed from patrimony between the government cheese shipments



Ja-taym, pour Hoolie

Dragged behind me from 1980

rage
foul moth
fossilized dance communication
two chords
self-regard as
sick, damned and therefore
exempt as the dead
terror of nuclear
Montgomery Ward striped jersey
photos
standing next to a wrecked car
brave young
poseur
counter-whatever
smash
anything in the dark
beacon invert
letters and cards
black
disdain
comfort
cash
hungry trail
chain of gossamer
some of the men
relics of others



by Santorabo

Trapped in that everyone knows where I am

The accoutrements are still.
If every chirp or high whining or hum were a voice
we'd be at wedding level
oops sensitive word

the furnace sucks and pushes
as if the dog is on a ventilator
yet I must remind myself to breath?
I have to stand vigil at the windows

Being saved from myself, my
driving, alter ego of hope-to-die
stock car racer; saved
from every awkward or otherwise face to face

medium grey sky, shadowless
indoors and out, fading not
falling, what if the sun were a
moving motion sensor

and if it could see your fingers type
it would snap back up to twelve again?
I want to suspend all movement to
sit and let the star sink in the dark



Para ti, Eduardo
Santorabo

Peenbo M'Shang

Googa day
getch wuntz
aney cumatcha
awtam wiyut
bushma buntz
talam-laka boa
peenbona
peenbo m'shang



by Reptily

0

i was sleeping a lot
but a couple nights with one eye open
but i was also dreaming my ass off

uhm one guy he was a gentleman
his other half, also a waiter, wore
white while he wore black

and the same people sitting around
as i spin the wheel
their influence is an ocular trick

mostly it's not about trying to become
but what to do once
you are one

the unique smells and light of madrid
mixed with vinyas and this
house, here in the cobbs



por Santorobo

singed bridge

singed bridge singed bridge
I don't care about it
singed bridge

no longer does what doesn't
kill you make you stronger,
no longer

what doesn't kill you also
kills you but it
just takes longer

stronger was just another
click on the dial
the bright face of times past

stronger, now more,
has gone to the next
man's flower

Angry portero

What does it matter if i empty the
garbage when the cubos are inside or
outside when he´s mad either way?

Futuristic Joint

respectable example of a category
humming and high-pitched ubiquity

hold your hair up in a fist bun,
everyone; blow out your assumptions

rough and fine

Matanza
en estas mismas colinas
huyeron a la playa

La mujer se ha convertido
la cuna en un sofá con
almohadas

No importa la altitud de
los techos, te vas a romper
la cabeza



por Santorabo

routine psychedelia

there was a center forming images
barely able to find its vision in a

field of flag-waving motif
it was a foetus but not a baby

not a fox, but then a dog i know
then the consciousness decided

to self-freak, self-prank, and i
was having nothing of it i said

bring it on, your worms and teeth
it can't hurt me, and i like the horror

so in his passive-aggressive wisdom,
Braino sends a tap-dancing suit of

armor, and this was how i could tell
that sleep had vanquished spirographics




Love, Illyn

K Groom

when you talk so long
my responses build and ebb
without making noise



for Missy
by Phyllis (embedded)

street cred

Despite the moral and health risks i still cherish my connections to the dark side, stated La Chama. They give me the street cred i need with some of the flakes. They fill blanks in my self-mythologizing. Let me tell the shiv in a ramshakle temple until morning and my spirit will be ready as the scored flesh of brother Ilyn, as he rolls, in his square-wheeled cart.


Phyllis, embedded

K's Fly Spread Eagle

Green-grey monkeys dipped down from the overhang with the moss and the misters swinging between the ukuleles and the hats and undress you and dress you up again in little outfits while you walked past the shop windows perhaps with a rum-and-fruit drink and without even slowing you down unless you wanted to stop and admire your reflection. These little guys had amazing taste, a trained eye for the right ensemble and all by guesswork on the measurements.

For this reason La Chama had become accustomed to strolling topless through the streets even in the evening after work with a nice wool skirt and a briefcase. Her shoulder monkey, Jock, covered his bald head with his silly, long fingers in feigned embarrassment at all the attention his mistress would get from mammals and flakes and the deities and the bitches and the College of Cement. Ranging from a lifted eyebrow to a flash of angry, swollen anal gland from the packs of male K teens.

Some say Missy emerged hideous from the perfect chrysalis of the Chama as easy as a zipper. Because the K's had a visceral reaction of hate when they see her as if she were an archetype of that which circled over their nesting caves in their earliest memories even though she has the perfect soft brown body of a flake.




by Phyllis, embedded

Da Badonkuments

Da badonka donkuments bedda be deh
Be day onca-mockument o da tacomen
Cuz ivdey donbe ocu-lockumenz we gon
upan sockyo polka-munny sum taybo sun



by Jan

Remorse of Battle

If good men, both victor and vangquished burn from remorse of battle
if you have been vicked or vanged, maybe you could be good
Any machine without hate would quickly move on



La Chama
Fgmt. unknown

Bitch's snow tracks are a portrait of herself crapping on lawn

How I Experience Communication

Do you see anything like a lip moving on my face?

No. That's because I am talking to you, and I don't do it with a mouth. You are only even hearing the English because it's my organic empathic system that makes it not even matter and it's the biology of your no-K braino that turns it into recognizable symbols. In fact, did you know that if it weren't for the human capacity for what you call "denial," your flakes and no-K's could not even reproduce? Would not be able to.

So... I wish you would look me in the eye, an organ we have in common, and state your credentials as a professional by implication of your manner, sir.



by Missy

The Coarsening of Society

First, you did not even look me in the eye before lifting my preen lid.

Also, "What's your name?" is not the answer to any possible client inquiry.

You make what, low six figures? You're a professional K Hygienist?

I tell you I have a question. You answer what's your name. And don't look at me?

Put my lid down. You don't have permission.

I'd like to speak with a K.



by Missy

The Deep Straight

There's a water stain around the dog watering area
It's left a pattern of seeking its level in fine chalk
And there's another bowl sitting next to the dog
watering tank that has water in it. The dog watering
tank is functional, but it takes more effort to clean
and fill than a glass mixing bowl, which is what
the dog has been drinking out of. No one wants to
clean up the chalky wet mess around the dog water-
ing area, so both the bowl and the tank remain.




by Jan

High fog across the great lakes region

high fog across the great lakes region
i try to land but for the hoes and rakes

this season, i'll sprinkle my criticisms,
toss in a prank if i'm feeling that wry

the sky, where I hover, is the last place
you'd sweep for the source of stank

and when I cry it seems purely natural
to think of me and have a little wank



By Jan

Activity table

i mouthed a southwestern melody
reminiscent of hollywood and
suede fringe costumes, similar to

the counter-intuitive, at times a-
tonal chinese hollywood music,
but without percussion, yet I

wailed my plaintive harmonies
to the west in all earnestness
thinking of their fires and loss


by Donna

Wasted in Good Shoes

sure that's the story of my life
wasted in good shoes because
for what more have I requested

my current job: to create a task
to practice the replacement of
low-info words with high ones.

i feel i could say more but why
who i ask who wants to know
who's not up their ass aloof with

terror. disguised also as disdain
who's not afraid or disdainful?
even the professionals shame

themselves over the inadequa-
cy of their trade to quell the tide
of bullshit the great leveler

doctors blame their own lazy
arrogance inventors their
craven leveraging monetizing

used to be you could ask who
do i see if i wanna put an enemy
to rest answer was your army

now it isn't even alarming when
every store front a font for mur-
der, your own reflection in the

glass could for a moment make
you wonder is that pale beast a
killer or how disdainful at best



Dr. Donna Thong

Take Your Pants Off, Mr. Green Jeans

That tingling at top of head and breathlessness, nonspecific terror
Dogs me from garbage disposal to mailbox and out to the car
The icebergs dropping off: missed tax year due to obama care
The amount I owe exceeds what I'd saved by having an insurer
And I can't get ahead because I can't afford accountants or a lawyer
And if I want to refinance, I'll need that year's return to get out of here
To pay off the down payment from the government I got to stay 5 years
But then almost anyone would pay to get out of solitary
All my friends and lovers i used to call a non-traditional family back there
Spread back into the winds that always caress the desert
From dry air I come to this fungal great lakes misery
At least there's less sun to contribute to my recurrent skin cancers.

by Donna

worker child

have gravy, tenderloin and flair jeans
vinyl case for cigarette pack with
a loop and snap top for the lighter

four to midnight get a break time
with a magazine or paper; maybe
you wrote a letter to the editor

a room with mechanical machines
a room with towering reel-to-reel
tape drives behind formica, buttons

green and red and yellow blinking
reset beepers with timers, and your
whole arm could hold 13 or so reels

this weight on the arms of a ballet
trainee, 13 on each arm, the wrists
having fit through the holes perfectly

the lead operator had a racket going
slapping reset buttons, barking at
us to reset the beeping buttons so it

would look like we were attending
to the reels much more quickly than
we were or possibly could have done

planning to spend the rest of the
night dancing in a club, sweating,
drinking, dancing, cabbing home.



by Hoolie

Smart-ass child with an enormous beard

Smart-ass child with an enormous beard
you seem to appear as well from behind steam

and in your wisdom
have chosen a medallion

to commemorate a playoff
at your neck

you swore the newer technology
did not come with an adapter plug
but of course it did

Sorn Gorn Dorn

sorn gorn dorn
naw tamir
ini stone
way we leaf

tayco stain
ona watu sai
you k hee
butta wa-ai pay

[repeat]

Pharmsupply's Prolabique LipLine Master-Lisp "Lipstickventory" Name Galleys 88rx: lipsticks 2020

• all i get is pretty
• a pinch
• blankets for teeth
• blind fury
• blowers for algernon
• blur
• Bogue R. Dit
• brank-ish
• breeder
• bubbles
• cashed bowl
• category 6
• chipotle wind
• duck-taped pepper grinder
• eyelids of the mouth
• fi'nna
• fish clamp
• go boom 
• great lakes region
• grrrainy day
• hairy
• how devastating?
• indefensible
• lawn salad
• morgue ship
• move-over ripe
• nothingburger
• ocular migraine
• pay me
• perverse motivation
• property value
• ribbon event
• salted slug
• shiny purse
• Showing Green
• slapjack
• smartass
• smoking lines
• so...
• soccer ball
• Sorn Gorn Dorn
• steak
• stitches
• sugar drift
• thin
• topless
  
• torn open
• torrid crepe
• twouldn't
• very devastating
• void
• warm roach
• when
• white on tan
• wrap
• you know, I don't? but thank you

When?

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed with hate, resentment, exasperation, anger

Sounds come out my mouth or I have to slam a door

And if the door doesn't slam satisfyingly

Heaven help the the the...


Does it matter if I get home early, late anymore-- I mean who is there?

At least at work it feels like I have a purpose or

I am interacting with other human beings

Am I too enmeshed with my dog and and...


The most passionate engagement is with other cars in traffic

My entire body becomes involved in utterances

My heart pounds harder and longer even perhaps than

When when when when?



by Donna

Homeschooled Master Race

I hope I spanked him like his daddy never could.

Thanks for dropping off letter and Shiv book

Thanks for your note, Aunt Jan. Pastor Caviar (see link) could better answer your Shiv question. He is just the tip of the iceberg of reasons why I feel highly allergic to "theology."

Perhaps well-meaning Shiv stars can be found in large numbers behind the right-wing politicians that are taking over the world and the same ideologies that Grandpa Jansdaad died fighting in Europe.

Most of the civilized world sees Shivas as dupes to a very dark political agenda that we see being successfully carried out before our eyes as our planet dies and our democracies crumble.

I'll be reading Uncle Jan's letter, but not the book.

Love, Jan

I'm no theologian

I'm no theologian, but I do evaluate human arguments for a living, and I can tell you that neither of yours is anything to write home about.

As regards the wedding, I maintain that an ounce of compassion weighs more than a ton of theology.

I apologize for my own scorched-earth rhetoric on this topic to date, but I hope you wouldn't hold that against Jan.

I've shown up for two of Jan Janzdaad's weddings, and for me that was about respect and love and family. It had also meant a great deal to me when she came for her visit to Chukkachank.

I'm sure I can't adequately explain how painful it is to see and hear your responses, which from my point of view come across as cold, cruel, selfish, petty, and clueless. Admittedly, I got the ball rolling with overwrought, hyperbolic, crass, sarcastic, and disrespectful.

As the only son of your only brother, Jan, how many favors have I asked of you? Is there mistake or misdeed I have the power to put right that could help persuade? Weren't you supposed to say something to us back in WD93 like "If there's ever anything..."?

I'm going to suggest to Jan that, if your attendance really is important to her, that she call or write to each of you to let you know. I've begun to wonder how well you understand the importance of this to her. Or perhaps it's me who doesn't understand. Or perhaps Jan won't even come to think about it seriously until after it's too late.

Please understand that in reaching out to you, I mean to reach out for a stronger, warmer, closer, safer human bond between us as people, family members, Americans-- not to try and break your religion.

by Jan

Low-class hillbilly breeder cult

Without that, all the Bible verses in the world are useless.

Maybe you have already changed the lock

WD

Dear Peg:

Please find enclosed what Hoolie described as a copy of his apartment key.

Maybe you have already changed the lock, but I thought he and you would feel better having this back.

You probably agree that it’s probably not a good idea for a tenant to provide a key to a paramour and then to immediately “ghost” that paramour. Few actions piss people off more, I believe, than being showered with affection for months, including the promise of cohabitation, and then one day nothing—you are barred from all platforms, like you never existed.

It’s what the kids are doing these days that passes for breaking up and/or replaces having to have difficult conversations, I guess. I wish I was still a kid.

Of course I started out pissed off, then I was distraught, then suspicious, and now just very, very, very sad.

Maybe Hoolie is also sad and wishes we could start again…. maybe he is diabolical and cruel—I no longer can hazard a guess. I don’t know what to think. (If he was dead, I don’t think he would have taken the trouble to remove himself from TwatsApp).

I’m telling you all this because we’ve met and you seem decent, that you care about Hoolie, and that you seem curious by nature.

Perhaps I am seeking a better understanding about the situation since you may know him better. I am truly at a loss.

Thanks again for helping with my hooptie—I wish this situation were similarly just a big mistake, but I fear it’s just the new normal.

Best regards,



Jan

The next affair

could be a junkie sees a vision how he gonna land
but he don't mind still peaking from the medicine

face plant ass sticking up into the quiet air
won't seem so bad if you keep planning for the next affair



by Jan

Coming out ahead

i still have some of the energy
i got from the bad thing we had
not sure if that means i'm
coming out ahead
because before it started
i was so miserable



by Jan

If it's BPD

if this is a bpd thing
i'm willing to work with you on it
no cancel that
it's intractable and always brief
if that's what it is
i'm sure it's already over



by Jan

Destructive to a relationship

Well i've been waiting with my
phone on my body all day
hoping you would buzz me
this makes me really sad
this freezing behavior is painful and
i don't think i deserve it
it's destructive to a relationship



by Jan

You're fake

You're fake
That's ok
It was fun
Now fuck off



by Jan

bocas colgantes

the night it's dark
our love it sparks
a vision

the rest a tale
our ships they sail
parallel

our breath as one
the legs they run
in tandem

our pasts they're gone
our now it's found
yawning wide




Vikki Brazil

Bricked In Pot Den

bricked in pot den
quarter size kitchen
bitch on a sofa
tricks outta nowhere

winter is six month
dinner posthumous
laundry is downstair
lights blink to it



Vicki Dublin

Psychodrama

[Enter JAN JANZDAAD, JR]

JAN JR: You know, you and mom assume that if you didn't have kids or each other, you'd be animals. So you assume I'm an animal because I don't have a wife or kids.

JAN SR: Jan! Come on now. Let's take a step back here honey.

JAN JR: So you don't deny it.

JAN SR: What's to... Honey? Are you hearing this? Get in here would you?

JANET JANZDAAD [drying her hands with a dishtowel]: I'm hearing some kind of bullshit guys do you want to take it outside like a couple of animals or go and make me some dinner while I sit and pay bills?

JAN SR: Come on honey, let's all sit down.

JANET JANZDAAD: I'm serious these have to go out, and after last time I'm not dropping everything for family psychodrama ever again.

JAN JR: It's all psychodrama Mom, whether you're sitting on the pit group in your sunken living room or acting it all out in the other common areas or even off in some big anonymous city with a bunch of questionable lifestyle choices.

JANET JANZDAAD [rifling through a drawer]: That's a dig at your sister isn't it.

JAN JR: C'mon Mom don't you agree that you feel like you hold the moral high ground just automatically because well A because you are female B because mother and C you are currently married and have kids. ...Mmm?

[JAN JR AND JAN SR MAKING DINNER IN KITCHEN WHILE JANET SITS AT THE DESK IN THE FRONT HALL AND PAYS BILLS]

JAN SR: Get me the box of Panko out of that cabinet son would you.

JAN JR: Italian or... Bad. Stale.

JAN SR: The not-bad one.

JAN JR: Yeah I don't care if you don't wash your hands before you handle those thighs but afterward I would recommend.

JAN SR: Would you?

JAN JR: Yes. 



Vicki London

easy torture button

i cannot take it
i cannot take it anymore
i cannot take it
i'm at death's door

there is a girl
who i want to be friends
but just as girls
as in girlfriends

there is a boy
i want to get to know
but he won't let me in
cuz of his girl friend

they a buddy who gay
so the scene is set
cept i'm not feeling it
if it's shit life is dealing it

i cannot take the rape the
the involuntary celibacy and
there is no in between b'cause
that's where sex happens

cannot, cannot take
the hate i hate
i hate it
cannot take it cannot


Lil' Susan Sontag, Bitch
[repeat]

Obsessive cold medicine dreaming

about an ordinary woman charged with euthanizing the entire world's supply of frozen chicken parts/ familiarity with cactus and manzanita had helped her accept the barren winter figures of the midwest/ but when it came to getting around in the great lakes cities she made connections but couldn't get off/ can now identify a traditional kitsch landmark in each neighborhood while zooming past; however,/ has to arrange for all the workers and trucks from a cell interface munching wings at tollway oases



Vicki Moscovi

Replacement of Predatory Capitalism

Zoloft................................dumbbells

Xanax................................reading paper in bed

Doxepin............................walk up hill

Trazadone......................... reading paper in bed



Vicki San Jose

i can't wait for the right words to come

i can't wait for the right words to come
by then i'll be blasted from the environment
it's too late to finely hone my vocabulary
when my sanctuary from memory loss is

i wake up feeling like my face is falling off
a look in the mirror says the same about it
an animal wouldn't think but commence to lick
lame deer or fox will take the next logical step

words don't leave a vacancy more like an opening
for feelings to rush in unabated and with impunity
for crying children who once were shining princes
now nature's truest colors bleed through the fences

a stomping wild feud in a context of deregulation
nobody took a step back and said you're being used
because you had a set of rules and disabused them
you'd got too big to question when the law came in

i can't wait for the right words to come
by then i'll be locked in a penitentiary
it's too late to finely hone my obituary
when my sanctuary from memory loss is



by Donna

i'm highly intolerant/ of my environment

 

let's see how can i be not crazy, a guy 

ranting about weevils at the safeway

the baseline behavioral expectations targeted by drugs

my constitution eschews ordinariness like a new liver

because i am special i want to feel special every moment of every day

and i do feel special but too often it's especially allergic to everyone

Lord, i pray: i'm a special but i need to feel like nothing special most of the while

or i get worked up into a pickle thinking your children are idiots and brutes, and i 

forget to smile.

by Jan

I Am Movement, Part 111111

Killing it at the gym. Like when I tried to do one of those high turnaround kicks and totally missed the bag while I was also going off on it with highly focused one-two punches but mostly lots of awkwardly realistic quotidian fighting moves. Never dancing. Brutish, bare knuckled. Ever thought of going off on some guy that really deserves a punch in the face? I don't, normally. But when there is a punching bag before me, I believe I can shred it or myself before I'm done. I can feel the lashing out and I do it. At the thing. Hurts, feels good.

I smell the way gyms smelled when I was young at the gym. These guys have eerily no smell. Though one in the pantheon of personal trainers had apologized for cooking Brussels sprouts in the break room. That is the young person's smell of today, a boiled vegetable. But they seem to feel good inside when you get them talking.

Through a young male character, Elsa Morante writes "TRUE MANLY GREATNESS CONSISTS IN THE COURAGE TO ACT, IN DISDAIN FOR DANGER, AND IN VALOR DISPLAYED IN COMBAT." I was heartened, vainly, by "disdain for danger." That is me. Oh, and I act. But I may always recall the moment this afternoon, ascending a darkened stair, when I muttered, "I've reached a new low." Among lows, this one specifically was a lowness of amorality. It was victory and loss at once. I'd come upon perhaps the perfect revenge: the truth.

This morning I woke up again already sorting through scenarios for appropriate responses to the police threat, which would be quite a coup for his side if we were gaming, which each of us often were. I considered online bullying, for example. So tawdry. Willing to go darker nevertheless, I imagined approaching J during one of his epic play afternoons, with a pseudonym, as a sexy, underage gamer boy. Entrapping him and embarrassing hopefully to the level that I had been embarrassed when he decided that our neighbors and once again, the Rolling Riches PD, should all be privy to my non-threatening albeit a little menacing passionate pen letter, and add to that his stroke of genius in getting it done without having to come into contact at any point with the dirty authorities directly!

The creepy trapping and shaming scheme did bear fruit sideways: instead, I would address my suspicions and indeed evidentiary knowledge of J's untoward interest in little boys and in the idea of himself as a sexual little boy-- not unlike, come to think of it, an MJ of an earlier time. One last letter to the family could be gotten off before any prohibitions to that effect could come my way-- I'd only heard that the dreaded "trigger" (J is such a drama queen, ironically, behind that often dead and inexpressive mug) involved telephone calls, and my own lawyer had only admonished me not to contact J in any way-- nothing was said about the family. And apart from my other scheme, to go and steal all the bagels at his favorite store before he can get there on the day they come in, I didn't think direct contact was a good idea either.

Subj: Pretty sure J is a pederast

Dear R,

I won't be bothering you any further. Just need to tell you that there is a concern about J and his feelings toward young boys. I don't know if he would/ will act or has acted on them, but I didn't think he would act on other weird, inappropriate boundary issues either, and I've learned otherwise. You have grand-kids around, right? That's why I mention it.

As I say, I don't want to bother you or J any further.

There-- that last part I can't describe as-- well, any of the parts maybe as "valor in combat." It was for my own protection, a reassurance that was really more begging her not to let him call the police over this now. I don't know how I would handle that. And I have a choice still. I recognize it. However, especially the way the political fields draw blood these days, there was no rule broken at this point. It meets an objective to inflict pain sufficiently guaranteed to be as much or more than what I suffered. In addition, wouldn't pederasty be a line, finally, that J would not cross as far as welcoming the police, neighbors, lawyers, therapists to know about it? Would this stop everything, finally, in its tracks? Could I walk away as a winner even without feeling like one, or would I wake up the next day already grinding on a new slight or worry that just couldn't go without addressing? Would the anxiety on edge for Officer Caviar's knock on my door in the night be unbearable?

Dawn Warning

Only an alarming bright moon in the winter trees can
Wake me from the sense of no one near this dead end

Wide moon in evenings, sailors feel their feelings
Wide moon at midday, sailors eat their hearts away

We shun the dawn because it will not bring good news
We pace the cage of night only wanting freedom to run


by Reptily

I Am Movement Part 11111

I'm toying with them, like a savvy naughty kitty many times their size that likes the sound of its own little bell. This is the position advancing age puts you into. Exaggerated sense of omnipotence. Yet my suffering is so great that it seems to envelope all of us in the Fellowship Hall of the Lutheran church as a drizzle freezes the parking lot. I walk up to the coffee pot.

How could I not cause a stir. A great big faggot simply cannot just blend in anyway, so you may as well try and manage the reaction rather than freak out about it. What if I just let loose with an unending gay hilarity of shade and cheer. Would this not attract even more suspicion and dread? It's really more me to take on a sort of biker Susan Sontag look and feel.

Are you the coffee person? No, he is. You're the coffee person? You have a commitment? How did you get that? From the secretary? There's a business meeting. You have to go there and talk to the Key Committee. And then what. I want a coffee commitment, so I have to go and appear before a  committee. What happens after that? Do I have to fill out a form? Do I need ID...?

This is when the coffee person, a cute olive blob in the middle of the swarm of straight white maleness beneath the primitive rendition of the Last Supper but many times bigger on the apse-like wall that stretched around us all, broke down and smiled a little giving me the benefit of the doubt that my affect was dry humor rather than killer-y. Every one of the enrobed and slightly crazed looking gentlemen sitting half-circle at the Last table were lightly-tanned Scandinavians and none of them was an easily identifiable Judas.

I'm thinking about the great power/ great responsibility ratio and how yes, I will probably start pissing these guys off more and more the more they get to know me, and that will provide them an opportunity to work their programs, after going off on me in one way or another, coming back to apologize/ 5th-step me, and the process would begin again, but that would be how I-- a way into having a relationship with these men, like the lovable punching bag maybe it could be.

Or I feel like I could drive these men insane if I wanted to. Really push them to their limits at least as much as I have a whole string of men, many of which I was able to work on most deeply in the confines of our own homes. In. Sane. I shared in keeping with the Persistence theme that sure, I think I've been persistent and steadfast, I haven't picked up a drink in 7 years in spite of X, Y and Z happening, making it as exotic and dramatic as I can so they all are secretly wanting my transgressive but glamorous experience strength and hope. How I'd accidentally almost married some autistic guy and he called the police on me when I slammed the door too hard. How he kicked me out suddenly but only after he already had somebody else lined up and in operation. How he had his neighbors call the cops on me when I called him on the phone too many times. How he'd kicked me out and ended up under the power of drunken landlords who proceeded to also kick me out. How I'd ended up in Chukka Chank wanting to just find a safe place to burrow in and be safe after all that had happened. How I wanted to buy a gun today because if the cops were going to come and try to drag me off to jail from my home in the middle of the night, I will have a way to prevent that from happening.

I Am Movement, Part 111

That was J. I was right! That X of his is up to no good, and I think it's time to call the police! Do you remember when we were walking the Circle yesterday and we saw him pull up with his driver-side mirror all taped on and slide a suspicious package into J's mailbox!?

Darling you look a little funny when you're angry in your pussy hat. Were you at another march?

[FEELING HEAD, REMOVES PUSSY HAT] Don't try and distract me. J is just so special and so nice-- like a crazy-smart savant child!

He's in his late 50's.

Listen to this. That asshole X of his called J. 100 times.

Whut? My God. Are we... are we in danger?

[PHONE RINGS, COUPLE STARTLE-REFLEX IN UNISON]

Oh. Maybe it's Officer Caviar.

So you already called the police.

Just with an initial report.

Of what?

Probably just criminal stalking, but possibly a bomb or bomb threat.

Whuh-whut?

Hello?

This is Officer Scrum Caviar from the Rolling Riches PD. Yeah that suspicious package you had the bomb squad come over there for turned out to be a letter from the boyfriend or whatever.

You mean the X. He is not welcome in this neighborhood.

Well Ma'am...

Someone who calls someone 100 times? His voicemail was completely full.

Do you know why your neighbor didn't answer the phone, or why he did not contact us himself?

Oh he's too distraught. And out of town. He's put me personally in charge of keeping an eye on the property while he's gone. There are definitely some criminal damages going on here.

Well from the letter it appears that the X is trying to revisit the history of his relationship with J, which appears to have only recently ended. We see this kind of quarreling a lot, oh who are you going out with now, must be a whore, all that kind of thing. The seniors these days are really worse even than the young ones on that score. But of course it can always lead to murder, torture, or mass violence with bystanders being injured as well so better safe than sorry.

Officer Caviar, I have here in front of me an instrument, a precisely worded legal instrument in which a trigger has been installed, and the trigger is set to start off a chain of actions that cannot be stopped once set in place. It is a set of instructions from J., a successfully retired Silicon Valley scientist, who only wants to see justice done and peace restored to our neighborhood.

Actually, he's been living on disability for decades.

How would you know that?

Another neighbor mentioned it to us. He inherited money from his parents to buy that house. Though he does seem very smart.

The instrument states that the X must be warned immediately to cease and desist.

Well what I can do is just give him a very stern talking to, and I think he'll...

I hope so, officer. We are in possession of a written legal instrument devised by J's lawyer at great haste just this evening that includes a trigger clause. If there is one more call made to J's number by the ex, this must trigger the official request for a restraining order is to take effect at that point. I can fax that over to you right now using this... contraption on my phone, I... haha! I'm getting so old, I...

Haha.

Well, I'll bring it by tomorrow and pick up that letter to pass along to J. 

I understand, Mrs. Pu...Hat... Citizen.

[ALL LOOK DOWN AT THE PINK PUSSY HAT IN HER HAND WITH THE WORDS "PUSSY HAT" SEWN IN]

My husband Lucas would like to have a moment.

Officer Caviar, thank you for your service. I am just wondering if there are any precautions we should be taking. And to think we spoke directly to that "X" guy during our holiday luminaria participation drive!

Well sir, I can assure you that there are no further precautions that you will need to take in that I will-- I didn't want to put it to your wife that way of course, but I will call this asshole at night, in his own home, and scare the living shit out of 'im. That usually helps them see a better way.