the hole i have to eat through

ya they say never hand over a knife to the patient

do they say that and no i don't believe that happened

it happened and it's my fault because i thought we were both lucid

it's a personal place a central place

i know this there is symbolic content i feel all that i knew as soon as

as soon as

as soon as i saw you slash so deeply and so far i realized

you realized i slashed

i realized that it would be a symbolic moment and an existential question

not whether or not i'd survive but

right not that but whether or not you could deal with having destroyed

that specialized area

that no one would ever again see the tissue that had connected you to your mother

but now you act like

i'm not acting i'm telling you if i did it you did it it doesn't matter it's still there inside

because it turned out ok right how you mean because it looks like a real navel

no because you are no longer exposed to that reminder of dependency

you could do the same to my mouth so no one could see the hole i have to eat through

Dr. Donna Thong

Mike

Post-op interview [frag.]

losers

i knew The Crack was opening and i was selfish i wanted to reach out and grip your faces

already too many of you were caught in an updraft spiraling toward the stadium lights

i'd try and grab your sideburns and let go of her pigtails by doing so

they shouldn't allow friends and family over by the air-conditioning unit for the temporary buildings

not when lightning bolts can crease a sky and stars with no clouds

when the filter is down but not the beacon and the flekes at their hill fires start drumming

a thrill, fear, ice rises from the heart area and perhaps it's a meteor but also a gesture

then it seemed as though we were lost but it was only from each other

we looked at the faces around us and there was newness on both sides as well as being losers

 

by Jan

First transmission [frag.]

they use my funk for their discotecas

i think it's a moment for philosophizing for example, 

"why?" or "the hell?"

but feel i need a gentler tool, so not 

which bad choice, which horrific and all-powerful system

for example, must one coax oneself.

or should personal hygiene just occur naturally.

these are questions i can touch with my beak right now.

like an anteater i can 

daintily taste test a single wriggling assertion

or fully tongue the entire org tree including

subterranean levels

those are the ones that house the rankest

tank thinkers mercenary blowhards social

wrecking balls inciters of chaos paralegal

vengeance servers of cause and means

sinister laundries of earnest curiosity

but just one taste is all i ask and i'm tasting

real. sky bitch. musk.

they want to come up here and take that

and not because i'm dirty baby

they use my funk for their discotecas.

think i'm dying for cucumber essence.

claim their fashions suit me best.

the answer and the proof are in my nest.

Ks fly spread eagle!

"Ks Fly Spread Eagle"

by Peg

Rally opener

Daughters of Mthyuh March of Destruction

Highchank 

Good luck with that

Peg and Jan are hunched over the remains of a fascio-religious scout troop their leaders their dogs and their shiny suede saddles. The thirty-odd children and adults had been on a pilgrimage to Ilyn's diving stone at the mouth of Mthyuh. Jan and Peg carefully pick out the bits of non-edible clothing and equipment and toss or spit them off the cliff. Same with the larger bones after sucking on them for several moments, even as they chat. They are able to form, understand, and communicate language with their minds only.

Jan: Watching you and the other full-bloods i can't help but notice moments when you emerge from your face. Normally your countenance to my nose is mask-like. But maybe i'll mention my husband or the restaurants on the other side of The Crack or ask a stupid question about the Greater Chanks Phenomena, and the mask becomes animated. I respond especially to the muscles around your eyes, which normally don't move at all unless theyr being prodded unexpectedly by a tree in a cloud or an airliner. 

Both: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Jan: Yes, i see you now!

Peg: Oh honey.

Jan: But i mean i say that because this observation also reminds me of how different i am despite my putative species how my face compared to yours is overly expressive clown-like hypo-manic. 

Peg: ...

Jan: I mean how does that affect the outcomes of everyday encounters how does it

Peg: Yr trying not to do it now aren't you. So i'm not sure i can provide any feedback yet. I'll have to catch you at a less self-conscious moment. 

Jan: Oh good luck with that. 

Both: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

 

Trans. Phyliss

My trajectory was corrupted

My trajectory was corrupted

the fabric collapsed 

over the top half 

of my basket.

No I won't rhyme 

basket with casket. 

I'm tryna git 

the common mirror to write this shit

so i can retire.

by Donna

All we have is now

Jan and Peg are rolling back and forth in twin mountains of waste adjacent a sugar refinery in the low chanks. Wedding tent-size flakes and scales slough debride from their backs and tails and into the spent beet fibers.

Was it societal rape being done to him all those years?

How so. 

How society basically forced him to engage in sexual intercourse that he did not want. Is that worse than having to be celibate or choosing like Ilyn for spiritual purposes. 

Or prostitution. It wasn't against his will. 

No, more like with a gun to his head. You choose the lesser evil. 

The gun of a specter of persecution poverty shame ostracization. 

Yep. No one in recorded history has survived a shunning except a few that became their own scarlet letter. 

What? 

They survived but they were marked and stunted by their resulting public identity. He'd be at shiv and a Jan would say ya I'm a servant to Mthyuh or another Jan would say ya I'm a zoological hygienist. 

Then it would get to his turn and they'd interrupt with ya we know who you are. 

Right. He embraced being that guy. 

Can you please shove that backhoe out about 20 yards? I need to stretch. Just with your foot there. Thanks.

Flekes Jans priests nobody can get their Braino on it. We have the evidence all around us of this practice belief prejudice crime having been going on for like forever now. 

All we have is now Jan. 

So right you are darling.

Trans. by Phyliss Ng-Tiu (embedded)

This is not my belly button

This is not my belly button

Donna effed up and slashed it open

then closed with fancy stitching

to fashion me a new one 

If you're going to have a surgery

on your patio or balcony

you'd better have in mind the men

who like aesthetics now and then

men who keep an inventory

of body parts and piercings for the

off chance of another emergency

or when she's doing residency

 

by Mike

"I forgive you, Dr. Thong."

Ayurvedic to my nose

Jan and Peg are stretched out on their bellies in the sand. Waves splash up against their bodies. Their elbows and wrists fit on the strand of beach between the water and a desolate highway. Their tails bob and flick at seagulls far out into the bay. 

PEG: Next we turn to the stars for answers. 

JAN: What do you see there? 

PEG: What i see is filtered through the seers accounting of what supposedly they see. 

JAN: You've looked at the oracle dispenser. It disappoints you. 

PEG: It certainly tries to do the opposite, which makes me all the more concerned. So, so encouraging uplifting today that i was sure she knew something and wasn't saying. 

JAN: Oh like ya buy that new pair of shoes treat yourself watch that movie eat a bonbon and what am i going to do with a shoe? 

PEG: Mmhmm. 

JAN: I am starting to believe that because we are closer to the heavens we are affected more profoundly by other large bodies moving in space. 

PEG: So buy two pairs of shoes? 

JAN: No. Just don't depend on the oracle dispenser for guidance that should be ours directly from the stars themselves. 

PEG: Do you mean

JAN: Ya we should have and make our own charts and by doing so reclaim our ancient agency to roam in self-governed patterns. 

PEG: Dictated by our biology not theirs. Lucky way more often. 

JAN: I think i can feel a planet gently tugging on my gizzard now in the magnetic resonance of the stones. 

PEG: Jan i told you purge and start over. Gargle with

JAN: Sea water ya. I use this instead. 

Jan reaches out and snags a passing milk tanker from the desolate highway and bites off the end of it before passing it to Peg.

PEG: Oh. Ayurvedic to my nose. 

BOTH: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Trans. by Phyllis (embedded)

external agency

These were live and written statements that, had it been in charge, Braino would never have allowed. 

You attribute these statements at least in part to external agency. 

Well you know as well as I do that's complicated. Some segments of society would suggest that unwelcome statements, other vocal utterances, and any bodily movement can be achieved through Remote Tissue Decisioning. Because they burned the libraries, there's no proof such a program ever existed or whether it's still part of the MPS mission statement. 

What would you call it then, leaving aside oral tradition. It, these utterances?

Scientifically I'd guess a scientist would go with echolalia in some cases and coprolalia in others: both are semi-involuntary, vocalized auto-sympathetic bursts of the amygdalae.

Scientifically. They never reach the line of what a reasonable person might call menacing or harassing. 

You're HR now as well? We're talking about medical symptoms here. 

Not political, theatrical...

Certainly you can say provocative if it's on the side of the fence you want. 

Caustic?

Oh, I certainly hope so. Else the only positive trait of my neurological condition would be lost. 

You're a hard case. 

At last, a flash of random honesty at the Institute for the Journal of Meta-Cognitive Talk Therapy Apologists. 

We just call it the Institute now. 

Patient exit interview (frag.)

Dr. Donna Thong

Miss pissy mood boy

she waiting in line, can't remember

all over there are micro shivers hate

no juice that size they not moving

eating is now decontextualized from

intrinsic motivation or that the ceiling

has dropped out of all the drives 

leaves the naked redundancy of being 

alive if there's no one not one bag

boy or checker or or shopper that's

off enough to poke through the torpor

to a tenderer encounter but they all

pissy folding through the clock our

clucking metronome the wide-stanced

demon's tympani crying writhe!

writhe! beem-bum and all writhe

riding in their swinging hammers

hermits and the depressed shadowing

do-selves doing in the do milieu

horrified or dozing in a sugar box

to forget they are being used for

cookies or spatchcocked on a wire

fence as if they're sweet for a charnel 

house as if they sweet as if 

they no time not now at least

like each step has a meaning tho

the earth's turning, not the feet

 

 

 

 

 

Lillian Modat

tonight's dog walk

 

Denier of All Realities

Denier of All Realities denies all reality irreality all alternate all make-believe and fantasy realities simulated phenomenological surreality quantum anti-reality modal emergent de res de dicto obliteration of all karmic matter diminished quasi meta and transcendental realities, and realty. 

B. Moksha

 

 

 

Mike's Swimming Blog #1401

from you i'm not taking this

i had your back and advanced

your line and on that my ass

but you give no sign don't speak

up for or to me where's that

sass that/ as a matter of fact

you egged me on even swooped

alongside on a night mish

poolside for the whole dish

i granted your almost every wish

maybe holding back that dymin

put me in the sitch they found me in

by Mike

For Donna

"I forgive you, Donna"

claw

 

Brenda Friend event

There was a very old queen name Brenda Friend an she would be out there asking pedestrians for a dollar. 

I gave Miss Brenda a dollar an she toll me no, don't go that way. They's K's up in them trees I seenem. 

I had been dancing my way home in the streets all the way up from a shivden in Dubbaberra. This was all mine and I could run even MPS know better than to check me. 

I am slowing down in my stride and the sidewalk smelt sweet, a breeze, then some hooks are in my coat shoulders lifting me up. For a moment I could see from a level that I should not. Then he let me drop and swooped off like a clown with his crop all swole and bobbing the beak like a dolphin. The cismales think yor a plaything. 

That's why I only walk or dance under low-hanging FOL wires when in the street. I should have listened to Brenda, but we can all learn. 

 

 

 

 

 

Open mike participant

Brenda Friend Memorial Event 

Spinal Injury Institute, Sponsor

 

Welcome day frag.

I myself remember plopping down this end of The Crack. 

I was a kitten in a birth sac. 

What poked a hole was the beauty here. 

I found a functioning society

paradise and horror side by side

infinite replenishment

We learned in order to survive

to keep our privileges close by

or risk adventure in the boundarylands

Jan Jansdaad

Welcome Day counselor

Poetry Fair, Table 6

n.d.

"Why can they fly arounan lidderly shit on the community?"

Not only do they shit on the community, and not only is it deliberate, but it is also clearly amusing to them personally because you can hear their cackle echoing in the clouds or bouncing off chanks. Why don't they go out to sea. 

They do. We have to take the same precautions there. You're right. They crap wherever they want, and wherever they want is often a populated area, and yes, they think it's hilarious. 

Our ancestors were wrong to put up with it for all those years. 

You forget it was the other way around. K's were queen. We were their transition from hunting and gathering to farming and ranching, and they are the only reason we still even exist because some among them wanted to just keep eating unsustainably.

But now that they're in preserves, they've agreed to stop killing. 

True, but we know that many flekes die each year working serving worshiping vacationing in close proximity to K's, and we do not have jurisdiction in those lands. The high chanks, although modern and popular with pilgrims and tourists, are governed entirely by the Mthyuh Preservation Society, a group that also holds an iron grip throughout the Greater Chanks Phenomena on all cultural missions and communications. 

You refer to the Filter of Loathing. 

I am afraid so. They could decide to simply switch it off. 

Their religion, well, our religion would not exist without K's. They are living relics and so holy to the MPS and to the flekes as well. 

Are you willing to challenge all of that to avoid a few hours of shoveling each year? 

 

Welcome Day n. d.

"K's Fly Spread Eagle" Bring-a-Lunch breakout group 

Chang K. Chang Ballroom

[frag.]

Trans. by Phyllis

last night's crash

 

scan