sprinkler on a wicca twilight

it's cold and wet, yet welcome
to some life forms, even in January.
Even in the Northern Hemisphere.

some idiot paid to have fairy sprinkles
punched into the lawn, but it's
green now. He's got leprechauns on the inside.

dapsone was good enough for a while
then they started getting pissed off and organizing
marchers of the truth brigade were brought by magic.

they had to start putting cameras on their body parts
to follow their trajectories. They called this
time. Heads on shelves tell the story.

13. Time is a Liar

"...and even pain was just a confirmation of my selfish assumptions. Vol. Rabbits. I took the palace mascots' unconditional love and seeming empathy as some kind of validation even when no human would cosign my bullshit. vol-vol. Take me now vol."

Reptily was in her second day of Volca. Volca starts when you put the burl in the fire. The days cannot start until you have seen the sign in the burl. Volca has three days, unless you do not come to the end.

"I allowed my mistresses to become familiar and then chided them for trying on my ribbons vol. Vol. I wore the ceremonial slippers which hurt my feet because they showed more heel vol. Then I used your name in vain I said 'Ay, Mhthyuh my feet.' vol. vol. Eat my bones first vol beg vol."

Reptily shifted on her shoes. She was in a wedding gown and heels as a symbol of her marriage to Mthyuh, the geo-god. She was expected to perform these ceremonies, and everything she said was recorded meticulously by seven nude albino scribes. One of these had a red afro.

"Ilyn, what day is it. Illyn. I didn't say 'vol' chyle tell me the day."

Ilyn responded, "Your Volca has begun, Chamatily. You know the answer."

"Ilyn you gotta help me. Call me Rep. I'm sweat'n. I can't take this. Throw me a clue. Vol Ilyn."

Reptily was panting and her forearms were starting to slip down toward the spikes. She twisted her wrists around so that the binding would hold her up.

"Chamatily we bathed and robbed noblors together but I always respected you. Now we have a job to do. I'm not corrupt."

"Vol. Take Ilyn last O Mthyuh. Take him last vol. How I will prep his shivgrub without shivwash so to send him to you sooner vol I'm the one. Take me unwashed vol nothing harms you. Vol. Take Ilyn last vol."

12. Time is a Liar

The phone rang. Reptily, a comely and immaculate topless black woman of 35, let the unsheathed metal-tone red satin comfortor from Montgomery Ward fall below her shoulder blades to answer.

"Mom. I have a big shiv tonight. What do I always say. You come and fall down. Please. Oh and you like your 6 mats behind the rope net. Far above drainage. Yes and I love you." Reptily's view gave her mountains and pink clouds that morning. She knew she would be able to get her mother to come to the Shiv and pretend to faint.

She was eating Blood Hope wafers right out of her communion kit. In bed.

"Mama this is the only way. You, free. We in two tall house. I help so many people and little children. And I got my papers. Everyone respect us. You repeat now few times, go to bed. Little children yes. Papers. Respect us."

Things had not yet begun to go wrong.

11. Time is a Liar

Still, the flame could not break through.

"Hooo. Cooo. Hooo. Pit spot. Pit spot. Cheese or Hawaiian. Cyclamen."

The flame sank down, peeked back, and disappeared into its lair between the branding-hot grate and the underside of the burning logs.

"I choose my gift to be..."

Reptily gasped.

The burl was spewing a rapid fire of sparks against several points on the rock, above and below the pot line. The burl's face popped and fell away hideously. The symbol was clear burning red and gave no sign of waning for lack of fuel. It was the 6 ridges and prostrate child. Prolabique Pharm-Supply.

"If it burns till sunrise, we are in shit."

Reptily slumped, rested her chin in her hand, and spat at the hairless dog curled by her feet.

10. Time is a Liar

Reptily sat on a footstool before a fire she'd made. Her specialty was burls, but she could also read the heat spots and Burnt Issue of cones, ashes and legumes. This oak burl had burned through the eve of and into the first morning of the new W.D. It was disturbingly reminiscent of a six-hour vision of hell she had experienced using wood from the same river bed the winter before. It's sandy, but it's cured. Miss Sprint just must not have been hosing them down. But fire's eye knows all. It can still carve its message.

She poked at the chunk of glowing wood and lifted it trepidatiously, as if she expected ugliness. "Yes, it's all written there." Reptily let the sandy, helmet-like shell of bark fall back on its tortoise legs of cinder. "Now it must burn up from the bottom. There will be a mark in the sand."

"All year, I do nothing good. I am a samurai against all best choices. I want this WD to break, and in her last flame, for the Mhuthya to roil up and bring home her bad daughter. Bad hunger to good. Vol-vol. God is pleased."

"All year in my pain I treat others bad. The world is my suffer. I am your food Mhthyuh, is me to take to your bowel. Vol-vol.

"All the days I eat I say I have something bad. Vol-vol. Vol-vol.

"I am only so sweet to get birds in the trap, and they rot. Because I have too am too much Mhuthya. Vol-vol.

"My children are lost. I have no children. Take my children. You are their path. But eat them last. Vol. Vol.

"Even temple mascots chew their own bones for me to complain vol. Even my babies have crawled away.

"I put my hair in fire to feed you, vol, I am gorged with lush diseases of lust and mimesis, horror and disgust, fear, misrepresentation, betray, go over, don't listen, TV all time, wastebag, simpleton, hypocrit, make death.

"I am fresh and livid and salt regret, vol. This day. Last day. You ate them all. Vol. Vol."

Reptily's spiny forehead rested on her knees now. There were more items, but why.

"The sloth, the fool, the reaper. I can only see myself, but I cannot see..."

It would be soon now. If she got the 2-spear sign, she could fight and run ahead. Trapped at home was a murder to her.

Mr. Pig

Mr. Pig

"The most delightful two minutes or so in the history of time...unreal!"
J. M. E. McTaggart

If People Don't Retrace their Movements, Paths Cannot Cross

There was a pig let me
tell ya bout the pig its
a story of a pig, an
allegory bout a pig.

Mr. pig took a swim, took a
swim, Mr. pig took a
swim and on the way home from the
gym Mr. pig I
followed him.

I aint lyin that the pig
did a jig on the street,
right there on just two
feet, jiggin in the open
street Mr. pig he
did a jig.

I turned into a club
and lit up a cigar
sat before the far in
in an overstuff-ed char
and then to my surprise
in a mirror over thar
I saw two piggies dancing
in my eyes.

Mr. pig, Mr. pig
take yer dancin and
romancin to the sty!
Mr. pig, you gonna lose
When I kick this devil
varmint they call booze.

Mr Pig [the Mp3]

9.5 Time is a Liar

"Why deny sleep its part in existence? Haughty Consciousness needn't be given free reign. Some of our happiest moments are in our sleep. These moments are the most timeless because less movement is taking place. It's a small amount of energy, like leaving your nite light on, honey."

Peggy cradled swaddled Elizabeth in her arms and hugged spasmodically as she spoke.

"We sleep together, but we're too alike. Baby Jane Hudson and Ricky Ricardo. You're right. It's frightening. But that's the elemental battle between baby, even newborn, and mama. Some say it's a competition for life; I say it's just two hungry people. Goo. Ha!"

"You see, even though what we call 'moments' may seem to happen on a line going in a direction; they all end up right where we left them. I love this moment because it's as real as any other-- as real as the most famous or most important moment ever. You and I are here to share it. Let's limit movement as much as possible right now."

Elizabeth was squirming. She was already eight.

9. Time is a Liar

"AAA had to come and get you where? Was it...? Well then why were you bleeding?" Sylvia was standing in a robe in her kitchen. A stunted grapefruit dropped from the dying tree behind her on the other side of a sliding glass door. "If you'd like, I could... I just have to get dressed and I'll... OK. I'm glad you're fine then. Call when you get in."

She stared back into the kitchen from the living room couch then for a while. Her day had been intended to begin on that cool linoleum floor. With coffee. Maybe sliding open that door to let the cat out. The bright overhead light was still on in there. But she wasn't there. She'd picked up the telephone and listened into it and now she was out of commission. Her day had changed. Or, she guessed, it was never her day to begin with. The day itself seemed to be oblivious, the same slow spin of the planet. The same constant tumult forward or backward, depending on which way you faced. She could almost see herself gliding between the stove and the fridge. Probably what she'd be doing right then. Yawning into the back of her hand. Stooping with a tiny dish of egg yolk for Kitty. Then letting him out the back.

The living room was dark and intended for guests. It really didn't care how or how often it was used. It was set for a strobe of activity, and the blank spots didn't count. This felt like an unexpected layover in a haunted ballroom. The two hours you spend in a matinee, getting surprised every time you walk out and have to squint and figure out who you were again. Tom was the unexpected one. He could be counted on that way. He was a professional variable. In fact, he'd been next to her right there, a few times, on that couch. Realistically, the only reason he still wasn't there is that he got up and walked away. Maybe he was just going to the bathroom or out for a smoke. But he just never happened to ever think to sit down just there ever again. Or at least for a long time now. But let's not blame time, thought Sylvia, after another shot of Teacher's Highland Cream. Time is oblivious. It's Tom's fault.

Kitty sat at Sylvia's feet, cleaning egg from his whiskers.

The Boys, Oliver Wendell Holmes

HAS there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?
If there has, take him out, without making a noise.
Hang the Almanac's cheat and the Catalogue's spite!
Old Time is a liar! We're twenty to-night!

We're twenty! We're twenty! Who says we are more?
He's tipsy,-- young jackanapes!-- show him the door!
"Gray temples at twenty?"-- Yes ! white if we please;
Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze!

Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!
Look close,-- you will see not a sign of a flake!
We want some new garlands for those we have shed,--
And these are white roses in place of the red.

We've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told,
Of talking (in public) as if we were old:--
That boy we call "Doctor," and this we call "Judge;"
It's a neat little fiction,-- of course it's all fudge.

That fellow's the "Speaker,"-- the one on the right;
"Mr. Mayor," my young one, how are you to-night?
That's our "Member of Congress," we say when we chaff;
There's the "Reverend" What's his name?-- don't make me laugh.

That boy with the grave mathematical look
Made believe he had written a wonderful book,
And the ROYAL SOCIETY thought it was true!
So they chose him right in; a good joke it was, too!

There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain,
That could harness a team with a logical chain;
When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire,
We called him "The Justice," but now he's "The Squire."

And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith,--
Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith;
But he shouted a song for the brave and the free,
Just read on his medal, "My country," "of thee!"

You hear that boy laughing?-- You think he's all fun;
But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done;
The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,
And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!

Yes, we're boys, --always playing with tongue or with pen,--
And I sometimes have asked,-- Shall we ever be men?
Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, and gay,
Till the last dear companion drops smiling away?

Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!
The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!
And when we have done with our life-lasting toys,
Dear Father, take care of thy children, THE BOYS!

Herring Break Wind to Communicate, Study Suggests

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2003/11/1110_031110_herringfarts.html

2008 "Hot Pucker" Lip Line: Trademark of ProLabique Medical and Cosmetics

Blood Hope
Coral Morningshadow
October Foliage
Pearl Membrane
Sutured Poison
Bang C'Mon
Dew on Ice
Sandstone Pimpernel
Marbled Rent
Offer of Tobacco
Plinth of Juno
Me Tomorrow
My Yesterday
Sweet Pie Raisin
Hummingbird Catcher
Sterling Sour
Getting Late
Patina Teacup
Pig on a Lipstick (premium dispenser)
Ruff N' Buttry
Lust Gorged
Peek, a Blue Pink
Sage Rub
Wicca Twilight
Feed On
Rainbow Scale
Sopped in Bailey's
Wrenchbreaker
Cohosh Spice
Hush for Cover
Pas du Cake
Secrets Kept
Minor Discretion
Wet Nip
Spraybourne
Clove Aureola
Paella
Shirt Caller
Filter Stain
Crystal Rimprint
Straw Dipper
Holiday Mincemeat
Chancre' Adieu
Beau Talks
Nico-Rush
Tan Taint
K-Dava Diva
Crammed with Grace
Berry Plop
Crematoma
By L'Wisp
Burnt Issue
Raspberry Gale

dapsone

Peggy brushed the lint off her face into the ladies' room sink. It melted into the color of the stone and the water. Then she rinsed off her face because it still looked a little dusty. It made her look like an old woman for a moment. She still played a childhood game with herself where she would imagine that she was much younger and then wake up in the future and this would be it and she would look around her, truly marveling. It had become a scary game. She walked out of the ladies' room slightly disoriented and tried to unlock the door to the attendance office even though it had already been unlocked for seven hours. She sat down at her desk, picked up a pink pen and wrote on a day-glo green sticky pad.

i see that my only salvation will be living life in the present moment!

She stuck the note to the mirror on the inside of her lipstick case, put on a little lipstick, crookedly, and shut the lid. She straightened her lower back, swiveled on her chair, and opened Excel for Mac.

"It'll all be better when you getchur kids back."

Peggy screamed before he could finish his sentence. It was spooky Jim Sousa. He had been standing there the whole time in his red tie, his obscenely sensual mouth and glasses. She screamed a second time when it had registered in her mind what the second half of his sentence was. Jim was scared of Peggy too when he saw the look on her face. Everyone went home early that night.

The FedEx'd carton from Langley, VA went unopened in the Attendance In bin till late Monday morning.

my branks

www.tinypic.com

Cucking Stool

www.dartmouth.edu

Coatimundi

www.civilwar.com

Coatimundi

http://www.desertmuseum.org/ YOINK!

Coatimundi

Connie

Now I see how I held you
in a smoke-filled room
and you really didn't have a choice
because I made you want me.

I sat you under my arm
and watched amazed while you breathed
and remembered many of the times
we went out together, your vitality.

I gave up on chasing you away
because it was bad for your condition
of loving me baby. I coulda
stole you in the face, or jacked

all the money I made you make.

Gibberish

Ah nee Ah nee Ay om ah naw Oh nee Oh nee ah naw rale. Too nee too nee ah naw ah naw rale. Yoo got cher brekast in a bag. Brekast. Bring it in a bag. Kicky. Kicky dog.

Reptily, Present Day

8. Time is a Liar

Zug came home after dark all covered in white dust from the mine. Standing under the yellow bug light on the porch, he looked like a primitive man at a ceremony. He was also naked.

"Honey, I'm home."

Connie was in the bedroom face down on the bed. She had been crying into her hands on the pillow. She wore fitted cigarette-length jeans, dirty white anklets, and a short-sleeve pink cashmere v-neck.

"What is it honey. I'm gonna shower off."

Zug stood under the warm water thinking about how they'd met. "I liked how you said that Shivas society denies women their dark power in class today," she'd stayed behind to comment. It was a wine-colored v-neck. Three years of nights since then they'd never been apart.

Cement Basics was considered by most academics to be more than just a required transfer-level course for geocareers. It laid the foundation for social mores in industry, and intertwined, for natives, their very bloodline with a set of values that could be reliably shared with others in a reasonably wide geocultural area. For migrants, Cement could be an a) eye-opener, b) a confirmation of expected prejudices, or c) something presented in a language not understood.

For Connie, it was all about Zug. Even before the semester had ended, they were going down to Damp Ditch most every Sunday to shoot heroin and toss shards of glass into the rainbow-like reflections in the slurry. Like the Bible-in-Life comic books she had read as a child, the two of them seemed to be applying principals and making use of cultural artifacts that others could only wonder about hypothetically or physically engage with every day without any conscious consideration.

He felt guilty now, as at the end of every shower. It meant turning off the water, stepping off the stone, and walking back in to her, and to that which he had created. Or wandered into. Or not resisted. Or it was accidental-on purpose. Whatever. He emerged in a cloud of steamy talc now and sat on the bed in his towel.

"Honey, we have to talk."

Her silence was encouraging. Maybe tonight she was ready to listen and to get real.

"Look. Even though it was just that one time with Zick. And I never dreamed I would be sharing my testimony at a Shivans with Herpes group. You know how bad I feel about it. Even so, was it ever a good idea. I mean... if you want to leave... I think you should."

Connie might have responded something like, "Thanks for your honesty, Z. " And, "No, I don't think it wasn't a good idea at first, but I kinda have to agree with you it's over now." More likely, she would have come up with something like, "You asshole! I gave you the best... I gave you my forties!" No. She probably would have just sat up, wiped off her face, and gone to pee.

But Connie did not happen to be living just then.