Thursday, January 25, 2018
End of brain-factory paradigm
my sociopathic stepfather explains,
by reference to his new genomic fun
kit, how mother and I, from less-hu-
man neanderthal stock, were built to
spot movements and patterns, but
not survive; that our brows are too
thick to reason normally, so he
by Jan
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
I'm not coming in from the rain
Husband? You ask
What's that? We've
always said, no
such thing for us
We've done our
thing our way and
developed a civil
protocol or two
But now, with a
swell of generosity,
after we've made
a camp outside the
wall, invited in,
reluctantly but not
without acclaim,
we say hell no, no
We haven't spent
our lives pining for
a straight paradigm;
at least I haven't.
So it's cold and wet
out here when a
whole new system
has to express, gag
and choke on life
but it's green of
growth, so we won't
come in from the rain.
by Missy (Mkidza Mlaf)
What's that? We've
always said, no
such thing for us
We've done our
thing our way and
developed a civil
protocol or two
But now, with a
swell of generosity,
after we've made
a camp outside the
wall, invited in,
reluctantly but not
without acclaim,
we say hell no, no
We haven't spent
our lives pining for
a straight paradigm;
at least I haven't.
So it's cold and wet
out here when a
whole new system
has to express, gag
and choke on life
but it's green of
growth, so we won't
come in from the rain.
by Missy (Mkidza Mlaf)
Labels:
missy,
Mkidza Mlaf,
nirvanic system
Thursday, January 18, 2018
GHOST WIFE
It was clear until my third or fourth call for repairs that the landlord and his girlfriend who wants to be a wife had agreed to always come over here together, never alone. But then they started getting a little cute and then a little tiffy about how he'd replaced the radiant heat for ducts which he'd slammed in himself during his twenties, mostly anxious to get the bar done with the smoke-a-lizer and the deck right there on the creek in time for the wedding, and then a prompt and open-ended fractalization of subsequent drinking + nature-related gatherings.
In contrast to this new landlord, say Mike, my ex-fiance was fastidious about dampers and grumouts measuring tightly up to their doo-hickies and corresponding flush surfaces. He didn’t mind poisoning house mice, for example, because he’d already done his part to responsibly and reasonably keep them out of our sphere; if they persisted, they had to be overly-aggressive anomolies of their species and therefore ok for destruction.
I think the landlord’s companion wants to be his wife because she was so thorough about checking me out, did it all herself, is very efficient, you know, though it is his place. The first time he finally showed up alone, he squatted and duck-walked an entire stainless-face dishwasher, still part way in the strapping and box, mudroom to kitchen, after having worked a 16-hour day or so he said. Then he muttered something about before his wife passed away, and I figured that had to have been here, maybe upstairs. He couldn't seem to get the math right, even to the decade, about when and who and what. I sat quietly with the cable remote between my knees, just a dog and a green leather hassock between us as Mike wiped his brow with one of my dish towels.
That same shade of bologna pink except for around the eyes, they seem like they've both been liking their wine hours or countryside tavern rounds in their present neighborhood, near my last address, over by Tom's, maybe since she died, maybe "Tessa," of cancer, and he'd been living on his own; but no, the hardworking girlfriend referenced having lived here by the creek as well... or was it just her air of anticipatory ownership through management, man management, and the exhilarating world of background checking other people's risks, the way she found out about me, hungrily engaging my references.
I think they must have agreed to always come here together, and never alone, because it's too comically common of a scenario for the landlord hubby to go and fix a pipe for Mrs. So-and-so, the divorcee or young childless widow, or widow/ divorcee with a sympathetic child, and what ensues. Maybe a shadow birth or a life insurance scheme. They must surely at least have passed some kind of bottle with their pants rolled up sitting by the water soon after Janine Wannabe came into his life and endeavored to replace his inferred melancholy with her palpable carnal and appetitive bounties, and to address her fiduciary insecurities with his plumbing and electrical business.
The thing is that this guy I dated, Zhann, is so swish on the phone, and he prolly still resents me for moving in with I guess I'm calling him "Tom" out in Brickhouse-Horseley's Craigs. Zhann apparently told my landlord's girlfriend/ fact checker/ whatever the protracted story of our meeting on an app and maybe prematurely asked to be designated driver to his niece's Magnificent Mile dance-floor wedding and reception in the city. The anticipatory and self-envisioned wife prolly put two and two together and said get smart, bitch. I don't care how butch he is; I'm not leaving my Mike alone with that fag. If anyone's getting to know the new tenant, it's going to be me because it could be fun. Or maybe a three-way. Drinks. Anyway not until after the spring? wedding unless there are already little rugrats bouncing around.
But then as the toilet/ furnace/ disposal-broken weeks clunked along (me a wreck fallen fresh from a dream life in a fairy-tale property) footstep-like creaks would follow my own going up and down the slick and narrow, high-gloss painted hard pine stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor, really not much more than a hot, musty attic, and cold spots and fragrant and rank spots would appear and dissolve unexpectedly in random angles and passages. One night I thought the washer-dryer closet doors would explode open when the European water heater turned itself on, blasting gas far more powerfully than normal, and the dogs startled awake to the urgent, mad attempts of the auto-pilot at igniting. I briefly imagined myself staggering from the smoldering ruins of Thornfield Hall in a flouncy, soiled linen blouse.
Raccoons started chattering and many other noisemaking activities that were less comfortingly identifiable. These invisible yet intensely present beasts occupied an alternate universe of drama, hilarity, and domestic corporal brutality right there in the same spatial crosshairs as my aging pets, tarnished silver, punch bowl boxed in tissue paper. The dogs drew crazy designs with their noses across carpets and into walls. The more needed repairing, the more I saw Mike, and the more he seemed reluctantly obsessed with hanging out, never at ease, always active in a pretense of punishing, grunting physical labor.
The fighting grew more intense, a real bag of cats. There was plenty of room under there in that choice crawlspace next to the water where they could wash their hands before eating, presumably. Prolly after a conversation with the in-the-running-to-be wife Janine, Mike told me to go ahead and arrange the wild animal removal myself. I didn't go with the really hot social media star daddy whose wife had created a huge photo-and-video album of him bending over backwards all kinds of ways to get cute baby skunks out of chimneys. They charged $20 more per animal than another outfit called Animal Removal Service, who sent a guy clearly attempting to hide, with posture and garmentation, the textual contents of a tattoo beneath his ear. He pointed out that it's mating season, so two males in one winter hole is just asking for fireworks no matter how roomy.
I remembered entertaining the viewpoint of a determined and tiny-brained but essentially innocent animus undergoing a process of systematic extermination, even as it dutifully offers concessions and phones an army of sophomoric relationship interventionists, not at all conscious that its fate was sealed the moment it had entered the premises. I'd helped Tom pick out our sprawling, ivy-wrapped Eduardian deep in the summer while a total density of green was still sealing away the panorama of protected natural wetlands professionally curated to assure historical accuracy and provide stunning contrast to a former Tallest Building in the World which rose from the clouds, framed by goldenrod and tree-like daisy stems, more than 25 miles to the East.
Before he'd told me that she'd died, I had my back to him washing my hands in the sink and explained I was just going to have lunch but that I'd just pulled a whole human head's worth of hair out of the bathtub drain, so I didn't expect to get hungry again any time soon. He apologized, and I turned to look at his close-cropped, balding head and said I understood it wasn't his hair. We stopped talking, which allowed a menacing spirit to claim for a moment the unnaturally maroon, multi-legged glop in the bottom of the bathroom wastebasket; one might have briefly pictured a forest-green and rust pants suit over a smart argyle v-neck and many thin gold chains, a newly hennaed bushiness under a floppy wool cap, and snowflakes, bumpy lipstick and mascara, out by the mailbox, reaching in all the way to the cuff of her long beige driving gloves for some envelopes like the ones that still come for her, maybe "Ramona."
Ramona Plantagenet or Current Occupant
I knew Mike and maybe his girlfriend or whatever he calls her, maybe "Janine," had been renting my new place out for at least a decade, so the flotsam and jetsam of all those bodies would be boarding-house anonymous to any forensic detective determined enough to search the pipes and corners and attic and creek bed and crawlspaces. Neither one of us though, I fear, Mike nor me, can help but identify the creaking, the ambience of living but un-housed consciousness, the parallelism, an unfinished wish, the unsettledness, the strong odors, and whomever stands inside its walls at any given moment (Mike and me; dogs don't even seem to notice the difference) as young Tessa, the reigning past occupant in terms of prolonged crying out, of injustice (I suppose from cancer). This doesn't have to be spoken.
Even as smooth local gay boys, seasoned by their middle-class bullies, ring the bell and wait blowing vapor from their nostrils, their patient eyes bordering on expectation and then acceptance of either tenderness or relentless cruelty, talk up cable package or gym fundraiser and shiver with desire for warmth-- yet nail their scrupulous feet to the welcome mat without asking to come in even during inhumane arctic vortices-- there once again, helping himself across the threshold and stomping snow from his boots and onto the floor he'd sanded, returning, as the result of his intemperate youth and careless workmanship, is Mike: repairing, rethinking, replacing, grunting as if that nail had been re-set every day for a thousand years before, but that he must keep on pounding until the nails are everywhere, holding every fly, sound, appliance in location. Yet the holes (means of entry) multiply.
I sip coffee or jab my fingers into the kitchen window flower boxes when I find he's here thinking of her and being with me and feeling how I feel for him and want to be her not now but back then. I sip and wonder if either one of us wants to be who we are at the time, in the year we are in; the calendar seems to squeak along like a room where a nearby fire's sucked out the air and there's sirens and neighbors in blankets with their breath showing, and then pretty, sunny days, then volcanos; then it's time again to change out the furnace filter. I long for company now living alone again so soon after believing the mansion in the woods and its cruel master would be a final resting place, trying not to think about my inevitably over-confident replacement. I wake up not knowing where I am --except all throughout the day, and not from sleep. All I know is that I belong and Mike belongs together with an-others who are not physically or temporally here and therefore not available for normal carrying on. This is what we have instead.
Monday, January 8, 2018
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Spin of planet laid bare
It's 2:25.
In a few hours, it will be dark.
Then it will be time to feed dogs.
I'll get hungry and eat something too.
Fighting against sleepiness will ensue.
I'll wake up tomorrow with the promise of coffee.
Donna
"Recertification imminent."
In a few hours, it will be dark.
Then it will be time to feed dogs.
I'll get hungry and eat something too.
Fighting against sleepiness will ensue.
I'll wake up tomorrow with the promise of coffee.
Donna
"Recertification imminent."
Labels:
dr. donna thong
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Do I... II
Maintain a personal code culture by which I am self-defined as opposed to being
subject and object to the dominant and at times caustic assumptions norms mores
habits agendas vices ignorance around me?
Resist entreaties to destroy the self destroy before any rebuilding can be done and
destroy anew to refresh and revise according to the needs of the market-based e-
conomy?
Fear not to take heart and shop items from the membrane i'm inevitably forced to
squish through each time i venture out even in the car or open a window shade or
respond to an unsecured text?
Proceed mindfully even while engaging in the necessary mindlessness of self-con-
fidence, looking and seeing even when illusion is what's right and appropriate for
survival healing other miracles?
Jan Jr.
Labels:
Jan
Monday, December 25, 2017
Do I exhibit winner behaviors?
We ate the pets a long time ago.
I'm telling you the keyboard it-
self is rocking unstable; your
foot might go crashing through
the ground, a broken dishwash-
er, tripe block, traffic anarchy
by Jan
I'm telling you the keyboard it-
self is rocking unstable; your
foot might go crashing through
the ground, a broken dishwash-
er, tripe block, traffic anarchy
by Jan
Labels:
Jan
Funky gender shit
I don't know mom
maybe you think
i'm a tenor
because i speak
to you in a
high girlie voice
to connect with
you in a more
feminine place
funky gender
shit can warp how
you see the world
Love, Hoolie
"For Peg"
maybe you think
i'm a tenor
because i speak
to you in a
high girlie voice
to connect with
you in a more
feminine place
funky gender
shit can warp how
you see the world
Love, Hoolie
"For Peg"
Monday, December 18, 2017
wound farm
it's the city where i came of age
it's shitty now to turn the page
i just burned a lot of gas being
courteous to your speeding ass
stuntman, prankster, answer to
neighbor: i'm not drumming for
therapy-- it's entertainment. i've
got a wound farm in my privates.
by Hoolie
it's shitty now to turn the page
i just burned a lot of gas being
courteous to your speeding ass
stuntman, prankster, answer to
neighbor: i'm not drumming for
therapy-- it's entertainment. i've
got a wound farm in my privates.
by Hoolie
Sunday, December 17, 2017
desmadrona
oh my god I
haven't been breathing I'd
like to blow my breath in
and out
does self-sacrifice make
me pagan, or a mission
why
in this last
quadrant before I die,
what?
I want, and I still
want, and not for
nothing
Ilyn
"By Shab's heaving belly."
haven't been breathing I'd
like to blow my breath in
and out
does self-sacrifice make
me pagan, or a mission
why
in this last
quadrant before I die,
what?
I want, and I still
want, and not for
nothing
Ilyn
"By Shab's heaving belly."
Monday, December 11, 2017
Shrinking of society
You and all this will be a
waste of all five bedrooms
the dog fence, only for you
to watch and wait for vines
more likely light content-
ment creeps back, deepened
as for me elderly canine
duty instead of last-chance
graduate school, or hiking
in the Pyrenees, gratefully
by Jan
"Remember you get the house, Jan."
Labels:
filterofloathing,
Jan
Saturday, December 9, 2017
Acceptable level of heartbreak
If you want to be around and clean
up my mess I will make and make
make messes
If you go i'm crying in my stomach
and I throw up anything I encounter
is puke
I can't even look at who you will be
without my strengths and cancella-
tions.
by Donna
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Bucket Wig
ringlets, but swept up from the back
and brushed impossibly forward
then wrapped at the end like Kon-
Tiki, and the tendrils, lolling dots
of colored glass as from a horn.
and brushed impossibly forward
then wrapped at the end like Kon-
Tiki, and the tendrils, lolling dots
of colored glass as from a horn.
Friday, December 1, 2017
Obverse robinhood
I sense the heart
lidderly going out,
pressure from within
You pulling yoyo
string, thus the hate
in each wing flap
from a base of
everything, we've
topped the point
our life was:
trading away
hegemony
Hoolie
"Sorry."
lidderly going out,
pressure from within
You pulling yoyo
string, thus the hate
in each wing flap
from a base of
everything, we've
topped the point
our life was:
trading away
hegemony
Hoolie
"Sorry."
Friday, November 24, 2017
How come you got a hematoma?
outside the vienna beef
downchank from Chukka
Bowl, one of the flakes
they say you took it and
offered another cheek,
but did you really
i took it on both sides
the face and lidderly
saw stars of pacifism
Ilyn
(cousin)
downchank from Chukka
Bowl, one of the flakes
they say you took it and
offered another cheek,
but did you really
i took it on both sides
the face and lidderly
saw stars of pacifism
Ilyn
(cousin)
Labels:
chukkachank,
Ilyn,
snm
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
PharmSupply's Prolabique NEWLY PLUSH "LIP LUSH" LIP LINE by Connie
- Byzantine Disappointment
- Casc Antiq
- Skinheads on Cobblestones
- Bifurcacia
- Light Syrup
- Neck Heart Pits
- You-You-You
- Highest Setting
- Poplis
- Aerated Vessel
- Contradictory
- Red Light
- Oaths
- Cherry of Your Pipe
- Comfy Innocence
- Organ of Nature
- Ruddy September
- Way Forward
- Two Moons
- Gratuitous Bursts
- Amazing Witchery
- Transient Cavities
- Purple Jelly
- Vengeful Regret
- Festival Broth
- Abduct
- Bang Free
- First Bird
- Last Laugh
- Glowing Surfeit
- Crowning Paramount
- Residual Fanciness
- Glassy Earnest
- Anticipatory Sepukku
- Best Practice
- Green Rubber Smock
Tom, Sales
"Palett au coleurs do ano!"
Monday, November 6, 2017
My love never stood
and then there was the
australian-peruvian
he was like a prince
a real gentleman that
place in the casc-antiq
must have cost a fortune
i was stopped straight
down from its peak by
skinheads on cobblestones
in uniforms and formation
my love never stood
at the balcony in fright
Jan Jansdadd
Shard: "Rise of Rightness"
australian-peruvian
he was like a prince
a real gentleman that
place in the casc-antiq
must have cost a fortune
i was stopped straight
down from its peak by
skinheads on cobblestones
in uniforms and formation
my love never stood
at the balcony in fright
Jan Jansdadd
Shard: "Rise of Rightness"
halved, canned
had, could
don't, can't
won't, wouldn't
dried
light syrup
fresh
neck heart pits
velvet skin
bifurcated
by Mike
"Alkaline garden near the pool."
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
entificar
I promise to pathologize
and entify you, endeavor
to construe the closest
construct to a you you
With my whispers in
your heart, I'll send my
secrets in the dark to
find you you you
for Mike
by Dr. Donna Thong
"I remember the night."
and entify you, endeavor
to construe the closest
construct to a you you
With my whispers in
your heart, I'll send my
secrets in the dark to
find you you you
for Mike
by Dr. Donna Thong
"I remember the night."
Labels:
dr. donna thong,
Mike
Monday, October 16, 2017
Saturday, October 14, 2017
Drumming rains
the thunder came in
sounding like a gas
flame jet building to
its highest setting
drumming rains, not
rain, depending on
the heavens, always
draining and taking.
sounding like a gas
flame jet building to
its highest setting
drumming rains, not
rain, depending on
the heavens, always
draining and taking.
Filter of loathing
Like the new scrim in the sky above,
his entire stature was a filter for the
loathing of the poplis, an antenna or
dish, essentially convex, an aerated
vessel, representational of an ideal
who could be picked out in a crowd;
essentially invisible, contradictory.
Sylvia
"guess who?"
his entire stature was a filter for the
loathing of the poplis, an antenna or
dish, essentially convex, an aerated
vessel, representational of an ideal
who could be picked out in a crowd;
essentially invisible, contradictory.
Sylvia
"guess who?"
Labels:
filterofloathing,
Ilyn
Sunday, September 24, 2017
Pig shepherds
in response, we reverted
to a family-like structure with
oaths, rocking, game meats
or buy a red light and see
how green the cherry of your pipe,
just trying to hold your shit
by Hoolie
"Hot-Child-in-the-City Chank"
to a family-like structure with
oaths, rocking, game meats
or buy a red light and see
how green the cherry of your pipe,
just trying to hold your shit
by Hoolie
"Hot-Child-in-the-City Chank"
Friday, September 15, 2017
wide-straddling sado-recreationalist
He felt that acorns' plumets
were people throwing rocks
judgers standing too high to
see the faces or even shoes
gamers or conformists taking
their roles in comfy innocence
wide-straddling sado-recreationalist
Sylvia
"It's how I will remember Tom."
were people throwing rocks
judgers standing too high to
see the faces or even shoes
gamers or conformists taking
their roles in comfy innocence
wide-straddling sado-recreationalist
Sylvia
"It's how I will remember Tom."
Plant takes man
We are gaia's brain
So vital yet just an
Organ of nature
Our parts can sever
one another, to
varying degrees of
Destruction on a
scale of hand
taking foot or
Brain, reeling,
taking poison:
plant takes man
by Donna
a) "Today just Donna today."
b) "I kept adding 'today' to the ends of my sentences, and they still seemed to know I was an ex-con."
So vital yet just an
Organ of nature
Our parts can sever
one another, to
varying degrees of
Destruction on a
scale of hand
taking foot or
Brain, reeling,
taking poison:
plant takes man
by Donna
a) "Today just Donna today."
b) "I kept adding 'today' to the ends of my sentences, and they still seemed to know I was an ex-con."
Saturday, September 9, 2017
Monday, August 28, 2017
Beasting sorrow
this is the place i left behind
this is the place i'd long outgrew
this is the place i'm in right now, and
to make it worse i'm here with you.
by Mad Ted
"I'm outta su'um."
this is the place i'd long outgrew
this is the place i'm in right now, and
to make it worse i'm here with you.
by Mad Ted
"I'm outta su'um."
Labels:
ted
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
Coronal mass ejection
it was the day she said
"I can't see a way forward"
that we reflect on, two
moons later, needing
a coronal mass ejection
that gruesome darkness
precedes gratuitous bursts
by Tom
"I'm a work in progress."
Friday, August 18, 2017
Amazing witchery
Auntie Peg counted out loud by tens on her fingers so I could hear and see it. Surprised she didn't spell it out in my palms. Your father was born in 1948. You are two years older. I had to stop and think about it myself but it's true. Fifty-eight, sixty-eight, seventy-eight, eighty-eight, ninety-eight. Ninety-nine... that would make... 10, 20, 30, 40, 50. He died at fifty-one. You are fifty-three? It was an amazing witchery that she performed out of mathematics. I doubted.
by Hoolie
by Hoolie
Thursday, August 17, 2017
I watched my friends go insane
after the first round
mercifully died off
began a twitch and
baby rattles, spores
living out the norm
in transient cavities
alternate-grotesque
mercifully unaware
how gone, how far
mercifully died off
began a twitch and
baby rattles, spores
living out the norm
in transient cavities
alternate-grotesque
mercifully unaware
how gone, how far
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
What we know about K's
closest in the world you know to pterodactyl, but
similarities end there
smarter, have human genes
can mate with humans
excrete a glowing purple jelly
can be controlled remotely
by workers behind glass
are farmed illegally
are vengeful but regret
have ceremonial role with full consent
sense of history and purpose
participate in village raids in season
drop perfectly formed egg-like
turds weighing tons into decorative
caldrons of festival broth whose
scalding waves are enough to maim
a fortunate few
they can abduct humans
take them into their cliff nests
keep them as grooming slaves
and form strong emotional attachments
K's fly spread eagle
similarities end there
smarter, have human genes
can mate with humans
excrete a glowing purple jelly
can be controlled remotely
by workers behind glass
are farmed illegally
are vengeful but regret
have ceremonial role with full consent
sense of history and purpose
participate in village raids in season
drop perfectly formed egg-like
turds weighing tons into decorative
caldrons of festival broth whose
scalding waves are enough to maim
a fortunate few
they can abduct humans
take them into their cliff nests
keep them as grooming slaves
and form strong emotional attachments
K's fly spread eagle
when you [finely reach the day]
when you finely reach the day
that your father
never got older
he never got older than you today
never older
than you are right now boy
you get to it
you get to it and it bowls you over
it's the age that he died now
when you reach the day
the days that been waiting for you
you can see it clearly cause
you're in the moment now son
when I passed
from your eyes
and since then, in disguise
among everyone you know
they'll know you know it's true
you get set free today
the day I'm going to send you
forward, on
[REPEAT]
by Jan
that your father
never got older
he never got older than you today
never older
than you are right now boy
you get to it
you get to it and it bowls you over
it's the age that he died now
when you reach the day
the days that been waiting for you
you can see it clearly cause
you're in the moment now son
when I passed
from your eyes
and since then, in disguise
among everyone you know
they'll know you know it's true
you get set free today
the day I'm going to send you
forward, on
[REPEAT]
by Jan
Labels:
Jan
Saturday, August 5, 2017
The arch is not set
The arch is not set
even as the meat attached
jostles with enamel
for a bed
and the stress that lips apply
can't be disputed
Donna Thong
Transitioning
even as the meat attached
jostles with enamel
for a bed
and the stress that lips apply
can't be disputed
Donna Thong
Transitioning
Labels:
dr. donna thong
Monday, July 31, 2017
Tuesday, July 18, 2017
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