Monthly Archives: April 2020

Keeper of The Doomsday Clock I am the keeper of the Doomsday Clock. I know what will happen to us. I know how the world ends, but I don’t tell you. I’ll keep you in the dark. I stopped the … Continue reading →

Flarfish 10: woman shadow of a doubt (english to spanish to esperanto to english translation) He told the woman with progressive brightness That a crazy white hat should be a trick of the shadows Shadow of a Doubt … ALL … Continue reading →

Two Views: A Cut-Up Bedtime Story (a found and a cut-up poem) I. X.’s home was a shambles: piles of amber eyes, clouds of fleas and other debris, the ritual heads against our legs; red bodies were discovered – strong … Continue reading →

Flarfish 16: mumpsimus earwig I’m about to die of pleurisy… Take a moment to note the reading and book… For two days I have had these lines stuck in my head… Don’t worry about me around these here parts, but … Continue reading →

Like Drinking Molasses He woke up that night aposiopetic. He spoke in fits. He spoke in starts that ended abruptly. Just as a thought was gathering steam he’d hit a wall and become suddenly silent. He didn’t even taper off, … Continue reading →

flarfish 33: palindromic grimalkin serpentear The old snake-charmer, The iron queen, the river winds across a wide plain squiggles along your ear, staying in place by Having a barn cat will make your life on the farm much easier This … Continue reading →

flarfish 30: Orphic quiriquiqui gallo quiquiriqui, as the Spanish nursery- language calls him, has a lone collection of everybody’s essays in Europe expressed in that passage of monotheism, it became a secret of the priests; nevertheless, in the Orphic Hymn … Continue reading →

The Pivot Point I’m not really hungry just now… she wrote longhand, the first time in weeks, in her journal. And she thought that odd because she’d been ravenous all throughout her illness, and hadn’t written a thing, but now … Continue reading →

Pscittacisms Ambigram, anagram, Bring me sate Destitute, prostitute, Slap my bald pate. Epigraph, paragraph Please do as I bid Ostracism, psittacism Here I whither… Wanna’ cracker? “Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy” — Jack Kerouac

138 Pieces I wrote this yesterday under the influence of twin tornadoes While hiding under the bed with my grandmother and dog I planned a funeral as mattresses, pans and medicines strafed the air I saw my brother’s arm impaled … Continue reading →