Monthly Archives: June 2020

Wanderlust I spent most of the last two days in an altered state of consciousness. Somewhat deluded, exhausted, and floating in and out of the lands of Fratish Sapish. Stop. Don’t open your Google Maps app and search it out, … Continue reading →

flarfish 5: dada flarf-a-rama Flarf poetry was an… scant garde poetry movement of the 21st century. corrosive, cute, or cloying, awfulness. Wrong. the style of which he promptly dubbed “Flarf,” with… something ineffable in Dada 3 (1918) , except that … Continue reading →

A Hawk Checks His Waterproofs A London man creates a call in exchange for the oft-deplored offer — characters dominated by the increasingly unhinged hawks on the banks of the Thames. Gophers ruin the soil before a Parliamentary veto on … Continue reading →

My Day in Fratish Sapish It was something like “together,” with the possibility of “maybe” — then it’s take a job, with the “most excellent” Thomas in Minnesota, near Bemidji, which was one of the really nice places. Then, cut … Continue reading →

flarfish 27: vaticination la luciernaga On two occasions, in fact, your face is particularly emphasized: similar to Foretell the future of us: firecracker: petardo firedepartment: bomberos firefly: luciérnaga firelight: luz del Vaticano At Vatican South July comes into focus accelerated … Continue reading →

Fox in a Cul-de-Sac Fade in: Fusty living room. Crepuscular light. Loud swelling radio chatter, multiple frequencies: reports of war, a horse race, cricket scores, market updates, easy listening music, someone reciting maths. A woman affecting classical statue poses. A … Continue reading →

The Eyeball Kid The voice of Spice, the synthetic marijuana, told him to go and surrender himself to the firefighters down the street — then it was the voice of god that echoed down the hallway. The living room fern … Continue reading →

making the scene: 1974 curls in nudie pix his left pupil, untethered, a fugue childhood of monticule hunger on loan, uncomfortably, wide-eyed face in cathode ray fuzz hell-shock door, unlocked, “fuck away from the exhaust vent above” a hive of, … Continue reading →

Pepi Poppers There’s something of the sybarite about her. She plays the lute too loud and with reckless abandon — popping strings here and there and singing haltingly about fucking. About what? Yeah, and she eats too many moon pies … Continue reading →

flarfish 9: anthophilous stooge indicator strife demonitised… obsequiously  one touch option bitcoins stress glances and dung beetles old / established / proleptically stalking,  & disciplining Rob. anglo-indian indulgences… indulge the broadcast of a fatty stooge — he blathers & mispunctuates … Continue reading →