Monthly Archives: November 2020

cluelessness was her aspiration omission was her inclination forgetfulness was her destination tra la la, she said cluelessness was his indignation commission was his situation punctiliousness was his inspiration tra la la, he said it seemed to work without resignation … Continue reading →

Violet Bathroom Dictator He is the violet Bathroom dictator; king of the plastered Hairspray combover. He is fall October turning chill at 10:09 p.m.; a smoldering  Ruin, abandoned house burnt. He is tornadic  Aftermath, roiling clouds receding; Waxing solar eclipse. … Continue reading →

extra writes from a dismembered day — soufflé and sachets from the brink the phloem and xylem of a fruitful life which bore only pits a storm of gyring octothorpes interrobangs & ampersands full of fury full of sound symbolizing … Continue reading →

Feel The Heat Closing In “!Clase de bamba, clase de bamba!” is what the bird says every time I move. It squawks too — if I don’t move — but clase de bamba is on repeat for the last 15 … Continue reading →

There Was Nothing Nothing in the darkness. First thought best thought was moot. His brain went mute, all circuits switched. Long stretches of imperfect dendrites. Long stretches of boredom and damnation. Then a spark. Detonation. Clean developments. Cold synapses. Withered … Continue reading →

Chuck and Knuckles the Dog (Who Helps People) Chuck Heston was in my head again. I fell asleep last night thinking I need a new muse. I’ll be damned if Chuck Heston didn’t show up for self-appointed rounds through my … Continue reading →

“… as though it were the artist’s duty to create hope, but out of what? what? the word itself false, a device to refute perception — …” — Louise Glück / “October”

Just Do It! “Ever since Trump was elected, we have been living through things that we would find overplayed and unbelievable in fiction and film and they keep on coming…” — Rebecca Solnit / “Chrome-Plated Pistols and Pink Polos: The … Continue reading →

The Day After the Day of the Dead “… and task demotion is nearly over,” she says. “Sure, go north,” the man says. “Proceed past the turnpike interchange and…” He stops pointing west north west, rubs his chin and says, … Continue reading →

November Spawned a Monster October is in the rear view. The rear view is in the river. Pelagic creatures are flopping about in the shallows wondering where the encroaching oceans went. The monks are illuminating by the gallows. The henchmen … Continue reading →