sour broiling turkey

(Press play above for the “Uncle Bill” Thanksgiving classic … unless you’re easily offended, in which case I suggest you move on and enjoy your holiday. Warning: adult language)

Hegemonic Extirpation Day Blues

A litter of puppies feeding in the corner of the living room. Dried shit streaked on the bathroom towels. The, too-early, Christmas tree is canted and some of the ornaments are unfurling their covers revealing the styrofoam balls beneath the loosened string. The last year they had glass ornaments the piles of colored glass shards spread throughout the living room—my cousin wore multiple band aids on his feet. Those styrofoam balls must be 25 years old now. That smell is truly remarkable—sour broiling turkey mixed with wet dog fur, overfull litter box, and Lysol. Happy, happy, joy, joy.

This is fall in Jamaica Plain, MA, on 11/25/2021, at 7:19am.

“…Westernized tentacles of Thought
Colon(-ized) instinctual urges
s(M)other the Matriarch’s head…”

—Esther Belin / “(De)colonial Therapy”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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