Author Archives: istsfor manity

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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....

gonna lay down

I Once Was Lost (redux) He first sang a song called “Brave New Defalcation Rocket.” I had no idea what he was on about — a caterwaul that passed for singing, I suppose. He desultorily strummed on an electric ukulele, … Continue reading

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a kind thought

Celibates and Paraphiliacs Sustain yourself with necro-normative inclinations, make use of what you consume, trap your inner child in an iron maiden. Spend time with your inner critic’s internal monologues parsing the sections of your Id with a rusty chainsaw … Continue reading

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cudding for the cuddling

Hardly Rickets’ Sanguinary Holiday Hardly Rickets, all American life saver and literary critic, wants to save the world from itself. Wants to don the all purpose All American Halloween costume—wants to be a fungal tree growth but can’t decide between … Continue reading

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did you know

brave new defalcation rocket 2 did you know?the year meaning diedthe last alliterativecommentator complainedkin is redundantavoid relatives “The moon of every night is not the moonThat the first Adam saw.The centuriesOf human wakefulness have left it brimmingWith ancient tears.” — … Continue reading

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guesstimate and plannify

Poor Clockface Bradbury Bradbury said he didn’t need an alarm clock. I saw the phrase in passing without its context, so I’m left with this vision of a man machine with a clock face for a visage. A veritable clock … Continue reading

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shot by booster

Booster Shot Tanka Man shot by booster—Fever dreams / sleep of reason—Cavorting beastiesCourse through a body derailed:A self-styled auto-da-fé. “Anything a writer says about their work is outside the work, a stranger to it. It’s a different language. It’s almost … Continue reading

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your curls frizz

Your Ruff Collar, My Millstone We live under the heat dome. I see you across the barren parklet.You are eating bits of soft pink flesh. My hair wilts.Your curls frizz. I lick the hot sauce off my fingers.You yell that … Continue reading

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will work for

Gutty Haiku (redux) I will work for tripePepper pot is beautifulVisceral goodness “America the footsteps of your ghosts are white stones weighting my center“ — Aria Aber / “America”

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guilty breath lock

pantoum(ish) death breath guilty baitlock breathdeath guilty breathlock baitdeath death lockbait breathguilty breath lockbait deathguilty lock breathbait guiltydeath death baitguilty lockbreath breath guilty lock death bait breath bait lock death bait breath death death breath death bait “I tend not … Continue reading

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in my neighborhood

We choose a mantic thanksgiving—dark and steep… We live as prelude to the mother of all bloodlettings… We jockey frenetic prayers—glean sources—Sleep the sleep of strangers … Ghosts in your house—Live through your eyes—live your memories… The wizard of siren … Continue reading

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