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....

i step away (redux)

Posted on May 3, 2021 by istsfor manity

Fall Fall. Fall, I say. She doesn’t. She stays perched on her branch. Fall, I say. She does not. This ritual—the repetition is liturgical. A call and response in absentia. There is no rejoinder. There is no: and also with … Continue reading →

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harangued and harassed

Posted on May 2, 2021 by istsfor manity

Tide Pool Nature repulsed her in myriad ways—psychological and visceral assaults. She needed to be harangued and harassed—everyday and in every way. Her Sisyphean rock would be the nocturnal infrared world she sensed in the water. She would remain in … Continue reading →

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infrared all night

Posted on May 1, 2021 by istsfor manity

Tenebrous She went away to Maine for a day. The water was infrared all night. A fitful trip during a tenebrous year. “In the process of being broken open, worn down, and reshaped, an uncommon tranquility can follow. Our undoing … Continue reading →

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nothing was itself

Posted on April 30, 2021 by istsfor manity

Niz-nil-limbo She no longer knew what to make of anything— She understood nothing— Nothing was itself— This meant nothing. This means nothing. “It doesn’t matter what time of day you work, but you have to work every day because creation, … Continue reading →

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why read signs

Posted on April 29, 2021 by istsfor manity

Signs & Legends There is no legacy in semiotics, she thought—nothing to tether to—not land, historical connection, cultural heritage—it was a deep deracination. She found no reason for planting any of her own signs, for setting my own roots, for … Continue reading →

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the sharp husks

Posted on April 28, 2021 by istsfor manity

The Point Clodomira’s legs are whirring pistons.  She’s up over 100 revolutions per minute on her bike.  The countryside streaks by her and in these few seconds there is no revolutionary struggle, no ultimate leader, no great leap forward.   The fervor of … Continue reading →

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smattering of skulls

Posted on April 27, 2021 by istsfor manity

The Shrike Strikes The kill. The shrillShrikeStrikesCarnivorous—Tears a mouseHead from neck— Alights proudUpon his moundOf bones &A smatteringOf skulls. The thrill. “The Germans puzzled me. What a waste. Was such a destitute, cruel world worth ruling?” ― Jerzy Kosiński / … Continue reading →

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or your spleen

Posted on April 26, 2021 by istsfor manity

A merry place to lose an eyeball or your spleen. Being splenetic was only the half of it. There was no self awareness. “Lesson Ten: Poets, forget the classical meters, except if it’s to keep you above the breadline.” — … Continue reading →

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make biomorphic art (redux)

Posted on April 25, 2021 by istsfor manity

A Case of Writer’s Block Clodomira could not work on her novel anymore. Her amygdala, congenitally small, blew a couple of nuclei.  That caused a fiber in her subiculum, long frayed, to brown-out.  And down the line, in quick succession, the mammillary … Continue reading →

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gibby’s golden age

Posted on April 24, 2021 by istsfor manity

Making the World Safe for Capitalism You play me “The Internationale” and I’ll stand and sing? Sing what? Sing the anthem? Huh … wha … anthem? Yes, it’s an anthem. I’ll stand and sing. You just play it. I don’t … Continue reading →

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