Author Archives: istsfor manity

Fifteen Bashings You want Sasquatch to watch… I’m dysphoric and elipsis-phobic Dreaming of the drama at the diorama atop Lookout Mountain — shit no! Trip your mama by the squelcher and palaver at the knees of Booth Tarkington and the … Continue reading →

Yaw and Jam To yaw and jam… Your paradiddles and ratamacues are killing me Don’t be here for me: Sugar Sugar and John Barley Corn Must Die Seriously? In susurrations and cackles In blood bruises and blisters Blister in the Sun  … Continue reading →

Fishy Fishy Fishy Poo It’s not piscatorial you’re feeling. You’ve never been to sea. It’s not enmity you’re feeling. You meditate every morning that you are: peaceful and content in every way and every day. You’re feeling like a scarlet … Continue reading →

Yes… You are alive. That’s something. “…you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.” — Samuel Beckett / The Unnameable

Annihilation Haiku The mushroom cloud grows Across the blind horizon A dead gray snow falls “… for the eyes of the children of nagasaki, for the eyes of the children of middle passage, for cherokee eyes, ethiopian eyes, russian eyes, … Continue reading →

Gormless Writers — No more talk of fish. — Let’s talk about the month long break from writing. — Let’s not.   — Let’s write about the month long leave from writing.  — Let’s  not. — Let’s consider the month … Continue reading →

Of Joubles and Gangles It’s a little troublesome this hankering for a jouble when there are only gangles about. It was established in the 14th century, that joubles were preferable to gangles, and so this is the way today.   … Continue reading →

Phosphene Dream He produced phosphenes that smelled of mandarin oranges — a strange synesthetic effect that followed the orange-rimmed yellow spots that exploded in his closed-eye vision. He thought this was an improvement on the phosphenes of his youth that … Continue reading →

Tonight, Yesterday & Some Night to Come He lives with ephemeral creatures under his feet and creatures over his head. A case in point: his thoughts diverting his elbow’s skin and the rubbing of tender footing. Sycamores make wide arm … Continue reading →

Happenstance is Crapenstance Out of the inkwell comes Yonki the heavily sedated quualude dealer. A fuzzy jewfro and pockmarked face wearing his favorite ribbed tank top fraying at the edges by his armpits. He calls out to Lester the methadone … Continue reading →