Author Archives: istsfor manity

A Muzz of Voices S. understands nothing.  He tries, squint-eyed,  to turn his brain over.  Without spark, the ignition doesn’t catch. S. sees himself, monochromatic, on the screen of  his childhood 1974 Panasonic.  He’s talking globular in a rectangular city.  … Continue reading →

Happy So And So, And A Stupid New Year S. woke up dumber in the new year than he had been in the old year when he fell asleep.  This was the first time he fell asleep before midnight on … Continue reading →

Sisyphus Greets The New Year Such is the manner of a new year — boulder aside… Awake in a daze.  So much to look forward to at once, then you must deconstruct it into 365 pieces and concern yourself with … Continue reading →

The Daily Ablution There is a boy whose head is on fire.   A nine year old boy who has recently dispensed with god and love because they dispensed with him.  His father beats his mother on occasion — preferably in … Continue reading →

opening: the sperm switch (cut-up poem #627) about 15 people  are considering a man from the lab fathering children  they don’t know and endlessly repeating  the next generation   “Abandon the idea that you are ever going to finish. Lose … Continue reading →

You Cannot Be Anything If You Want To Be Everything In her dream she was at a garish fairground carnival under a cloudless dayglo blue sky.  She was separated from her parents.  She panicked.  She was lost in this strange … Continue reading →

Perfect Disasters The devil is making appearances on a daily basis.  I’m making something of a Herculean effort to quash this Sisyphean impulse.  My parents come home early and discover me playing with large cockroaches while the guitar in the … Continue reading →

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 →

trash dash:  manhattan iii.   behind me a college student tried to convince a young girl to elope the ritual of the second drink —    demulcent for a moment —    the argument lost it’s tune like a good … Continue reading →

Manos: A Slice of My Memories (a blackout poem)   Christmas was sheer terror. Every year as dark descended, my mother appeared — ghastly hands perched at the end of the table ancient twins:   A slice of fixed mistrust. … Continue reading →