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Tag Archives: Random Sights with Signs
flecky eyefuls jaundice
What You Said at N+15 What could I possibly say when you say (backhand): it’s you. I don’t know if you’re talking twang, talking to those radicals, or if you’re addressing me. Somehow, judging by the tonsure of your vole, … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Chance Operations, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Dada, Drama is the Opiate of the Masses, Dream Notation, Erasure Poetry, Experimental writing, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing
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happy three to thee
huh? wha’? wha’ happened?! While I wasn’t paying attention this endeavor turned two years old, on 11/17/21, and quickly shifted into its third year of existence … Hey, hurray, harrumph! This is still: thee istsfor manity reader And this remains … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Chance Operations, Collage, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Documentation, Dream Notation, Experimental something, Experimental writing, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Post-Apocalypse, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing
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the original skin
Writing Us into Existence I. He took off his shoes and the right pinkie was exposed — nude, malformed, and smelling like Limburger from six feet away. A couple of wiry hairs arcing over the sock. She, on the other … Continue reading
in my neighborhood
be real, be here, get me through this turbulence please, see me in a mirror that distorts be the pain within mekeep me underscored & over-nourished please, i no longer wish to assimilate be the impulse i’d like to deterbring … Continue reading
in my neighborhood
You are like the tuber of calcaneous, necessary but non-articulating… Without you there is no ambulating me… The things you said to me in your gasps and low moans: “They transferred me to room 15…” “It’s the same to die … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Chance Operations, Creative Writing, Cut-Up Writing, Documentation, Drama is the Opiate of the Masses, Dream Notation, Flash Fiction, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Paranoiac-Critical, Photography, Poetry, Post-Apocalypse, Prose Poetry, Random Sights with Signs, Writing
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in my neighborhood
To help me further illustrate the immortalwe mayfly and quilt towardindecision and worry trips. Why do the shambles—the tomtits of whistle plaid doos—the pachinko palleters suffer the nape of the midden? You are an empty idyll in is true hue—swizzled … Continue reading
in my neighborhood
I forget what that final word is … Time fog is hellish … What more do you require on the day of your death at 5:26 am? You’re welcome! The signs of the apocalypse are stark and plentiful. “I must … Continue reading
in my neighborhood
If you took a mondegreen and somehow made it a spondee … would grass grow from its base and spread a towering canopy from its expanding branches … and throw us into shadow for two/thirds of the year? A gutbucket … Continue reading
off my arteries
Idioteque, Arizona Speaks Philanthropy feels more like idiopathic shill-anthropy in these waning days of the Anthropocene. Cleave my heart on your plow, speed the ventricle asunder, and wave the cluster of veins, arteries and capillaries over your head. Oh what … Continue reading
fool-animal earwigging
Highest Eminence O, pallid bat, wombat, scarlet tanager, marmoset and all the little animals of the world that spark wars and worldwide grief! Listen! Ye who visit our leaders’ dreams at night and whisper all types of destructive and inhumane … Continue reading