AQUA-CAT

Call it "Aqua-Cat"; you -- meaning, I -- hope it will make 'em laugh.
"Aqua-Cat and the trash bandits erect revolutionary 'green' recycling center,"
will say the fake headlines. The New Pornographers,
zheez-new-conformistssss, Batdorft would hiss,
all this new fiction appearing like a stark
usher appearing and saying
"I am Doug Main's favorite
death metaphor," the stark usher, a park plusher
than your quarters, containing row after row of
well? --pointless wordplay, (not you, Tal, an impersonal
fiction) for these men and their new cigarettes.

That's right! I contain multitudes, would say Norman
Mailer, that Brooklyn-Jew-Harvard-Army kid who
not enough people read, what a piece of work, just like
me? right, just like me, just like you.

Which comes to the harder part -- the brick-laying,
the deeper art, the Aqua-Cat we can't get rid of.

The whole Point here being that I saw a promising
young co-ed, whose sweatshirt said something like
"Aqua-Cat," but it wasn't quite that -- it even more
obscure, but not as absurd -- the absurd being the
bend in the rake that makes it useful for something.
Not Nihilism or waste: The appreciation, the appreciation
of shoals and heart and dynamite and the written word
and everything that involves herbal medicine and spacecraft.

Absurd: absurdist. Learn to live with it
or die without
loving
it.

Stanzas are
for a reason.

So am I: Soma, body, blind luncheons.
Is the food better? I don't know. Ask the
sightless. I'd be interested. Probably the taste would
(lacking sight -- that 20th century sense)
prove more intense. Like sex w/ studded or ultra-sweet
condoms designed for all sorts of enhanced
pleasure. You know this new technology, right?
I can't keep my eyes off it.