Angles in the Arctic (Pilot)

"It's always Christmastime in these parts, Johnny," said the old man, who had the skittishness of a ruminant nursing young.

"Which way's East?" I asked.

"Depends on who's asking, in'-it?"

"Beg pardon, old man?" Hiss in my voice.

"It's that way," he said, gesturing.

That was the problem with these washed out North Pole exurbs, I thought. All the ex-elf foreman were bitter, brittle, but they had no heart when you really got down to it. Sure, they'd go through the motions like they wanted to fight, to show their smiling starving beautiful children of light that their daddy was worth something, worth a helluva lot come to think, and no way, NO WAY was ol' Daddy going to put up with any old traveler such as myself asking him for directions. Hence the yuletide prodding from the get-go. Yes, I'd bested the geezer. But why leave it there? I pulled out my Luger and shot him in the dick.

All Aboard To Piperburg

Aye, said the cloying pirate
who smelled like cinders or
christmas mints.

Cylinder.
Cylinder.
Cold-tab.

There are our favorite flavors.
(Sand-Snipe!)
(Imagined nutmeg!)

Sand-towel.
Head-garb.

Aliza with a bright shawl
Midnight Rose in the garden
brandishing a duckhammer
and swearing in Polish

Snitches running the alleys
these days with pipers and
strollers and boobs
spilling out their pockets.
Christmas.

Bermy Foss o' Duckwood Green

bermy foss o'er duckwood green
original pancake houses
you & my original twin
ate lettuce in the garden.
a tin box of convents at noon.

this is how i explained myself
to the doorman.
he didn’t like this one bit.

<>
I am one day
going to lead
our band to stardom.

Passes in the wind
some scent of freedom:
a dead skunk.

First pipe of the mission Ordinary,
because less common now,
diversify your entry,
and waylay your tomorrows.
Welcome, to Piperburg.

Snowshells are better than no shells

Shel Snowverstein
on the beach
scouring for cowries
Snowsock on his toes
"suck my Snow Cock, bros"

it takes a keen eye, and a keen eye.
what's left is right, get into it
you can't spell intuition without it
"it" is in tuition, too: two issuances

The market for seashells is virtually nonexistent (emphasis added)
but there's seashells galore, a neverending free supply
as mollusks are left for dead, among the floating plankton
hermit crabs are fickle - the nomads of the sea

I search for the Evershell
the Purple Conch
Seashellbiscuit
Mishell Obama
Snailmobile 5000

The one thing I know is
I'll never snowshell again.
At least not on shrooms

Incantation (Adagio)

Never the tomorrow snowshell,
Never the tomorrow snowshell,
Never the tomorrow snowshell.

To-Never, ...
To-Morrow...
... (To-No-Shell.)

Exhibition A

I hope you realize
every exhibition you have missed.
Amy at the frieze, Amy
between the thumbs of the statue
David. It had been -- it was --
more than enough to say: drab.

Thanks us slowly. That's what
she said, any way. Her hand
was on the table, her mind was
on the radio, her dress was
nice-it-was-white
; WHOMEVER GOES HERE,
BEWARE!!! ; said her eyes
when she wasn't thinking about
what she looked like.

This was often. If I say
I cried on the doorstop, will you
free me? Is that what honesty
costs these days?

javascript:void(0)

Blind spiderweb

The spider's web
is blind.
Was blind, had been culled,
just before the dawn
or after the skipper sunk.
Beneath the gunk at the bottom
of the harbor. Oil &
/ or
s o i l e r o s i o n.

Problems mounting becoming one:
---the need to change our ways---

An often eluding urgency. Felt
but not committed. Recycled but
not co-mingled. Intermittent
is only constant
on the constant fading white of noise.
That's an intelligence term. Like
the box in all our houses:
television. Transport your vision
not to the fake future, the wrangled
misunderstood past (there is no other
way), or to the present world being
filmed: IT IS NOT YOURS.

Make it. Make it / love us / take it
at your own leisure. There is no time;
there is little time.

As they say, the spider web is ulimately
blind. Said differently: every man has
limitations. Spiders hunt closer
the truth. Even then it's a battle
and no small one: death,
(then a breath) ... life.

Excellent Beginnings

Burn down the bowling alley until nothing's left.
Except a scar of black question marks on the hillside.
That's right, I looked toward the Drink-&-Bowl (or
so I named it) every time I drove past. Northbound
Indiana state highway 41. Those were
in the days when I would regularly smoke marijuana
on forays through the Hoosier state.
Some fields, a picnic there. Grass, clouds,
boys, mainly not, barns, just space.

Space and more space. Grist. Earth. Trees
and threaded fencerows. Burn the braying
shapes of ancestors with the county building.
Take the universities while you're at it. The places
of knowledge. Dredge the rivers. Disrupt the hydrology.
Call it a case of
excellent beginnings.

loaded mountain man

burn the buried building while we can
decline to erect stadiums in old quarries
think of the lumberjacks shining, swimming.
they had banquets then with real mountainmen
wild boys of the land trading funky specimens
of beaver pelts, axes, grindcorn, mexican
medicinal rubs, gunpowder
and the one they call wilt-a-weed.
that one made you curl up in the sun
like a kitty-kat.

in any case they had no beverage sponsor.
there were sherlock wizards counting their purchases
spying on them through magic boxes in the televisions,
computers, smart phones, lecticorns, spy-boxes,
federally mandated spy-cells and mini cams
they put in all those pills
that we swallow.

Dog Fists

Even the Dog Fists were half-alien
at some time. But like all good
tribesman, they became spirits
at the broom of dusk
but
what have we here a cock-a-roach,
a cocca-doodle-doo, some shithead
research laboratorist stashing lobotomies
on sideway mirrors lecturing through the
unicorn lenses of ever-sideways tomorrows

I'm giving you a compliment

no exceptance, no expectance.
Accept it.
April rains bring May grass

The bloomers are flowing
lowering
blowing

We're gonna go bowling
eat banana splits
listen to a record

We're gonna fucking bowl
We're gonna get there soon, son
we're gonna burn it down

Douse it - that's it boy. More fire. Gasoline.

"Arson" is a gerund.

Burn the bowling alley til it's gone.

rocks, glass

i am everything (i have)
ever made. we are more than
their rocks and glass. we are
our own kind of support. we
are water after all, water
(shining through) the fish glass,
or the glass fish. the eel-grass
as it was in May, for example.
how the crane tiptoes through
the swamp, after all. doesn’t it
feel great to be alive? doesn’t it
just fit, right in there, when you
burn down every place you have
ever been?

Illegal Blog Moment

BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG

BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG

BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG

BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG

BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG BLOG

The Tattletale's Postcard

I got this postcard from an old friend who had been going through some troubles with addiction.

“Stumbling upon
a choir of work-a-day nuns shoveling coal

was watching lethargy
burn in effigy.

Effortlessly,
Eric.”

I wish I knew what he meant.

A Terrible Thing To Overhear

[LOUD GASP]

DONNIE DARKIE: SOMEBODY TESTED MY SPACESHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DONNIE DONNIE: Not your SPACESHIP???????

DONNIE DARKIE: YES, YOU IDIOT, MY SPACESHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Poison Promise

poison make you happy
heppy and ssssssad.

Verrrry heppppy end veryyyyyyyy ssssssssad.
No pueblo, senioritas, I said,
biting into a cordita. Thing is,
it was a sandwiche.

::::::BITE SPONGE::::::::

The wheels at midnight turn
on every capered owl, hour
turn the sly snow glass sly
turn the bye-bye jug of Noke away.

Snay bye' Numero Dos

Sssssssnay-bye' make you say bye bye
she say
ssssnay bye' make you feel guuuuhd
poison make you happy,
happy and ssssssad

Goodbye snakebite
good day spider
spinster god
original splinter
my eyes are clouds

SODA, red rum
el capitain morgan
private stock
such a backwards label
MURDER, a dos

Es espanol for murder of two
somebody get snay-bye tonight
someone get snay-bye reeeal guuuhd
somebody gonna get dead
bit in the neck tonight