I knew my hand would freeze&burn the
moment shall I shall wake up shall

three options many choices two feelings many feelings

Sunday Morning

so these men we don't kNOW how many exACTly

these men LAUGHed and sTALKed ‘em pigeon makin’em 

TOo tired they couldn't fly no MorE

should-a heard….cryin-out for some help…. one strange thing I’D ever heard! 

SOBER hunGRy they cooked these OWL-ish, TOo feathersoME crEatures worn Their darn beaks round ‘EM necks

can’t aVOID it, caN you! lIGHTing struck eveRy sIngle one of Them, friZzled ‘em men gold like fried eggs..

that, mind You, iS The version i'd tell my grandson.

the stORY TELLINGly happened like this:

the two CROOKS cooked them AND wore the briC-A-Brac beaks around their necks

victoriously DaRIngly innocently

and turned to pigeons themselves

they mocked each other until they couldn't fly anymore

then the earth split up, sputtERing in rageS, carrying each of them off like drifting ON AN ISLAND

Hot with boiling yIPPIng treachERous magMA and all horrifying Sound effectS

desperate to be connected with one another, one of them made a leap

into the abyss he went

falling in a mad trance, only those so beautifully young would know of I'm sure

the NEXT man wailed for help

 but someone misread his OUTburst for a couRAGEOUS war Growl and

he was wALLOPed up whole

fatigue famish DESIRE conspire

mERMaid flocking Around, Happening Around, wET the residue of pigeon feather with their sCaly fins and drEnched long hair

tangling me, conTEmplating whether to let me live to tell this story

what happened afterwards, like any ReAl story,

we shall never quIte KNOW.

Dwelling a.t the bottom o.f myc/u.p

Irish Whisk-y (whisk! key, key, key)

+jealousy seeping from your language

shielding you away from atrocity seems like a plausible affection, connection

continuously thinking about that isanotherissue

the day is long (the night is long)

min.dfu-l you. min/d you. mid day you.

true.

AND YOU you

(subterranean animal)

THOUGHT IT COULDN'T you

(leaving behind wet, slurpy footsteps on the velvet carpet staircase)

GET TO you

(staircase-a-lookin' fuzzy, quite different, especially in this angle of dustiest sunlight)

BETTER you

(better you, better you, better you)


Quarrelsome subterranean animals bettering you,

tell me about it, huh.

I keeps on stepping on ma coat, hoisting up the stairs

on 59th street, where so many shoes have left their invisible takings

breathtaking everything is so take your cameras out, good, now

now is the right time, to better you, to you better.

You are so soft
so feathery

so distant

so good

can I touch you for just a bit of a second?

and you go off, to your extremely trivial-but-important daily issues

addressing them as if you would a snowstorm

oh Dear

Climbing up the impalpable railings

up to the ship that is steaming and whistling its hollow blow horns

predictably off 'round the world to sail to

Ipanema!.. (what about that) Sao Paolo!.. (tell me about it)

you/ always/ awkward/ skimming/ through

the one book you should've read. I/ seek

from half the world away/ don't

judge; tuck/ in/ this/ for euphemism, take that wisdom, just do it

do/ do/ do/ do/ do/ don't/ do

Such a long time since I last saw you! Dreamwise and re-alit-y wise.
There is no reality within you or among ourselves, though.

Anyway lot attempting to throw a whatnot gathering, seated at those white-crist table clothed tables that
they probably use in collecting ballots
in the countryside, on a Sunday after noon next to the fair and the ferris wheels and the country fair
bits of red and blue confetti falling through the clouds and your hair

Anyway you stormed us up a feast, tweaking this bit and that
bit with your usual, cunningly-sharp sharp senses
I wish you had feelers, because then you could be a
silver metallic bug when you don't want to work anymore and crawl under a flyer and just
dream.

Anyway one very classy friend of mine was doing something very not classy and the room
erupted into bits of gigglish-tickilish laughter and I laughed too
You were nowhere to be seen otherwise, and I assumed you were in the kitchen trying to do something
nice to your already prepared extravaganza of dishes

something usually not necessary.

Anyway

twirl, heard it girl. girl. girl. girl

on/ to/ staircase

leap/ in/ a/ coined/ factitious/ manner

surprise/ the/ cold/ ne/ s/ s

s/ s/ s/ sh-shh-hh-/ hhhhhh!/ h!/

search warrant

time's runnin'

people coming out of the double brass gates just coming together

never really falling apart

I'll catch you

A slinky, wide-brimmed hat
that resembled nothing other than the most handsome
flying disk

..(disk-o-rama..)

anyway I donned it.

It was fanfanfan fantabulous.

morning snow. will/ work for. me

w.w l/w r.m

your tail was striped with linen and salt
I count the moments where I understood

conceive
this new melody of hyper-action, dis-connection

make it to the moon
and tell me then

Ouaohs your stomach-ache-oh

Killing the top of the ratio

filter fil-te-r f-i-l-t-er that catttttttterpillar!

take me take me take me take me take me take me out
to the ball game
take me take me take me take me out
to the seaside

t-t-t-taaa ta ta tam tam du bum bum

ouahosyourstomach-ache-oh!

Up on the

ceiling

wondering what

her intended reply would be
like

in a million light

years

Saw a map
floating somewhere between
redemption and luck.

"I just didn't wannawakeup! (d-d-d d-d-d!)
 I just didn't wannawakeup! (d-d-d d-d-d!)
 I'm tellin' you--just didn'twannawake uuuuup (dr-dr-dr du-du-du!)
 Uuuuuup I'ma tellin' you!..Just didn't wanna, wake, wake, wake, up"

Shouts from a Screamin' Jay Hawkins donning storm-of-a-girl
Waking me up in three in the morning, ready oh so ready! To shatter the lives of many.

To infinity and beyond, my good friend.

Where I'd first smelled the sea breeze, tumbled up in time and longevity, grace, and a bit of a nap.
A sunny nap. A good nap.

A hole in the endless extent of a single day,
encouraging me to keep on sleeping.

I'm only sleeping, I'm only sleeping..

Black ocean tides, smell of benzene and something other
Something Warmer.

*          *          *

Fiddling with a little disaster that could've taken place (but not really, not really, at all...)
The tantrum throwing schemes, the terrible scenes of unattempted crime (tempting!)
The shadows lurking in the hems of my bedroom curtains, just waiting for pedestrians to take notice.
I'm here, I'm not here; where d'you think I'd be?

Trapped in the dark auditorium while the storm blew the rest of the houses away,

she, looking at the bruise on my left elbow; "What d'you do?"

"I don't remember," I mumbled, "Think it had something to do with horses and tractors."

"And red fences?"

"Yes. And red broken fences, actually."

Then we exchanged our funny greetings and went our own ways.

Right or Left?

All my loving people were seated, chummed up, at a banquet table.
A best friend catches my eye and ushers me to sit next to him. "C'mon!"
But I spot an old lover and can't help but to sit next to him instead.

Grief. Guilty delight. A little bit of mischief-happiness.
I'm sorry, but I'm really not.

We talk about good California Chardonnay. He astonishes me by choosing the right words.
Apologises for not making it to dinner the other night. "That's quite alright." I shrug.
"No, I'll make up for it soon anyway," he gleams,"and not now. Now, I am temporarily occupied with choosing the right kind of anise for my new dish."
"What dish?"

The table freezes. Murmurs; "Anise, is it? That's in this extraordinary dinde du chocolate...?"
He shrugs (muks). "Yes yes. Still on the road to perfection, alas..."
Cheers, excitement, a lovely chaos. Another best friend (the dearest of all kinds) exclaims;
"I just KNEW you'd marvel us one day!"

And I love him.

A boy in a crowded morning deli, staring out the window.
In the most humorous of all ways! I turned round across the windowpanes to paint him a song.
It started out just jiggly, but came out funnily chappy.

A young girl came by to take his orders---"So kid, what do you want?"
A sophisticated look is borne in his blue yonder eyes; "A Night Cap if you do not mind."
"Sure. With free range milk?"
"Yes," he nodded, and was already gazing out of the window.
Watching the whole world just slowly crawl by.

His name was Jamie, I just know it.

"Oi, d'you wanna hear my Whatnot Story?", she says, absolutely beaming. A blazing sun.
I am quite happy enough to think, "well....!" (but instead retreat to my heap of purple feathers in the corner). "Yeah---so let us hear it."
"Well first," she starts, "I had an impeccable image of a young Paul Newman."
"An impeccable image you say?"
"Yes. The night was moving all so very fast, you see...so I saw this Paul Newman just right in front of me, his body being flanked all  over the place by passerby 2 ton trucks and whatnot..."
"...so you were just running all over the poor guy..."
"Yeah...and the next thing I know, I have this GIGANTIC squirmish paint blob on my face. In fact, everyone does. Paul Newman had somehow cursed us all with this magnificent whatnot."
She licked her lips thoughtfully. "So what colour do you think it was?"
"What colour WHAT was?"
"The paint blob, of course."

Uhm, orangey-yellow?

"So <time> left the <theatre?> for a traceable adventure,
only to find itself within another god's hands. <seclusion> <idolization>"

(And I kept thinking to myself--what is it with all those clothed quotes?)

Swimming in a light blue, the light-light-light-lightness of all.