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.

Just wanted to hold that hand, but someone let go of my body first
I launched into midair, flung out, ----thomp!
An orbit racing the world, colourful tails of stripes and glitter.

What do these tales tell me
On this quiet altitude?

Wanted so badly to join in the fantabulous GAY PARADE that was set to be held in the middle of springtime---
then I woke up and realised that it was only a dream.

There was rain, sudden amounts of it arriving to our windowpanes like a storm of BirthdayPresents;
nobody had yet quite touched the food banquet provided.
The teacher had squirreled around the school for boxes of frozen paninis, french fries, cannolis, and some soup--I offered some to one of my friends, not taking any myself.

A boy I've known for a long time kept helping himself to my mother's homemade veggie stew.
He somehow missed the carrots, all lying in a heap of liquid in the camel-coloured bowl.

The windows turned pitch black, then silver--then a blaze of red, green, and blue. Like when the telly goes a bit berserk. There was, in fact, so much rain that nothing could possibly be seen from these windows. I was the sole witness of this momentary phenomenon, taking place just seconds before the windows begun to crack.
The glass was giving in.

"C'mon," I hollered, "Gather round here so we won't get hurt......!" I paused, reflecting upon how awfully heroic I was acting up. I shrugged; the broken bits of glass stuck in my fingers from last week's wine glass had no doubt boosted me into this level of sheer naivety. "Better hurry or the glass will----"
BREAK

She had her head held up high, simply in awe.
Wondering if I would ever answer..

The scene was an open reception, an all-you-can-eat gathering of somewhat peculiar dishes; clumsy, colourful terrines made from Mangos/Asparagus/MoldyPeaches/SageSausages/PickedSardines/PinkBitsOfGinger/YellowPaprikas/ShreddedPumpkin...., and green salsa soup and vegetable rice croquettes and helpful condiments layed out, like an entire kitchen turned upside down--hinting the flavours of a certain purplish-bubbly pot au feu. It looked like it had lumps of coal in them: YUMMY
A frivolous, flamboyant feast it was.

I took back what looked like an unknown vegetable wrapped steadfast in EggishRicePaper(so....is it an egg? Or rice paper?--the uncharted mysteries of food, oh.., so many..). Curiously, I hadn't intended to bring that with me. I had no intentions of consuming it whatsoever--and yet, it lay flat stuck on my plate like a stubborn snailish-sponge, unnverving in every available sense.
How provocative a dish could be!

I got on my bus("my" bus..a bus I've never ridden, never seen; but somehow, knew. Just as one could easily imagine, how delightfully squirmish MashedBananas would feel like between their toes--make that Cold February Morning Just Got Out Of Bed toes!--- and yet, have likely not to ever been in such a state.)..and actually, my bus had left off, zooming past with my dish of EggishRicePaper wobbling on one of its many anonymous seats, just as I had left for the restroom.
How violent a bus could leave!

I fixed my heart and snapped into the restroom, only to find myself half-naked as I came out. My working hours at the bistro have printed this illusion no doubt, as just last night, I was fixing my apron to hide my jeans..and I quickly back-hugged a favourite friend;

"I've lost my undies!" although I still had my underwear on.
"You have your undies on," she snapped, "Look here. See?"
:) She is one of my favourite friends, you see..

I told her about the latest rave of MysteryNovels: she smiled excitedly, promising me she'd read it first chance she got.

"She was beautiful," he implied, "BeautifulVibrantBeauuutiful."
Then he paused, for a few collective moments. "His daughter--Chrissy--she was another beauty. The clashingly beautiful type, you can never seem to get away from."

*      *      *      * 

Each individual was immersed in their own, seperate, capricious, highly-careless thoughts.

The bird was swimming in a murkish pool of FATIGUE,
and somehow I was inclined to save her, for the sake of....myself.
Or else the bird would die, that was for sure.

Her legs waded wanefully with every move I made, setting her lower body in the cupped water and gently trickling it. Eyes shut, she made several attempts to raise her beak.
As if she wanted to tell the world a whole new DESIRE.

However, I soon realise that she wanted nothing more but a few farewells. Rested in peace, she waned.

Ophelia.

There was an attractive Underground-Party taking place, and I was supposedly invited--or, had been anticipated, so to speak.

"It's been so long, so very long!...Ah, how are you these days anyway?" they say.
"Yes," I stutter. "Yes, well quite....quite well, quite well indeed. And you?"

There were no such perceptions as limits around here.
As always!

*     *     *     *
My brother was curled up like a nuzzly cat-a-tat in the platinum safe. He wore fluffly whitish pajamas, that no doubt belonged to somebody else.

"Why," I said, "Why the miserable face?"
"Because you FOUND me!" he suggestfully exclaimed.  :)

*     *     *     *

And someone (godknowswho) had a few tricks up their sleeves.....

She embodied GRACE with such strength, subtle words escape me....

Her website was http://www.woman.lx.jp/
or something like that.

They were brought into the hospital beds together, now lying side by side. Looked fine, talked fine---just didn't seem fine. I was their long-time friend, advisor, personal doctor; they'd called me up after being waken conscious.

"So, what brings you two here?" I asked, flipping my pen out from my whitish jacket and scribbling down something confusing.
The newly weds watched my hand's movements anxiously, as if my hand were to suddenly snap and strike at them like an angry lion. "We're in troublesome times," the man finally spoke.
"....Yes, I see that," I continued to scribble, "so you two had an accident..."
"An ACCIDENT." declared the young woman.
I looked up at her. Her hair was successfully neat, and messy. "Yes, an accident. I thought I said so."
"......It was an accident....," she murmered. The voice was grave and stone-hard, like a windswept tombstone. "An accident...." My right brow began to slowly arch.
The man faced her. "Now stop!" he hissed, "and don't you start that all over again here....!" His eyes searched her face for the slightest hint of amusement, understanding, tenderness---yet, he failed to detect a single one.
I looked at each of the two, and then the both of them as a set. "Am I being left out on something?"
"She just had a miscarriage," the man spat out. "Another one. We saw Wu you know, two times...... and that bastard let this happen twice." The woman suddenly straightened up, her face further forlorn but strongly determined; as if the momentum of this reality had ignited her into action. "Yes," she said, "Doctor Wu. It was Wu, Wu all along."
Now both my brows were equally and highly arched. "But couldn't you have called me, being around here so often then?---And Wu, oh Wu....."  I couldn't continue.

A bath, it was, that I'd promised to give him in "about 10 minutes---wait for me, won't you? I promise I'll be there so fast, you wouldn't even realise that I was gone anyway."

But I never found the time to do it.
When I'd returned, about 40 minutes later, he was waiting for me in the doorway, throwing a party of a tantrum.
I named him: Little Hurricane.

The plains had gradually transformed into meadows, then forests....
The bird flown into the khaki-green, leaving only a trail of something behind.

"Oi, where is she?" shouted someone, "I can't see anything round here, you know.."
"We'll find her," I replied. (Then, quietly, "...eventually.")
"She keeps on flyin' and flyin' and flyin' and"
"FLYIN'," my mentor snapped. "Because, she's, a BIRD."

I found her perched between some cozy, gorgeous branches. Gorgeous, with intimate lonelieness...  "She's there."
A pile of stranded chairs were waiting for me, all huddled in someone's backyard. A handsome Victorian blue struck the air vividly. I turned, facing a terribly spacious wall of bluest yonder. Someone yelped in delight---or was that me?

The bird flew away, it seemed. Somehow we never got hold of her, though I was quite sure we would. She was mum's favourite; I began practising breaking the news to her.

*       *       *       *

She used to be my maths teacher. Today we were talking about some stacks of freshly prepared sandwiches. The whole class was horribly immersed in this minute topic, grinding their minds for further suggestions. The girl in subject....the verdict....was hungry as a howling lion, and kept swishing her outrageous ponytail as someone spoke, like an animal wagging its tail.

"This one has organically-bred chicken and fresh fruit tomatoes," a student exclaimed. (swish, goes the ponytail!)
"...How wondrous! But just to say, the bread looks foggy."
"Though, my dear, the chicken is exciting," a girl beamed. (swish) "I would once again like to point out its virtues---bred, raised only on pomegranate seeds and mushroom powder. How enchanting is that?"
"But I don't even LIKE chicken," the ponytail swished. "I just..want.. some LETTUCE...."
"Lettuce? Did someone say...lettuce?" spoke a young fellow. On second thought, spoke my geography teacher. "This one has roquefort and lettuce, and nothing else. De-licious."
SWISH. "Ouu...but such a robust combination, no? Roquefort and bread?"

My maths teacher clicked and clacked her toes and came our way. We turned round, looking into her glowing face. "Oh," she said, "I think I found something quite fine..."
She pulled out the chicken sandwich, roquefort-and-lettuce sandwich, and various others that were already discussed, and there emerged two pieces of rye bread.
"Wow, (swish), MUKS!" she smiled.

First I thought the night was young. It turned out, it wasn`t....


*        *        *       *

Roaming about the streets, the car was smashed into smithereens. It was just a dream---or so I carelessly reckoned. It might have been real; it might have not. Anyway, he took me by the arms and dragged me down the staircase to straighten this whole ordeal out.

"How were you driving, honestly, to acheive such masterful catastrophe?" he said.
"I LIKE that...," I mumbled. "I do like that theme. Masterful Catastrophe, Masterful Colourful Car Crash Disasters....oh, no, I do not. I just like those suggestive notions, not the contents itself. Surely you...?"
He waved his hand back and forth (absolutely resenting me). "Yeah Yeah Yeah."
I smiled like a tiny fox. Like a glittering little twinkle in this crystal-lonely-universal-ambivalence....
"What's THAT?" he exclaimed, standing up and knocking his brandy glass all over the table. "MUKS." he sighed.

*       *       *       *

A research paper was due the moment we'd all wake up. In a sea of four flattened out matresses; a young man, a monk, a lady, and I---sleeping side by side.
Should an earthquake mess this paper up, "We'll have to evacuate." someone started.
"W-wh-where?" a panicky stutter.
"Nowhere. Great grievances!" a cranky monk fired. "Just rest, my dears, and you shall see...." His arms fluctuated as if he were about to meditate. We all scrambled for our beds. PLOMP! as our backs hit the sheets.

"Shall we?" I said. Our eyes meddled, our minds fiddled with high-low-high fidelity....

I jolted upwards as someone was crawling around my stomach. My dear young man! He must've been sailing the high-low-high, between the ferocious waves, beneath the clawing rocks, besides the lonely sea. Squirming for his life, he managed to escape my whimsical attemps to catch him,

"and eat him?" the lady suggested. Then came a gallery of heartful laughter (ohoho phewy HEHEHE reakakakaka tretetrete Tiiiiish HuHuHuHu!), subsided by a glimpse of the sunlight-shatter...

*      *      *      * 

Then there was bliss. Careful touching light, glowing, heartful voices.
--Good Morning.