Thursday, January 31, 2013

 

Women Dialog Roles
 

-So in the old old model, the men hunt and the women
hang back to tend the campfires and the running brats?

-Correct. And then the triumphant return with the
bloody pigs! 

-And we enthuse over the tribal cheer. A great moment!

-There follows the ritual butchering.

-Anything involving the gods we’re naturally held
out from. 

-Also correct. But everyone sees the rightness of this.

-Fast forward to the Twenty First Century. Our Golden Age just barely started.

-Both parties out hunting.

-The Great Overgod of Commerce demanding it thus.

-The homefires cold, the children gorged with sex
and video games.

-Well, we nonetheless lead in one important category.

-Which is? (And I hope that verb excoriates with
its sarcasm.)

-Exhaustion.

-Amen amen I say to you that if only two women see
the light, and then two more, and then...!

-As I said: Exhaustion!

 

 

 

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Wednesday, January 30, 2013

 

The Night of the Culmination of Intense Desires
 

arrives, going immediately south.
The room still graced with rowdy
residue and beercans. The new one,  

in the furthest wing, says Fifties Chic, its
bedspead figured with scenes of the Korean  

Conflict. “You can’t make this stuff up,” she pro-
nounces, his cue to fetch snacks from the machines.
Not being robbed, returns with copious amounts. 

They munch and gulp as a family argues adjacent,
the children C over C. Something they’re cooking
stinks, and combining with swamp aroma, sets 

the air conditioner to coughing dirt.
He pulls the plug. They watch Noir TV,
Private Eye and Skirt 

wisecracking through hollow mayhem. In
the morning (Leaving out the best part? Oh?)
shower head emits fog, depositing a gummy film. 

Both cars refuse to start. Until computers so
run through scenarios of mechanical awfulness
before lurching to fitful existence!  

Enroute, the lovers hoping
an intermediate universe 
swallows them.

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Tuesday, January 29, 2013

 

Children and Horses 

Shaw and his buds
allowed for sexuality

within bounds: “As long
as they don’t frighten
the children and horses.”

Today with queer shame
wearing away, decent folks

can still sniff other bent comport-
ments in order to take to task,
or envy, or both at once.

At any rate, always be keen on any
licentious missteps of another.

The angels can miscue during
pocket pool, and thus may ask.

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Monday, January 28, 2013

 

Museum
 

-It’s twenty years there for Carol. 

-Hip hip etcetera! 

-When she started she typed the little cards for
the displays. 

-I remember that flying e from the old Underwood. 

-You remember nothing! Have you ever been in there? 

-Some fundraiser thing for Public TV. Weak champagne
and mini Ritz Crackers dressed up with tiny red and green bits of crap. So-oh colorful! Nearly peed in ecstasy. 

-Next time they’ll have Meatball Hoagies. 

-Yeah! Accompanying FOOTBALL AND ANTHROPOLOGY, or some such shit.

-Couldn’t make it lowbrow enough for you.

-I’d like them to try. Along with your little icy friend.

-You’ve got her wrong—and just about everything else. She’s no frozen spinster as you imply. Has a full sexual life, believe you me!

-Then the next display should definitely feature
our hot Carol. Bank of monitors showing her cunt.

-What do I see in you? A primitive!

-That’s what you see. Or rather, feel.

-If I thought, like it’s all sex, I’d commit suicide.

-It’s not. Don’t I bring you pretty flowers?

-Yeah! To get what you want.

-Isn’t that one museum circular? We could go there
and keep going round and round.

-My mother will hardly speak to me because of you.

-Power of prayer.

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Sunday, January 27, 2013

 

Team
 

Jerry cringes at the lunchroom banner.  

WELCOME TO THE TEAM!
 

It had been put up after a famous football coach

had given a severely motivational speech.
 

From what he can tell as the newest hire, each

“team” member has an individual agenda.
 

In his cubicle less than an an hour when

the first warning insinuates: to the effect of

bewaring Laurel-Ann.
 

Strongly desires to “end the crap against women

around here!”
 

“Yeah, in the next hour and a half,” adds the wag
 
he borrows Coffee-mate creamer from.

 

In the following days, other warnings issue. So and so
 
seems______but he or she is ACTUALY_____!

 

Nonetheless, the work goes pretty well. Mostly

because it consists of solo projects, with no team

members chiming in.
 

His first collective effort gives him a  political jolt.

After, he’s told to choose either of two factions.
 

But begs off as being too new to decide.
 

As a result, both shun him when possible.
 

He buys a small Coffee-mate for his initial
 
benefactor. Though told it isn’t really necessary,
 
he knows, with certainty, it is.
 

An article on the Business Week site informs him he
 
best seek a mentor.
 

But right now trusts no one.
 

In this queasy timeframe, rumors of a circulating

ax emerge. A disembodied one with nobody at

the handle end.
 

The veterans opine the new hires should be cut.
 

This shiny group all for the lopping of dead wood.
 

Though evidence not strong enough yet, Jerry's instincts

lead him to phone a headhunter.

 

Asked to summarize why he wishes to leave,

does so without sounding like a lunatic.
 

“Stay where you are. Everything on my desk lousier!”’

 

 

Saturday, January 26, 2013

 

When TV Interviewed 

the older artist,
he brought age

spots, mushed nose, pig
ears, & fanning hairs fey  

director backlit.
Too late for him

who pushed fairest
beauty in flaming

prime? (How even men
started by haughty
candids then!)

Dashed  as painter
through a slashing
world! & why not  

reprise these now?
Get real.

 

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Friday, January 25, 2013

 
The Quiet Room
 

-No real reason to use this Quiet Room.
All other conference venues booked.
Do you recall your previous…? 

-Only the words “We could go to prison!”
 
-It was panic mode.

-I had visions of being raped by a vicious stud!

-Overblown. They seek fresher meat. At  any rate,
two wonderful groups have blocked incarceration.

-Senate and House! I’m amazed at the paltry amounts
they’re bought for.

-Shh! Even in the Quiet Room we avoid strong verbs.
Rather say patriotic contributions of Banking.
Besides, these but symbols in a novel. 

-And the novel itself? 

-One!      Thumping!      Book!

 

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Thursday, January 24, 2013

 




Divinity
 

In a grove hidden from traffic, Jicky declared himself
a god. 

But only to Bell-Boy. who was eating from a can
of Chef Boyardee Beefaroni with a  wooden
mixing spoon. 

“THIS is my god!” He held up the can and waved the spoon, from which bits of macaroni flew. 

Jicky smiled, Beefaroni being his sacred symbol. 

The next day, a cop and social worker collared Bell-Boy
who stayed back to read a comic book as Jicky explored dumpsters. 

He was taken to the new shelter where the mayor
pointed out his bed on TV and presented a box of Powerbars.  

Jicky didn’t have to see it, for he sensed it on his
inner receiver. Then he performed what he thought
he’d never: blessing the mayor and city.

 He’d go later in back of Starbucks. Cyber–Colley
would put it online.

 





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Wednesday, January 23, 2013

 
Dialog…somewhat
 
 
-The Vaginal-Probe, Fuck-Leroy-and-José
Party keeps a-wonderin’ how it lost.
 
-Oh yeah? Well I’m one of ‘em. You see
that hill out there?
 
-Could hardly miss.
 
-Well when waves of Josés and Leroys
start comin’ down it…!
 
-Waves of Josés has a ring.
 
-They’ll hear something like.
 
-Wave of women proceeding too?
 
-Probably. Some ones resembling ‘em anyways.
Biologically.
 
-Wow! That last word! Six syllables!
 
-Keep underrating us!
 
-That wouldn’t be possible. Uh, will I…
taste lead too?
 
-If you’re in the last wave. Liberals, Democrats,
Communists, Socialists.
 
-You left out professors.
 
-Same thing. And hey, for the spicks and blacks,
AK47’ll do just fine. For you and fellow pansies:
rocket launcher!
 
-Ouchie! But un-itch your finger. I won’t climb the ramparts to augment, or advance with, any of my types. Too soft-headed. They keep losing their keys, and the war won’t wait for hysterical searches!
 
-Stay on the sidelines then!
 
-I’m seeing wonders from here!
 
 
 










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Tuesday, January 22, 2013

 
  
Alien Report
 
A possible index for understanding the one type
is their love of mock wars carried out on large
fields in front of thousands like them.
These spectators often brawl afterwards.
 
The other type I call Shelf Persons. They go about
projecting from the upper third.
 
There can be no index explaining them, the
literature--such as it is--replete with examples
decrying any possibility of this whatsoever.
 

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Monday, January 21, 2013

 
In Baltimore
 
Blinky had a condition that, when he became tense,
hair would grow audibly. Sometimes it came up from
his chest and tickled under the chin.
 
At first, he didn’t know if meeting Jennie-Lil was a
good thing, but they were making a go of it.
 
Hers popped out on the back of her hands.
After, following the arms. With surgical gloves,
no one would notice till it got there.
 
Today she’ll come for the last quarter of the
Ravens game from her shift at St Agnes.
 
He’ll cut the sound, then, for both to listen.


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Sunday, January 20, 2013

 

The Shortest Story Beginning a Long One
 

-Sex in a small car. It‘s almost fun. 

-Now what?

-That’s always the question, isn’t it?

-I’m hearing you’ve got to do better.

-Well, nicer milieu next…

-You know what I mean!

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Saturday, January 19, 2013

 

“The Death of Aristotle
 

went down hard in my house. Dad’d like to bring him
back for some new quotes. Mom’s all Shoppy-hower
or Shitty-flower or some such. 

Yeah, brought up by intellectuals. Not the same as
wolves, but the results can be as wild. 

I’m on curfew now. Freedom granted again shortly.
Then I’ll test the two fools anew. 

I’m looking for a fellow with a five-word vocabulary
who drags his knuckles on the ground. They want
a bright one, of course, so they can talk their crap. 

Liberals? Now what do you think? Conservative Intellectual
is an oxymoron, no matter what the hate radio of this
dumbed-downed region tries to convince you.  

And it’s Schopenhauer. I was just teasing. They’ve taught me
a lot though they’re idiots.”

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Friday, January 18, 2013

 

Go Figure 

-“The Optical Plan is safe! Don’t worry for now.” 

-Then he trundled away his shopping cart, full
of filth and oddments? Down the twisted byways
of Anytown, USA! 
 
-Something like that. I’m puzzling over what he meant.

-Negotiated under homeless contract? Now don’t give
me that look! At any rate, shouldn’t be hard for you
to fathom. On the same wavelength. Deep Structure! 

-Hey, what’s the difference between him and
the Old Testament Prophets dishing up their
threatening shit? 

-Or the Ides of March dude? 

-What’s an Ide anyhow? 

-Don’t know. Didn’t read the footnotes back then. 

-And that’s all you read now. 

-Answer in there somewhere. How life has passed us by.

-In there or The Optical Plan.

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Thursday, January 17, 2013

 
True Believer 

Frothed at the mouth
to broil President.
 
Failed, but how dried
excrescence there re-

moistened! As if
by blood of tyrants.

 

 

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Wednesday, January 16, 2013

 

Grandma in Transition 
 

CONGRESSMAN
Gotta throw Grandma under the bus all at once!
Can’t be gradual, or you’ll have Democrats and other
Goody-Two-Shoes pulling her back by the legs while
you’re trying to fling her good! 

LOBBYIST
Some image! 

CONGRESSMAN
Was fuckin English Major! 

LOBBYIST
Your speeches often quoted. 

CONGRESSMAN
Yeah, but for the wrong reasons. Media needs Simon Legree!

 LOBBYIST
Not familiar with that gentleman. 

CONGRESSMAN
No matter. You’re a product of dumbed-down education.
 
LOBBYIST
Smart enough to know this scotch is smoky silk!

CONGRESSMAN
Son, only Congressmen and billionaires can afford
this scotch. 

LOBBYIST
Have a hunch it’ll prove expensive to me.

 CONGRESSMAN
First sensible thing you said.

 

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