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Showing posts from January, 2016

Basement Party (In The Future with Ursus Majora)

The searing of  Klunkistan  in the near prairie hell of it  Open wide the door of this lately opened wreathe Intransigent hopeless old man Let you labor beneath the lung of my breath for this to breathe I know you have my knock knock girl She's gorgeous pretentious and barely but almost brief,  Foxtod in the Mire Pool The bottle's dry now. It's house night but the basement switched to funk about an hour ago so the couch is empty. Smoking here in my jetpak is nice but its hardly innocent. Kurtis wants to move forward but I don't know... Instead I'm making time with this lost bear, Bear. His breath is awful and the rest smells like clover and warmed over shit. Still I run a finger around Bear's lazy ear and watch it twitch. I think to myself, green and red now that's International Common right. Now there's a ball team I can get behind. Bear roars at the waiter. Sorry, says the server. Then Bear unexpectedly bellows again and I surprise pee a little

This Husk of a Mule (a brief logic for work)

hommage aux benevoles We the turlip, Vixed a spritely mass to some Call us son and pass,  attributed to Ham The pen will stab and pinch but the camera will bind our awareness while the tools of architecture and design spin cunning simulacrum of cultural desire all around us. The befuddlement of such principled design can itself be a strange metric extraction of which is my purpose. Still the ease with which I slip the knot of this magick with the work of my gilded tongue is beguiling. They might say purple but I'm beyond that too. I open the first book that I pull down. It's yellow pages are dry but not coarse. The ink inside of them is bold. The text stands stunningly erect despite how old it must be. I read out a random line, To mutilate the goat of your culture Make us first into brooklyn Then ahHa study our SUGAR walls with must. Can this whole experience be spread any better then that I wonder... I'm standing at the margin of a limitless page of blank waitin

Shirts Among Skins (This Pretend City)

fig.13.03) afterwards, drink don't think, drive, die... June's so late to foreign as is every drop of rain It's damp beneath her summer door and above her middle name  June will follow May where ever she should lead T hey'll stumble through her bridal bits, Blah Blah Blah  - The Bed of Your Rosy Hips Now that April's ray is shining her moon is turning too She's dotting all the eyes with tears of rain and waiting here for June (So Fuck You And You And You)  - Before The Mouth of Chance I take the phone out my hip pocket and you brush crumbs off the table. Putting down our drinks, there's a thud, a smash and then a little tinkle. I sit down while you are tying up your hair. The bobby pin in your teeth is black. It's wet with spit when you smile down at me.  "I don't know, Is there any reason for this..." A pair of tall pants walks around you like its in charge of Brooklyn and half of the haircuts in Queens too.  "I don't thi

Even that Bastard can follow us home now

these are not the windows John will walk home from the Afterfollow at the Dutch. Pree and John still meet but MomJean dies. Helen and John meet like they're doomed. MomJean has a funeral and Betta and Gretta are there. Mantana gets hurt by the viaduct and Claudio is late for his pigege. Monstre Owen will send Claudio to Frango's office afterwards. The outline continues after this for a while. Eventually it becomes more confusing until it trails off in a series of disjointed and random words that end with the letter, be.  This is all there is for now, I tell him. The persistence of our sun heckles the crabby morning as it's crawling out onto the beach. The bones of its day are already damp and they're warming while its truth is only just still tart. By midday it'll yellow and green into a deep purple. Then it'll bloat before it's time for supper. Selmadeen pushes back his small chair. The weight of the table shifts and the pale cups of tea shake like