Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Sheika al Mayassa declined to be interviewed for this article.




I am out on a long walk with my dog. Please don't call. I won't pick up.




The "Bone of Contention" my dear Watson,
is a wrathful bone indeed, and one shrouded in holy Tulsi, toolsies, etc..


I tried to make it work, but found it was always about 
splitting hares. Too much bull.
Ortolan! Ortolan!
They rise in pitched valleys!
HYEEE! HYEEE!


Once again in our well-formed wordlessnesses, we still ourselves with the action of beloved repose.
In that distancing we overcome all, and go beneath, and thus, through,
and a royal pouch has led us.
galactose. infuse.


PAOLO FELIX RAQUEL JEAN
(i descend alongside the opossum trance)
(i descened alonegnithstrideance)

PACK YOUR ERMINES FATHER!
this hat is the one!
this hat will overcome!
BREAK ON THROUGH! YEAH!


it's not that everything disturbing is erotic, or everything erotic disturbed, but ssssynaesthesia has darker cousins with no names, and they haunt the grey wood all the same, in their long pink eyebrow beards and livery spots..
All theatre is ghoulish.


Death is just another software glitch awaiting its patch.
Or is God a terrible hateful monster who built you to die?
Built you to suffer the hell fire of mortality
and disease?


Agency is funny like that.
The Agency is funny like that.
Something funny really is going on.
Plasticity is just one of the many prolegomena
of Chemistry.


It is my solemn duty to displace their yellowed framing, and I wander about
pushing the sick singing square before me as I meander this hell of articulated formal complaints.
I, the butcher of journalism, am the sorry story gone unreported.
Retort.


Lord Graystroke.


California Dungeon Dwellers.


I traded a mahogany box filled with hand carved kufic lines of ivory for the rare bird they called Shakka. I fed it with the milk and blood of my loins, but my woman killed it with a rock.
She is a rare blue animal woman. I traded a gigantic whale bone flute for her..
But I do so miss the singing, like a gnarl of canaries pretending mutiny to melody.
She thinks only of food, and never music.