Reduced January half off damage sale…
Does the Universe have a Sense of Humor?
Could we be all just a race of afflicted inbred half breed of alien offspring bastards
Abandoned by celestial beings with poor impulse control and even worse parenting skills ?
I always get confused here with the breakdown of gender roles.
Was it the males that were the evil devils while the females angelic life producers
Or was it the other way around.
Nobody calls it the old switcheroo and more.
Somehow that lost art of Lamp Chop preparation figures in here somewhere
But I’m confused about that as well…
But I suspect that recipe relates to the rather limited menu
Of our collective short brutal existence that reality is
Strictly au jus.
Or was that Judas a la cart……value priced at 30 pieces of Silver
(that about 25 bucks in today’s exchange rate)
But I do know a few things about life here on earth….for instance:
Bats always turn left when exiting a cave
Iguanas can and do commit suicide.
85 % of all life on this planet is plankton
While the snails reproductive organ is located in its head.
And if you want a toupee for your dog ?
You have to go to Tokyo and you’ll have to call for prices..
Latest quote is 1,999.79 Yen.
Meanwhile back in the states
History records that briefly during the American Revolution
There was a 3 dollar bill with the motto
Exitus in Dubio
Which translated means…
The outcome is in doubt.
Lost/Found Fragments from 2012
And there he goes-
And there goes
Driving off into a shaft of sunset…
The wrong way.
In Your Shallow End of the Pool
In ways perhaps
She will never fathom
That your love was
Just deep enough
For her to swim
Away from you in.
He thought he was
12 angry men in one guy.
But Problem was ?
none of them
Just Ask The Romance Accident Reconstruction Team
Our best advice to you in this instance
Is when you manage to drive away that one person
You once regarded as the love of your life ?
Make it look like an accident.
Preferably their fault.
How should you pitch in your Dreams ?
Everyone should be considered Game 7
And throwing a shut out
Will never show up in
Anybodies box score.
I have followed that Bitch without a niche
All around mid-town for years now
You see her and I just
Hit it off from the very first
Without a snag or a hitch.
You see as it turned out
We both are infected with
The very same burning irritation
at this fingernail-less world
that couldn’t be bothered to reach or itch.
And neither one of us had any desire to scratch
Or be scratched….by fools and then dumped
in their shallow sorry ass ditch.
The Dybbuk Dreams
(live audio link)
when all promise and disaster were as unopened mail
that the past had a walk in his sleep.
The Dybbuk’s hands opened old draws
shuffled through forgotten pages
Pausing to repeat a line of a letter
here and there.
Ashes were stirred and long dormant old flames set free
to flicker. Then the night faces could dance once more.
Night faces coming back to visit shining
eyes to glow back into.
Another year rolling itself out like an immense black wing .
Your sleeping form swept along in this night flight,
those waking hours, now the specter, this was the soul
strolling hand in hand with the eternal freedom of
She walked once more upon the mores, in a chilly thick fog.
Here where she had always known that he waited for her
In between anger and consequences,
in this dream scape of quicksand recall where mushroomed
marsh islands of what might have been.
They both returned to this shadow realm of still photographs
hung and propped in the endless stark arms of winter.
Here where the past stood naked and true.
Both came with small hands grasping deep into the heart’s
pocket. Each visited at different points
along the dream curve, with separate dependencies and
versions of the same story.
They left messages here for each other.
The last word over and over. The promises of reconciliation
and forgiveness. The sensation they shared of never being
able to meet face to face again, outside of this place
of half light sand deep grey pools. Always to return to
the same beaten path, in the corner of the dream.
This place where the images of each other’s faces
in those frozen photos snared arrested looks
and eyes of love and delight that once were shared.
They both returned to this place, every so often
to get a face full and
look down at the others footprints
left in the path
from the night before.
-Another Rubber Eden 1/95
List of the End of January
(live audio link)
Snow coal cone lump ashtray pustule
shrinking in the corner of the parking lot.
Sound of clogged carburetor gagging on itself.
(Great…now you’ve flooded it)
Lost key trunk eye-hole with yellow handle
long nick Phillip screwdriver protruding.
(Nope that didn’t work either…keep swearing)
False dawn slapping wind banging away
slamming cheap tin bed frame freight train
ready to orgasm and derail.
Centipede shadow crawling measuring spoons
scurrying across the dingy white moon soaked linoleum floor
looking like a pool of quicksand.
Brown plastic garbage can rolling down the block
yawning in the gutter.
Air raid siren blast exploding
in a razor blade cable running through your ears
jerking your head off the sound sleep pillow.
(This was only a test)
Child’s dream speak night talk back lit in
orange dragon space heater steel teeth
hissing at the bars on the crib.
(Some childhood memories are best forgotten.)
Fresh crème of the New Year
curdling in the calendar’s carton.
Whose face is that on the side?
Another Rubber Eden 1/89
Leave a Reply