"Ode to Early Detection"

  remembering games
  and daisy chains of loss


What rogue hopeful finagles the garbled anthem
in something like a telegraphic accent?

Why stupid makes us google: the broth is spoilt,
the toast is burnt, or passed off to a pygmy

free thrower. Where treason fails to prosper
there's always waterboarding, Beethoven's Ninth.

Such fisticuffs, such festivals of sulfur;
and we are here as on a darkling Shit-Happen,

impatient for the catchphrase and the formula.
I watch you closely. Exactions nil oblige.

So hopefuls on a swayed rope bridge vie bishop-
of-opposite-color quips, as iron poverty

descends on all. Call me a sourpuss.


Airless is the room of No one-Will-Ever-Read-This; & how prodigious the pretence of breathing there! --Yet it must be done.


Roach whisperer.


"We are given our place in time as we are given our eyes: weak, strong, clever, squinting, the thing is not ours to choose. Well, this has been a squinting, walleyed time to be born in. Fortunately, when most eyes see distortion as a matter of course, nothing bizarre is thought out of the way, and only a clear vision is abnormal." --Julian


I Am a Strange Loop.


Hawkwind in the White Tent...


Rasputin: the Opera. (via Cursor)