from part 4 of: Return to the Island of Used Miss Americas
The fire raged for days before anyone noticed. Body by body house by house the entire town burned to ash. When old man Hutchins was burnt he left behind a map for his children to use. “There is nothing better in this world than a lucky map,” his ghost kept saying, until it too was consumed.
Finally the townspeople gathered together and raised the ghost of Napoleon Bonaparte to wage war on the fire. The poor were the first to go; their bodies stacked like sandbags to hold back the flames. Soon the townspeople became very tired of this and threw Napoleon into the fire.
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I ask the cat. “Whatever I can get”, he says.
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only a fragment remains…something about rock pools? I need another appendage in which I can store the various things that I will soon forget. Something in a fine Italian leather, or maybe pleather that I can keep far enough out of view so that no one will notice. How did I get here? I want to come upon a body frozen in ice, yet I want it to be like it is in the movies. The best of both worlds (someone leaves the room to crunch some numbers…they will not return for a hundred years or so, it just isn’t working out)…
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I got a guest spot here so feel free to check it out, or feel free not to, it is no skin off my tiger. But you should at least check out Joe Brainard’s Pyjamas. Thanks To WB Keckler for the invite. (also ya’ll should really think about taking a shower…peeeyouuu, i can smell you from here). Æ
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I’ve begun the radical colonization of my left foot. The right goes to the highest bidder. Afterwards I shall float from one object lesson to another way to skein a cat. Surely, applied with care this is the best method for undoing the sun, which has always been fickle. Somehow you remain unconvinced, if somehow your objects are overblown, your entails undone, then think nothing of it. I for one am not one to judge a dog and pony show. I’ve more important things to undo, like this or not I’ve begun to suspect the rain which falls mainly on the plane. The cat wants back in. You should get up and let him back in.
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Thanks to Stephen for the heads up on one of my favorite (and therefore one of yours) Journals return to the tube-o-sphere: the Corpse is back. Here is a sample:
| New Orleans: The Art of the Corpse |
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| by Andrei Codrescu |
| When New Orleanians returned to their homes after the Storm they were struck by a smell that has no equivalent in recent American history: a stupefying blend of decaying animal flesh as layered as the city’s history. The sweet rankness of animal and human death floated around the city like it might have in the aftermath of a Yellow Fever epidemic of the 18th century, but added to it was the putrid efflorescence of 20th century grocery store meat blossoming inside thousands of refrigerators. For a week or so after the Storm, when the city wallowed in its filth and misery without help from the United States of America, which they had mistakenly believed they were part of, people helped each other drag the taped-up fridges unto the street. Rows and rows of white metal boxes cradling inside generations of maggots began to fill the narrow streets of America’s oldest city. Waves of putrefaction rolled over the streets. New Orleans sank into the funk like a corpse into the embrace of the earth….Continued |
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The problem of the sentence that unmakes itself is that where does this get you? (not you, asshole, me). This always is how goes it in my head then out the other head. Too many heads in this town. Who cares? Jesus cares. He drives a Cadillac up and down my street looking for orphans, or those that appear to be orphans. Just stop a minute and listen. that’s all he says. Poor bastard. Look, either way it’s not going to work. One of these bastards is gonna get you (by you I mean you, asshole). Think not of what you do, but do what you do: carry a big sentence, wear that sentence where you think best. Always come back later on, when we are not so busy. Don’t you see all these people waiting in line? of course you don’t. Now go ahead and translate this sentence:
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For the purposes of clarity the Indians will be skins, and the Cowboys will be shirts. There will be a 15 minute intermission after the third scalping. Both sides are encouraged to shoot to kill, as no one likes a pussy. Also, all the ammunition has been replaced with cornflakes, if you can kill a man with a cornflake, he deserves to die. There will be no chanting or singing, as this makes the Cowboys uncomfortable and, as they are required to be superstitious, this instills an unease in them that could be construed as an advantage for the Indians. The contest will take place in an arena that is still under construction, but when finished will be able to hold the sum total of our stupidity. There will be no dome, as domes are too metaphoric. When the fat lady begins to sing take your places. Go.
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