Thursday, December 30, 2010


Dear walter,

it's so easy in the future thinking about the past

watch what you say I am a doctor! a lawyer an indian chief!
I am a lonely lowly low brow lap lugging piece of meat
here is my skin here is my liver don't make me quiver
come hither you can be free
forget about the hum drum being part of the aculium of scum
that we wash from our boots

I could have been a lonely lowly low brow lap lugging
assistant's assistant just doing my job
just making my way
in a sea of black carcass tapestry
without a clue to impending catastrophe
but that's the way of the present
it's so easy in the future thinking about the past

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Friday, December 10, 2010


On north american tv you will witness people being mutilated, blown up, torn apart but the showing of domestic animals getting similar treatment will not be tolerated. On the commune human mutilation of any sort will not be tolerated either.

On the commune we all work together for the farm, the enterprise, for the sustainability of free spirit. There will be feasts and famine, binge drinking by the gallon, fornication, intoxication and indoctrination. I am your high priestess and I can save you. Please take a number and have a seat. A sister or brother will be with you shortly.

Please note: smoking and spitting on west side only

Thursday, December 2, 2010

it so happens

It was meant to be, right I mean, everything happens for a reason, we choose our parents and our reality, the ball of cotton gets knocked off the table by kittykat and unwinds and unwinds and unwinds the long story of all of us, each individual, stories up our arms, symbolic reference to everything and everywhere, if god meant baby to die, baby dies, who's to doubt or deny, our footprints were made long before we learnt how to walk, all walks having been walked, all thoughts having been thought, this age is of xerox, repetition, reproduction, yes, there is originality as each person has their particular psychological take on baking a cake, dressing a bird, writing a book, tattooing a leg.

There is a strong cyclic force and it goes round and round and round and we may be seduced into thinking that it's a sphere but I tell you sister and brother, this ain't no circle but a beautiful arduous spiral where we go round and round and round always with a little edge, always a little different, always similar enough to recognize ourselves, our movement, the pattern. And jesus we may moan when we eclipse on the the dissolute that we are back here again, again, again damn it, didn't we learn anything, but I swear by the teeth in my mouth that it ain't the same it is a transliterated shift, it's a subtle trans-migration of the body and the mind.

So it is like this that I find myself in a foreign land, learning the trade of the needle.